Hill Country Commuter

The Romantic: 1

2012-01-18T12:23:00.001-06:00

William can't remember the first time he ever rode a bike. As a toddler, his parents had gotten a small bike with training wheels, 12 inch tires, and a fixed gear. According to legend, William's father had taken the training wheels off of the bike when the boy was three-and-a-half years old. The earliest memory on a bike he has is shortly after the training wheel removal:

William grew up in a small country neighborhood incorporating a few houses along a farm-to-market road and a quiet, residential cul-de-sac. The blue bicycle with black tires and white pedals was calling his name. William was not yet allowed to wander the neighborhood alone, and wanted a chaperone to take him on a bike ride, since riding in the yard was no longer enough adventure. Luckily, William's parents lived near family, and everyone was gathered for a summer picnic. He asked his mother, grandmother, grandfather, and aunts to ride with him without success. Eventually, he had found his champion of cycling freedom, a free-spirited uncle. The uncle wandered over to Grandpa's barn to get out an old bike that the patriarch had maintained for just such occasions. William, giddily, ran to pick up his own bicycle and hurriedly put on his shoes. William rarely wore shoes, but had learned that spinning pedals and chains were dangerous for even his impressively callused feet. As the uncle walked the bike over to the gate leading to the street, William took a running start and sprung to the seat of his bike. He was riding before he got to the gate, and had to dismount and walk the bike through. Shortly thereafter they were on the street.

The only street in this neighborhood was the aforementioned cul-de-sac. There were maybe 15 houses lining the sides of the street. Their yards were pretty big, so the street was plenty long for someone William's size. The end was at the bottom of a gentle slope, and William's grandfather's house was at the top, by the farm-to-market road. William Pointed his bike to the bottom of the hill and pedaled very hard. His feet were spinning fast. They were sweating in the shoes. Within a second of crossing the gate, he was barreling down the hill toward the end of the street with his uncle in tow. The wind blew his hair back. Mailboxes along the street's edge blurred. Bugs hit the child's face while he squinted in the wind. The euphoria of speed caused the boy to glow. He could no longer limit himself to a stone-cold grimace of concentration. If he had the spare energy for it, he would scream with joy.

The little blue bike was never intended to ride so fast, or without training wheels, and as such it was not equipped with brakes. With the burst and bust stamina of any three year-old, William lost steam as he got toward the end of the street. Those pedals were spinning on their own now, driven by the tire. Remembering why he put on those shoes, William removed his feet from the pedals and applied the brakes using Flintstone technology. All the momentum he built was finally reined in just before the pavement ran out. His uncle, never more than a few yards away began slowly circling William as the boy fought to catch his breath. This otherwise trivial task was complicated by the giggling that would not subside.

After a few laps, William began to feel like his circling uncle was taunting him. The child envied that an adult's bike could coast. William began riding back up the hill. He would go in bursts of energy. Between efforts, there would be periods where the boy just rode along. William could not stand to cruise, though. Any time he sensed enough energy, he would surge forward. By the time they reached the house atop the hill, the boy had made two rest stops to catch his breath. Each time, the uncle would just calmly circle the panting child. There was a slightly extended break at the top of the hill, where William's uncle asked if he was ready to go back to the yard and play with his siblings and cousins. William replied with a glimmer and a smirk and only said, "Again."

The next day was a Sunday. This meant that William's father was home from work. William had awaken early that day and was watching Hanna-Barbera shows while eating cereal. The living room was a mess. William was difficult for his mother to keep up with sometimes, and this morning was an example. The father slept in a room upstairs. He had come down in his weekend summer clothing consisting of mesh shorts and a T-shirt with a baseball cap. William wore a cap to emulate his father. After some coffee and scrambled eggs, Dad was ready to offer William a bike ride. This was a different kind of bike ride, though. With Dad, William could ride out of the neighborhood, sitting in the seat affixed above the rear wheel of Dad's bike. Upon hearing this, William's mother scrambled to get the sunscreen and proceeded to make the child uncomfortably oily and pasty-looking. Dad gave William his hat and they walked to the garage. Dad strapped the boy into the seat above the rear wheel and began riding out of the driveway. They turned toward the road that leads to the nearby lake. William could only see to the sides, sitting in a seat behind his father. Mailboxes blurred by even faster than when he raced his uncle down the street. The boy squealed with bliss. There he was, consumed with speed and wind. Riding a bike with his father was something William always enjoyed, whether on his own bike or on his dad's. He shouted "Faster!" and Dad acquiesced. The child could feel the giant machine surge with his father's pedal strokes. The seat he sat in swayed left, then right. The acceleration pushed him back into the seat. The wheel beneath him whirred. The freewheel began clicking as Dad reached the crest in a rolling hill. There was another acceleration. This time, riding down hill, the speed cam on smoothly and without drama. The wind in William's ears drowned out the clicking of the freewheel. The child sat still and silent in the seat, awestruck by the sensations bombarding him, watching and smelling the passing scenery.

The road to the lake had rolling hills, pastures, cottages, and a bait shop. William could smell the cattle in the pastures. He would never hate the smell for the rest of his life, since it somehow reminded him of these experiences. Dad took the boy to the water. The lake had its own aromas. At the boat ramp where the fishermen launched the boats, there was a smell of fish carcass. They walked around a little and skipped some stones. They explored the campgrounds along the park road at the lake. At the area full of campgrounds, there was a smell of ash and campfire. They went to the marina and looked at all the boats. At the marina, there was a faint odor of gasoline that was mostly masked by the aroma of the adjoining hamburger stand. One the way home, Dad stopped at the bait shop to talk to the owner, a friend. This place had the worst smell by far, where the owner raised minnows and kept a stock of "stink bait" for the sportsmen to purchase on their way to the lake. Dad bought himself a soda and shared a sip with his son.

With William back in the passenger seat again, Dad resumed riding the bike. They had been out for about an hour, and the trip had turned back in the direction of the house. There was no need to race anymore, and William was pacified by the rhythmic rocking of the bike as his father pedaled. The boy was lulled into a nap for the remainder of the trip home.

The Test

2012-01-11T09:55:00.001-06:00

I am making an assumption that most of the readers of this blog (both of the readers that I know about) are licensed automobile operators. Here is the story of how I got my license:

When I was growing up, my parents had some property in a town that was half-way between rural and suburban. We could get to the nearest city in about 30 minutes, by driving on a road with a high speed limit and no shoulder, traffic, or traffic control devices. Once I was 8 or so, my father had me driving various riding lawn mowers and tractors. By the time I was 13 or 14, he had begun training me to drive his old pickup truck in a field. When I was 15, I was enrolled in the at-home driver's education program, whereby the state of Texas lets my parents be my driving instructors. On my 16th birthday, we went to the DPS for my license. I took a written test, but no performance test to get my license.

I got a driver's license without taking a driving test. At the time, I thought this was great! My parents are good drivers (mostly) and I learned good driving habits (mostly) from them. I figured the system was working well. My mom signed the waiver to omit the performance test, because I had logged a LOT of hours driving with a parent in the car/truck/van with me. A lot of my friends went through the same program as I did, and did not have to take a test to get a license. They said their parents were less strict than mine with the training/practice regime.

I told you this, because in this blog post the author indicates that there is a test for drivers on the highway, but not for cyclists in a tight pack.

When I was seriously getting into road cycling, I was about 21. I had been driving for a while. I was a mountain biker ever since the training wheels cam off at 3 years old, but this road stuff in the tight clothing was a new phenomenon to me. I got a cross-country race-wheel set and put slicks on. I began riding road on my MTB. All these miles were solo. Once, I was riding and came up on a guy on one of those bikes with a curvy handlebar. We rode alongside each other for a while and conversed. I forget his name, but he was a nice guy. I raced him to the top of a hill for fun. I had a few other friends who were roadies and they encouraged me to buy a road bike that could release additional speed from my legs. I bit the bullet. I bought a new 1.5 year old Specialized Allez that was collecting dust in a bike shop for a discount (I still race this bike). I began training hard alone. I began increasing my mileage. I had seen other cyclists traveling in a group, but had never tried it. I was intrigued.

My friend, TC was also a roadie. He had been riding with a local club. I eventually went on a ride with TC, and he began training me on the rules of a group ride. After riding with him a couple of times, he invited me to a ride with the local club. This was my first group ride ever. The testing began.

When you are a new rider in an established group, there is a system of initiation. One person is the jerk that yells at me when I do something he doesn't like. Another is the one that silently rides ahead of me in an attempt to lead by example. TC was the Shepard, offering positive advice on what to change that would make the group happy with my riding behavior. There was the guy that only ever screams "hold your line". There were others, mostly filling variants of the aforementioned roles.

Then, there was the dropper. Every group has a guy that wants to increase the pace for one reason or another. In the case of my first group ride, I imagine it was partly about wanting to go faster and partly about wanting to get the new learner out of the pack so the adults could play. The dropper moved to the front, opened up a bit, and I was spat out the back. This is the story of my first "test" as a cyclist in a large group. I failed. I don't agree with what Padraig said about not needing a test to ride in a group.

As time passed, I became strong enough to keep up and learned the behavior to avoid people screaming at me for making the rider dangerous for everyone. All cyclists have to learn this sooner or later. When I moved from north TX to central TX, I made friends with a local racer. There was some re-training to be done in order to ride with his group, because the pace was much faster and the groups were smaller. Getting dropped was less about trying to exclude an inexperienced rider, and more about trying to simulate a race. The "hold your line" guy is still there. You could be avoiding a land mine and he would still scream it at you. You eventually learn to tune him out. When "hold your line" guy swerves in on you, just avoid him or place a gentle hand on his hip to keep him from causing a wreck.

I have become a teacher for group riding etiquette for a few people since learning the game. There are a few nuggets of knowledge that I share. One is more important than anything else: Never shout "hold your line" in a group.

Cyclocross Season

2011-12-01T08:58:00.001-06:00

Cyclocross season has been happening for a while now. I think it starts in October in most places. For those of you who don't know what cyclocross is, google "behind the barriers" and watch a few episodes or go to youtube and type in cyclocross to get an operational definition.

My operational definition is dirty offroad racing that is a little faster than mountain bike racing, with different kinds of obstacles than mountain bike racing.

Anyhoo, I was reading about the struggle women's racing has in the cycling world. After the blog post, commenters compared women's racing to women's tennis, women's track, and women's gymnastics. The comment had to do with attracting fan and sponsor attention using scandalous outfits. I would argue that bike racing does not exactly have loose-fitting outfits that conceal a lot of your body. Click here for an explanation.

Another comment had to do with cyclocross as a growing sport with a growing fan-base. This comment did not specifically apply to women's racing, but I feel like there is an underlying story here that does pertain to women's racing. Women's cyclocross racing is not in any trouble at all. Why?

First, cyclocross is a type of bike racing that can be contained in a park or field. Fans that come to watch can get in and out easily and see a lot of action for a long time without having to follow a race for 100+ miles. Also, racers can be fans for events outside their own.

Second, cyclocross races are usually an hour long. Fans don't have to follow one race for 5+ hours to see the event.

The combination of #1 and #2 lead to #3: One event weekend can host men's, women's, masters', pro, amateur, junior, and kid's races. Most event weekends, there is a pro race each day. Fans can come for a day and see lots of racing.

Fourth, it is all just dirty, muddy, sandy fun. The racers are at the red-line. Fans can get within inches of the competitors. Generally there is alcohol involved for fans and sometimes even racers (youtube search the "beer hand-up").

These are basically just reasons why it is fun and easy to be a fan at a cyclocross event. They are also the very reasons cyclocross is gaining attention. Sponsors want to reach out to as many fans as possible. Fans enjoy events with lots of vendors. Thus, an upward spiral begins. Eventually, this upward spiral can reach the proportions of NFL/NBA/NHL events, where 30K+ fans come to spend millions of dollars on vendor/sponsor products to see an event. Now your event has so much draw that sponsors try to out-bid one another for hierarchy. Economically viable?

Stickers

2011-11-23T10:22:00.001-06:00

Quick note:

Those of you that are already deep in the cycling googlweb are probably already aware. Those that aren't should be. There is a new movement out there for making bicycle friendliness more public, in a non-threatening way. Simple stickers.

http://wearebikefriendly.com/

Put them on your car. Put them on your shop window. Put them on your enemies' backs instead of a "kick me" sign.

Low Mileage

2011-11-11T15:04:00.004-06:00

So it has been a while since I have been posting. Sorry. Life happened.

You will be glad to know that I am beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel as far as college goes. If you are wondering (I bet you aren't), I have not been riding much lately. No excuses here. I went out for a ride to clear the cobwebs last week and didn't get to all of them. Maybe sometime this weekend. Maybe not. We'll see what develops.

I am testing out a new writing style that uses less commas and more periods. I hope you like it.

I sold one of my bikes. I told my wife it was because I had too many. I am just creating space for another.

I am drinking Little Sumpin' Sumpin' Ale from Lagunitas Brewing. You'd like it if you like hops.

Good talk. Bye.

Sponsorship

2011-08-05T13:39:00.004-05:00

News hit yesterday that one of the winningest pro cycling teams in recent years will disband at the end of the year because they could not find a sponsor willing to contribute enough money for the team to continue racing. Highroad Sports manages a racing team best known for their star sprinter, Mark Cavendish. Highroad also has plenty of other successful racers, but Cavendish is the one that wins multiple Tour de France stages (and this year's green jersey) every year for the last four years. Rumor has it that a cycling team needs $10m to operate for a year. This pays for salaries of racers, masseuses, directors, doctors, and coaches. With 25-30 racers and as many staff, salaries are spread a little thin. Imagine how hard it is for a team on this budget to seduce just one superstar and still pay everyone else. I haven't even mentioned yet that these teams have to travel to races on three or four continents year-round and feed hungry bike racers. Over the years, HTC phones and Columbia sportswear have been the biggest sponsors fr the Highroad team. HTC's commitment ends this year, and will not be renewed. Nobody else seems to want in, either.

Attracting sponsorship is a big headache. I participate in a local athletic club that puts on a children's triathlon each year. Each year, we have to pry teeth and twist arms in order to secure sponsorship for the race. It costs money to rent barriers, hire cops, close roads, reserve a swimming pool, feed volunteers, order 400 custom T-shirts, and pay the licensing fee to the sanctioning body (USA Triathlon). This year we had landed a lot of sponsors... like 20 or more. Even though the racers all have to pay an entry fee, without sponsor money and products the race would not happen. I think that after attracting 20-ish sponsors, we netted maybe $2500 cash and $1500 in products for SWAG (stuff we all get) and prizes. This is with three very enthusiastic volunteers donating many hours over the course of three months soliciting and seducing local and national businesses for sponsorship.

Many sponsors want to give products for us to sample out at the event. This is great,but if nobody gives us any money, we can't afford to host the event where we could give out the products. Other businesses want to sponsor us by sending volunteers. Again, this is great as long as we get enough cash to fund the event. In pro cycling, this situation also exists. Teams rarely buy bikes, components, saddles, energy gels, or tires. It is cheaper for Trek to give a team 100-150 bike frames than to offer cash money for team sponsorship. It is cheaper for Clif to offer our club boxes of energy food than to send us a check. They are hoping we eat the free food and start buying it when the free rations run out. ROI.

Considering this, I cannot imagine how hard it is to convince a large corporation that they should give a bike racing team $10 million dollars every year. Sponsorhips are like buying advertising. Investors want to see some return-on-investment for their money. Arguably, HTC got ROI from having a 2o-something year old Manxman on the cover of magazines and on website homepages winning races wearing their logo. I imagine HTC argues the ROI was not sweet enough to continue sponsorship of the Highroad team.

Seton Hospital decided they got a good ROI from the Hill Country Kid's Tri, and as such have verbally committed to sponsoring our race next year. I guess it helps that somebody from the board of directors entered his family in the race and had a blast...

For the record, I rode the bike course for 5-6 hours the day of the tri as a course marshall and water-boy for the volunteers. No chamois. 40C (105F) degrees. Who knows how many kilometers that is, but it is at least 1.6 times as many miles.

The season is just getting started!

2011-07-27T20:34:00.001-05:00

Hi everybody!

The tour is over. Cadel Evans won. I call him "Cuddles". The podium looked like a Cuddles on Shleck sammich with mustard, because Frank and Andy Schleck were flanking him on the podium. The mustard part is for the yellow jersey of the winner. French's mustard, of course.

Anyhoo, the tour is over. Many cyclists are done for the year, or riding easy for a month or so before gearing up for the Vuelta a Espana or the World Championship races in the fall. Two of my favorite American racers, however, are already gearing up for races in August. Races in my home country get me all riled up, and major races in my country are even better.

Ted King is from New England, and races for Liquigas Cannondale. This makes him a Pro Team/Pro Tour/Big League rider. Ted is a charismatic, hard working fellow who seems to get along pretty good under his own power. He spends about half of his season living in Italy, where his bike team is headquartered. Ted just returned to intense training in the Colorado Rockies after a broken collarbone and a surgery to fix it. Ted King's website is linked to the right.

Jeremy Powers (JPow) rides for the Jelly Belly Pro Cycling Team. Jelly Belly is a level beneath the Liquigas Cannondale team of TK, but this is partly due to the fact that there are a limited number of Pro Teams, and to be one, you have to have a budget to recruit superstars. JPow is a star in his own right, and definitely races at the level required to be on a Pro Team. This is evidenced by the fact that he is reigning champion of one of the U.S. cyclocross titles. He is also from New England. If Ted King is charismatic (which he is), JPow is cocaine on ritalin with a dash of caffeine. His charisma manifests itself in a slightly more energized way. This has been immortalized on film in a series JPow made called "behind the barriers" that followed Jeremy trough part of his cyclocross season. Jeremy Powers also has a link on the right side of my blog.

These two racers are on my super top favorite list as of right now. I like to see them both in races, and like to see how they contributed to their teams' efforts in those races. As an American race, it is possible that these two will be given a bit more priority to perform for their own credentials (since they are American), and have the team work to help them out. The American race I am referring to is, of course, the Colorado Pro Cycling Challenge That Has Had Trouble Keeping The Name The Same Since Its Inception Since Tour Of Colorado Was Taken And Quizno's Pulled Out As A Title Sponsor, which is a name too long to make an effective acronym for, but not too long to italicize. Ted is also racing in the Tour of Utah two weeks prior to the Colorado race, hopefully in preparation for a super showing in CO. I am on the edge of my seat.

Le Tour

2011-07-13T18:17:00.003-05:00

Well, guess what?

That's right; le Tour de France is upon us. It is actually pretty far along by now. Almost half way done.

If you are following the tour, congrats. If not, I might actually sound original. Here's my take on the events and happenings thus far:

Crashes
There have been plenty of crashes this year. This race usually experiences a few wrecks in the early stages, but this year seems comparatively heavy on carnage. One team has lost its three best riders in two days. Another wreck caused the defending champ to lose time before any mountain stages. One instance saw a TV car sideswipe THE BREAKAWAY on a narrow road, sending a man into a barbed wire fence! WTF!?!

Toughness
Toughness really comes with crashes. The tour is tough every year. Two years ago, Jens Voigt crashed so hard that he needed to be hospitalized for a few days before he could go to a hospital closer to home in stable condition. Last year, Jens Voigt had another bad crash that destroyed his bicycle. He rode a while on some child-sized bike that he borrowed just so he would not have to drop out of the race. Eventually, he team car left a bike on the side of the road for him to swap out while he chased. This year, the aforementioned guy who was punted by a car into a barbed wire fence got up, asked for another pair of shorts (his were destroyed) and an allen wrench to fix his handlebars, got on his bike and rode it while the medical car taped his wounds shut. After he finished the stage (bleeding through his first-aid dressings), he hiked up to a podium presentation before going to the hospital for 33 stitches. He is still working towards a King of the Mountains jersey and finish the tour. Tough does not begin to define some of the riders in this bike race.

Teamwork
There are some riders that have been noticeably out of trouble. These are team leaders that are vying for the overall win and have eight (if there are that many left) compadres that have safely shepherded them this far through the race. Tomorrow is the day that those team leaders will have to break out and create selective events to define who the real contenders for the race will be. Other riders have had great successes already as a result of their teams. Sprinters who have won stages have team mates to thank for chasing down the break, stretching out the group in the final stretch, and leading out the sprints.

Tomorrow is the first day of the French Pyrenees mountains, where the selections for the overall winners of the tour will begin. I have made plans to be left alone while I glue myself to the computer tomorrow and watch the drama.

Trucks

2011-06-30T16:38:00.002-05:00

I was reading Dave Moulton's blog (you can find it to the right) where he was describing an encounter with an aggressive driver in a pickup. The comments in his blog began to be concentric to the pickup part of his post, where commenters (cyclists, all of them) were proclaiming how terrible truck and SUV drivers are to cyclists. I wrote the following comment:

Be careful about grouping people and "hating" on them based on their vehicle. I am a cyclist and a driver. My motor vehicle is a full-size pickup. It is good at taking bikes, wheels, and coolers to the races. People who misbehave on our roads are individuals. Not all drivers in trucks and SUVs are aggressive and malicious. Not all cyclists are responsible and safe.

As a cyclist, I have been in threatening situations with vehicles of all shapes and sizes, including (but not limited to): economy cars, small trucks, big trucks, work trucks/vans, dump trucks, big-rigs, SUVs of all sizes, sedans, scooters, motorcycles, four-wheel drive off-roaders, sports cars, school buses, and police cruisers (sheriff, actually). Over tens of thousands of miles riding my bike, there really hasn't been a trend as to what vehicle type is most commonly owned by the aggressors...as far as I can tell anyway.

I can tell you that my behavior pertaining to lane positioning does have an effect on driver behavior. Riding in a straight, predictable path in the right half of the lane seems to have the safest results. If I ride too close to the road's edge, I get buzzed. If I ride too close to the center line or lane divider, more people honk or yell at me. I always try to dissipate angry drivers with a wave and a smile. It works more than it doesn't

And, according to my measuring tape, selling my Miata to buy my truck did not decrease the size of my penis.

The first part is self explanatory. It may contradict some of the early posts on my blog, but I reserve the right to become more mature and enlightened over time. The second part is a condensed list of what types of vehicles have left notable memories with me regarding dangerous overtaking maneuvers and confrontations. The third part is partly in reference to a previous post I made called "The White Line Test". The fourth part is a lame attempt at humor, after one commenter stated "the bigger the truck, the smaller the penis".

There you have it, folks. If you are not a cyclist, we are all a bunch of groupers and haters. If you are a cyclist, I sincerely hope you are self-aware enough to know this fact. According to us, drivers are hatefully referred to as "cagers". Trucks and SUVs must all belong to aggressive assholes and braindead soccer-moms. Oh yeah, everyone in a car must be fat and unhealthy, too. And they hate the environment.

I am not any better than the peanut gallery I mock. I love grouping people together and having some fun with stereotypes. Honestly, I have always said that stereotypes exist for a reason. If there were no common trends for men who drive giant 4x4 duallies with lift kits, smoke stacks, and bumper testicles, I couldn't group them together and have a laugh at their expense. Consider me another legume, please. Not soy. Anything but soy.

All I can say in serious honesty is that however you travel, do it safely and courteously. Showing respect to all other road users will usually earn some respect in reply. Follow the rules and don't act self righteously. And above all else, laugh at the giant duallies with testicles and smoke stacks. Those people don't even take their own vehicles seriously, why should you?

PS. LeTour begins on Saturday. Are you ready? I am a bit antsy, myself.

Technology

2011-06-15T08:34:00.003-05:00

Yesterday, I had to tear around town finding parts to fix a water leak under my sink. Since I was in a hurry, and had to also shop for groceries, I drove my pickup. Begin chastising me if you must.

I saw something that made me think about technology. Plastic technology has come so far that replacing a crappy water valve with another crappy plastic valve is your only option. If the metal ball-valve still exists, it is triple the price, and the wrong size. Vehicle technology has come so far that driving is boring, and no longer requires much of your attention resources. Anybody ever drive a really old car? Heck, even in a car from the late 70's or early 80's is a bit scary compared to the (literal) push-button driving in a modern car. semiconducter technology has come so far that a single wallet-sized device can be used to communicate via phone, text, email, forum, or blog; all the while allowing you to research anything on the internet, organize your life, set your alarm clock, play video games, navigate, and listen to music.

Yesterday, I looked around an intersection. I was the only driver looking outside the vehicle as we waited for a light to change. The three drivers I could see were talking, texting, and playing with a GPS respectively. I clenched my butt, gritted my teeth, and hoped for the best as the light changed to green.

In 2010, over 32,000 Americans died on the roads. Less than 4,500 American soldiers have died in Iraq since my country invaded it almost a decade ago. I see Americans marching and protesting the war. I see apathy towards domestic safety on our roads.

Major News

2011-05-21T08:10:00.004-05:00

If you read my blog, you do so either because you know me outside the interwebs or you are a cyclist. So, since you already know, or don't care about the big news story in pro cycling right now, I figured I would announce other major news. My wife is making dessert.

That's with two esses. The good kind. Strawberry Lemonade Pie, in case you were wondering. From what I gather after her description, it is like a lemon meringue pie with fresh strawberries in between the lemon and the meringue.

For those of you who read because you know me personally, you know what it means when Martha's prodigy gets out the stand mixer. For those who don't know, let's just say that you probably wish you did know. Ingrid is on a gluten free diet, and has to make any pastry or dessert she wants to eat. Availability (followed by price) makes it very unlikely we could go to a bakery and buy any dessert she could eat. Which brings me to a story.

The tale of the $250 pizza:

One night, Ingrid told me how much she missed eating pizza. Before we had diagnosed her celiac, she ate pizza. She loved it much more than it loved her. I told Ingrid, we should make a gluten-free pizza, since the closest pizzeria with a GF crust was 25 miles away and charged $22 for a 10" pie. We went to the store.

At the store, we bought a GF pizza crust mix. I recommend Bob's Red Mill for their GF mixes. We also bought some chicken breast, bell peppers, yellow onions, red sauce, and cheese. This added up to about $15. I realize this is not really that much less than the pizzeria price. We left the grocery store.

I knew at that moment who would be responsible for mixing up all that crust dough by hand. I asked my wife if she had any desire for a stand mixer. "I guess so, do we really need it?" was her reply. I told her that this GF diet would mean plenty of dough mixing. My arms are not exactly threadlike, but I would be making a big mess if I were required to hand mix everything. She soon supported the purchase of a stand mixer. We went across the street for a mixer at the big box store. Thus, the $250 pizza.

At home, I sliced the chicken breast and produce, then cooked it in a skillet fajita style. Ingrid got to work with her new appliance. An hour later, we pulled one of the best pizzas I have ever had from the oven. Later versions have included various toppings. I recommend pesto, black olives, pickled artichoke, mushrooms, and feta.

The mixer is out now. strawberry lemonade pie.

Helmets

2011-05-14T06:07:00.003-05:00

I have a friend that is on a helmet warpath. She shouts helmet at her children, her friends' children, her friends, and even strangers ad nauseum. Lately, her helmet activism has ramped up. She has a friend who lost a child to a skateboarding accident. Link to News Story

While I am always in support of safety, I would like to say that I don't think this is a good candidate for a helmet rampage. Notably, this child was skateboarding and fell 25 feet onto concrete. He sustained fatal injuries, including head trauma. He did not die from his lack of helmet. He decided to jump into a concrete drainage area from a bridge in an attempt to land an epic skating stunt. I'm comfortable claiming that a skate helmet would have accomplished one of two things:

First, no difference.

Second, vegetable. Maybe the helmet could have saved his life. Now his parents have to keep him on a machine until they can't take the financial/emotional burden any more, ultimately deciding to pull the plug. Maybe the parents don't decide to pull the plug, and the injuries cause complications that end the boy's life a few years down the road. Is this really a better outcome? I'm sure at this point, his parents would prefer any other outcome that what they received.

Earlier this week, a professional cyclist named Wouter Weylandt died in the Giro d'Italia. He had his helmet on, but hit the pavement on a fast descent. At 50+ mph, a bicycle helmet is going to have marginal effects on safety at best. They just aren't designed for impacts at those speeds. The helmet did not save him. In fact, he died so quickly that his heart had stopped beating by the time medical staff reached him (within a minute or two of his crash).

Every time I read a story about a car striking a bicycle rider, the presence (or lack) of a helmet is mentioned. If the rider dies and is not wearing a helmet, the public seems to stop searching for answers. The reason that person dies was a lack of a helmet. Never mind that the person went under a Mac truck. Never mind that after going under the truck, the person was dragged until the body was barely recognizable. They died because they weren't wearing a helmet. End of story, let the driver go.

Helmets are a helpful safety item. They HELP protect you from brain injuries. They HELP keep the skin on your head. They also have design limitations. I get irritated when people use sensational stories to try to justify helmet use. People see me riding my bike to work and school without a helmet and tell me I'm stupid or don't value my life. "Your brain is only as valuable as the helmet you put it in" they say. Once, a person even told me it was better to be a vegetable than dead.

I am very realistic with safety. I bet I have said this here before, but it is worth repeating. My approach to safety is to avoid collisions, rather than preparing for them. I am a proponent of using lots of lights in low visibility situations. I recommend the application of defensive avoidance maneuvers. I support signaling, taking the lane, riding predictably in traffic, and taking action to be more visible to drivers and pedestrians. I am also a supporter of not jumping from bridges in attempts to record the best skate stunt ever on video. If you can avoid crashing, arguing about helmet use is moot.

The White Line Test

2011-03-31T17:26:00.002-05:00

Prescript: this research was not performed to the standards of actual scientific research. This activity is more akin to the pretesting a scientist would do in preparation of his/her research.

ABSTRACT
A behavioral test was performed upon motor-vehicle operators in response to bicycle roadway positioning. The purpose of this study was to determine if there is a difference in the behavior and operation of vehicles when approaching a bicycle operating in the lane versus a bicycle operating along the edge of the lane.

METHODS
This week I chose to use two days as test days. I only observed data on trips to Kyle, Texas from San Marcos, Texas. This trip includes about 10 or 11 miles of two-lane road, divided by a yellow line and bordered by a white one. We'll call the first day "treatment 1 (t1)" and the second day "treatment 2 (t2)". During t1, I rode at my average daily pace and occupied the right half of the driving lane. I kept the bicycle approximately where the right tire path would be worn into the road surface. For t2, I operated my bicycle within 1 foot of the white stripe along the rightmost border of the lane. When possible, I stayed outside the lane, to the right of the line. There is not a shoulder along the entire route, so I picked a range within 1 foot of the lane's edge.

During both treatments, I kept track of how many cars passed me within the following criteria: (a) changed lanes completely to pass, (b) at least half of the vehicle width passed into the other lane to pass me, (c) less than half of the vehicle width crossed the yellow line to pass me, and (d) the vehicle did not cross the yellow line at all to pass me. I also did my best to keep track of the actual distance between me and the vehicle that was passing me, based on two criteria: close and far. Close is defined by any vehicle that passed within 3 feet of me. Far is any vehicle that passed more than 3 feet from me.

This research would have been scientific if I had recorded it with a camera or something, I had to rely on my memory and perception of closeness.

RESULTS
During t1, 80% of the vehicles passing me crossed at least half way into the other lane to overtake. Only 1 vehicle was within 3 feet of me, and that vehicle fell into the other 20%. During t2, 75% of the passing vehicles were less than half way into the other lane while passing. There were 4 instances of passing "close". On both trips, I was passed by between 30 and 40 vehicles.

DISCUSSION
The spatial difference between the center of the operating spaces of t1 and t2 was only about 2.5-3 feet. The average spatial difference between where the passing vehicles drove was more than 2.5-3 feet. In other words, By placing myself into the lane by a little bit, passing vehicles allowed me a greater passing distance. Interesting.

Ride safe out there, people.

That was wierd

2011-03-07T19:46:00.002-06:00

Tonight, I was riding my bicycle home from San Marcos, and came pretty close to one of my worst nightmares as a bicycle commuter. First, I am highly fearful of getting hit by a car. Second, I am afraid I will collide with a large animal. Guess what, I nearly was hit by a car tonight. This was just a run-of-the-mill encounters that has happened to everyone once. I was approaching an intersection where I need to turn left to get home. I saw and heard a car approaching from behind, so I made exaggerated left turn hand signals at a distance appropriately ahead of my turn (10 seconds ahead...ish). As I got to the turn, I looked over my shoulder to ensure my safe navigation when I observed a speeding car trying to pass me. All this in spite of my signaling and safe activities. I gave him another hand signal. One that I very rarely use. I should regret that I used the second gesture, but it got the driver to slow and yield right of way to me, so I am glad I used it effectively.

The second big fear I mentioned in my opening was not a close call from the trip tonight. It was a reality. I was hit by a deer! I was as surprised as you are.

So, I was traveling down a hill, almost home. I was thinking to myself, "It's time to change the batteries in my headlight, the projection is getting a little weak." Did I mention that I was traveling downhill with a tailwind? Amidst my thoughts of headlights and dangerous drivers, I notice a silhouette in the road ahead. It's a couple of deer, and I am barreling towards them down a hill. I call out to the deer, hoping to scare them into moving off the road. I couldn't have gotten myself stopped in time to miss them, so my only option is to thread the needle between these animals, hoping they run away from the fast-moving noise-making cyclist. One deer, let's cal her "Fittest", went straight to the nearest ditch and hopped the fence into a field. The other, let's call that one "Darwin", started for the other ditch, then about-faced to follow her friend. In a snap decision, I stood up and pulled off the hardest four-pedal-stroke sprint I have ever thought of. Eat your heart out, Mark Cavendish. In route, Darwin smacked her head into my hip, stumbled, then followed Fittest after regaining her footing. Nobody was hurt, but both of us were terrified (I'm projecting feelings onto the deer, since that is how I'd feel after hitting my head on a fast-moving car). I climbed the hill to my neighborhood trembling. I was still thinking about my weak headlamp, but no longer of the bad driver. Now all I could think about were the what-ifs. What if the deer (about 50-60 lb) had been a little faster? A little heavier? A male with horns on his head?

Man, that was weird.

just click the links I post

2011-03-02T22:26:00.002-06:00

I found this in the comments section of another blog. It rings true, despite the fact that it is 61 year-old social commentary. Modern cartoons have no merit in this light.

Linkie!!!

I have caught myself. Have you? Are you being honest with yourself? I'm better than I used to be.

The cobbled classics

2011-02-26T14:54:00.003-06:00

This weekend marks the beginning of the real European racing season, where all the big dogs come out to play for real. Today was a major race in Belgium, Omloop Het Nieuwsblad. The race ended with a two man break-away playing a slow game of tactics in the last kilometer before a quick sprint finish. Watch the end here. It is a tense, but not entirely fast-paced finish.

Tomorrow is another race that gets the riders warmed up for the major classics races of the year: the cobbled classics. There are a few races where riders ride over the most inappropriate paving surfaces in order to fight for glory on the cobbles. This paving is accomplished with varying degrees of organization. Some roads are basically just mud pits with some rock thrown in for farm implements to gain traction. Others are built with a neat grid of rectangular paving stones. Either way, there is bound to be one of two conditions controlling the race excitement: excessive rain and mud, or wind and dust. Also, the road surface is rough, which reminds me of a few select ribbons of road around my area that I avoid like the plague: the Texas Pave.

Texas Pave (pronounced pah-vay) is a term I enlist to describe the various crappy roads in Texas. In some places, the aggregate size used for chip-n-seal repaving projects seems more appropriate for building construction. In others, heavy trucks have caused the roads to "washboard" at corners to the tune of 3cm undulations in the road surface. My favorites, of course, are the dirt and gravel roads in the rural areas. Not only are these roads rough and slippery at the same time, but the only traffic on them is represented by that guy who threw a Budweiser bottle at you on your last ride. I'll show those Belgians what a real hard-man is, should they wish to accompany me on a ride in 115 degrees with a few hicks chasing us because they are bored. I know just the road.

How to Spot a Cyclist: Peanut Butter

2011-02-11T07:36:00.003-06:00

Everybody knows a cyclist, whether or not they know it. Sometimes, it is just a mistaken case of "that person is so odd..." In today's installment, we will touch on one feature of a person that may help you identify the cyclist that you know as a bike rider.

The first thing to know about cyclists is that they all have an addiction to a particular legume in butter form. That guy strolling down the street with a huge jar of peanut butter and a spoon is a solid candidate for being outed as a cyclist. Of course, exceptions can be made for people with allergies. The problem there is that the quantity of peanut butter in my diet would make that person allergic to me and my body oils. You don't believe me? I'll tell you a little about my daily diet:

I wake up and have a bagel with cream cheese and a half-pot of coffee every morning. If I have run out of cream cheese, I use peanut butter. I ride my bike to San Marcos with a small box packed full of food. I eat the contents of the box one item at a time, spacing out my consumption: two packages of peanut butter toasty crackers, one package of peanut butter granola bars, and one peanut butter and jelly (preserves, actually) sandwich. The sandwich gets a doubly heavy serving of peanut butter. There is also a can of Dr. Pepper in my bag most days. When I get home, I eat a spoonful of peanut butter to hold me until dinner. My wife usually prefers that our dinner is not peanut butter based, but when she is out of town...

I admit, I do get tired of peanut butter occasionally. This is the prime opportunity to outline what is an acceptable substitute to peanuts when you get tired of eating them: cashews. Cashews and cashew butter are pretty awesome. I would eat them in equal proportions to peanut butter, if the price was closer to that of peanut butter. If you have never made a sandwich with cashew butter and some blueberry preserves, I recommend giving it a try. I like it.

For that matter, I guess I have caught myself also substituting tree nuts for peanuts. I like almonds and pecans and walnuts. Sometimes I find myself thinning out my peanut butter intake by substituting the granola bars for something with a tree nut as the main flavor contributor.

Back to the main point, I love peanut butter. My cycling buddies also love it. It is a common sight to see a PB&J come out of a jersey pocket in the middle of a ride. If it is not me, I am always jealous that I didn't think to pack myself one. If you think someone may be a cyclist, offer them a peanut butter sandwich. If you are right, there may be stump at the end of your arm after that cyclist is through eating the sandwich.

Doping in Sport

2011-02-02T16:26:00.002-06:00

I was listening to the news today, and heard an interesting story. With the upcoming Superbowl, a reporter was telling about how this year's game will have the biggest players in Superbowl history. I get my laptop out. The Steelers, according to their team website, have 13 men over 300 lbs on the game roster. The packers also have 13 men over 300 pounds, according to that team's official website. The teams have very few members that weigh less than 200 pounds. Back to the news story, the reporter cuts to a nutritionist who outlines that the athletes are bigger because they eat more. He goes on to explain that what they eat is important, as well. I don't know if I could move that fast AND weigh 300 pounds just by pumping iron and putting a lot of meat and potatoes in my gut. As far as running or cycling goes, my speed and my weight have an inverse relationship.

I have heard news stories in the recent past alleging abuse of anabolic steroids and human growth hormone (HGH) in the NFL, as well as other sports. It is not a big deal, though. People caught using these drugs are given small fines and short suspensions. Cyclists who get caught receive two years for a first offense, with a fine equal to 70% of the rider's annual income for the year they were caught. A second offense is a lifetime ban from the sport. Football bans are usually in terms of a few weeks, and I have not heard of any players losing eligibility from competition for an entire season. Punishments seem to be less standardized than cycling, and decided on a case-by-case basis.

What does this tell us? Is one sport cleaner? I wouldn't assume so. Football has better unions for the athletes, while cycling (arguably) does more to stop drug use in sport. Allegations about corruption in cycling's various governing bodies indicate that appearances might be deceiving, though. You wouldn't assume that the NFL is less corrupt than the UCI or USA Cycling in terms of handling the super stars getting busted in a drug test, would you? I just think the NFL is better at media control.

Doping in Cycling

2011-02-01T16:12:00.002-06:00

Floyd Landis Interview Link

For the lay-people that read this, "doping" is a term used to describe the use of performance-enhancing drugs in sports. In cycling, Floyd Landis was stripped of his Tour de France win because a test for performance-enhancing drugs revealed that he had cheated. He denied it for a while. In the last year, he has taken a different stance and admitted to using banned chemicals and techniques.

Many people have many opinions s to why he is saying what he is saying. Some claim that he wants to come clean and do his part to remedy the problem by telling authorities the who and how behind doping systems. Others claim that he is living out his scornful impulses for getting caught cheating and lying.

The link above is to an unedited interview transcript. If you read it all you are a serious fan of pro cycling with a lot of free time. I read the whole thing in two very long sittings. Either before or after, do some research about various doping techniques and the myriad of stories and opinions on offer. I'll save you from having to read my take on things, because it is lass flamboyant, polar, entertaining, and interesting than what others have on offer.

Just to challenge yourself, try to identify where the allegiances are between lovers/haters/unbiased individuals and media outlets in cycling and report back.

The Mofin Chronicles: Stuck Up Roadie

2011-01-30T00:10:00.000-06:00

Cyclists who frequent the public roads are acutely aware of the presence of cars near them. Drivers need not give a glancing horn honk to alert us of their presence. Believe me, I can hear the thrum of the tires and the wind coming of your vehicle from a substantial distance. While every generalized statement has exceptions, it would be safe to say that cyclists don't hate cars or the drivers operating them. There are always occasions of certain drivers who try to ruin the apple bushel, though.

So one day I am going on a ride with My Only Friend In the Neighborhood (Mofin). Maybe you have heard of him in a previous post. He is a genuinely wonderful guy, however he has his quirks. Most notably is his forward honesty and confrontational nature. He is not so much confrontational that he is going to pick any fights with you, but he will definitely voice his opinion and get under your skin if he feels you have earned his two cents.

We approach an intersection as we are just leaving the neighborhood and a sedan passes us as it stops for the stop-sign. Believe me when I tell you that it was too close. The situation would have been safer with the driver waiting his turn behind us at the intersection, then proceeding with caution. This is the precise reason that when approaching intersections, Mofin and I always "take the lane" to help drivers around us make safer decisions. Once all parties involved have successfully navigated the intersection, we give plenty of passing room to approaching (behind or ahead) traffic.

Anyhoo, this guy passes us too closely and now has to swerve in front of us while slamming on his brakes in order to "stop" at the stop-sign. Mofin decided that this is an opportunity to share his opinion with the driver. He is kind of behind/beside the car... basically at the corner of the rear bumper of this car. Mofin taps his knee on the quarter panel of the car and slaps his hand on the door glass while the driver pulls into the intersection. couple of disgusted looks, gestures and a honk later and we are on our way, ready to start our ride. I don't condone anyone's actions here, except my own. I saw the car coming from my peripheral vision and gave plenty of space. I asked Mofin what he was trying to accomplish and received the response:

I figured if he was that comfortable being so close to me that he wouldn't mind me leaning on his car at the stop sign.

Forty or so miles later, we were nearing town. As we approached a stop sign, a small pickup truck passed us too closely and performed a similar swerve-n-stop maneuver. Mofin repeated his slap routine and this time the driver slammed on his brakes. Mofin swerved to avoid a collision (again) and pulled alongside the driver's open window. There was an exchange of words that I didn't catch, because I was again far enough away from the aggressive drive to feel safe. After a few seconds (seemed like longer) of Mofin riding alongside the truck hanging on the window "talking" with the driver the two separated and the driver tore off down the road under full-throttle. I inquired to the conversation. Mofin said:

I asked why he was driving like that and he called me a 'stuck up roadie'. I called him a 'fat mountain biker'. I mean, if he knew that I was a roadie, he must ride a bike, right? I don't get it, though. How could he conclude that I am stuck up without ever talking to me? All I said was that he was being too dangerous.

We then pondered the phrase stuck up roadie for a while. It has become a term of endearment that we use jokingly with each other as an inside joke. I still give plenty of space around Mofin, cars, and intersections.

Let me repeat that I generally do not condone such actions as described in this story. Let me also repeat the generalized comments have exceptions. I have, from time to time, initiated a conversation with a driver that I thought was disregarding safety. Once, it was the safety of my wife, who was accompanying me on a ride. Another time, the driver was an employee of San Marcos in a maintenance van (He could be setting good examples instead of bad). Neither time did I bang on their cars while they were moving, but rather stopped at intersections. In every occasion I have witnessed, the final scene is of a driver speeding off aggressively. For this reason I don't waste my time any more.

Draw the Line

2011-01-28T15:58:00.005-06:00

Road racing cyclists participate in many peculiar rituals. One such ritual is to consume at least as many calories in beer (and, on a couple of occasions: burgers) post-ride as you spent while riding. Another such ritual is making fun of lesser beings, usually aiming these unsolicited opinions at car drivers and recreational cyclists that just don't look right on their bikes. Lastly, road racers tend to shave hair from their bodies. Which stands to question: where do you draw the line?

Having been in the proximity of other nude racers while changing, I have never taken advantage of such opportunity for scientific observation. I also, have never been told what portions of hair should or should not be removed. Usually it is just stated that racers (and other serious recreational roadies) shave their legs, but to what end do they shave? I am making a couple of guesses on hair-shaving opportunities and have decided to name them. We'll see if it is funny after I conceive and write them down.

The Tan Line. It is entirely possible that some male cyclists want to fit in with the group, but are careful not to remove too much hair for fear of lost manliness. The resulting treatment is the removal of all leg hair that would be otherwise visible while wearing cycling bibs, and nothing more. Unclothed, this person would have hair beginning where the tan ends.

The Baby: When getting started, maybe you are getting the lines wrong while "edging the yard". In efforts to keep some symmetry, the line creeps upwards until there was no hair below the waist at all. At this point you think to yourself, "It looks silly to have all this body hair above the waist and look like a flabby ten-year-old below the waist. Here goes nothing!" Then you are lucky to have any hair left on the top of your head.

The Thigh High: Traveling up to an area where the argument of "leg" gets gray, you just shave your legs. There is no hard rule for drawing lines here. If you consider that patch of skin your leg, shave it. This solution gives a particularly peculiar look to naked men with hairy backsides. It is OK. Only a select few will ever be privy to your embarrassing (em-bare-ass-ing?) condition... unless you are arrested or immortalized on the internet.

The Anything but There: Imagine you want the Olympic-swimmer look like The Baby offers, but can't bring yourself to finishing the job with respect to you more sensitive skin. This option is there for sufferers of in-grown hairs.

Just remember, if you go through all the trouble of shaving your legs, make sure you keep your drive train clean. Naked legs are not to be smudged with chain grease and road grime.

Up next: more chronicles of Mofin.

Edit: A friend of mine added "his personal favorite" shaving technique. Thigh High + Balls. I'll let your imagination run as wild as mine did. Let's not outline which of my friends offered this up, since it is his "personal favorite". I will now only see one thing the next time I ride with him...

Factory Goodness

2011-01-23T08:01:00.003-06:00

Yesterday, I rode 90+ miles with my new team, Factory Goodness. It was a good ride, and I learned about my limits a little bit more. Also, mofin is on the team, meaning comedic banter and heavy drinking will surely be involved. For example, he was initiating me to the central focus of the team and said:

"Our team is really about having fun and racing. The easiest way to have fun while racing, of course, is winning. So long as you are trying to win and having fun, you'll get long just fine."

During the ride, another team mate pointed out a VPL (visible panty line) on a female cyclist we had encountered. It reminded me of story. I think this year will be fun and memorable, so long as I can manage to win.

Come cheer us on at the Tour of New Braunfels on February 12-13. It'll be fun.

The new Commuting season is upon me

2011-01-16T09:23:00.003-06:00

I have taken a little time off the bike lately. I think I have been riding about once or twice a week since late November. Let's just say I'm fat and slow right now. That being said, the 5 days-a-week commute to San Marcos will resume on Tuesday.

In the past, I had an old ten speed with braze-ons and a bike rack. It served my purposes well: cheap, ugly, bike rack, gears. It was a noodle with a load on the rack, though. Also, the bottom bracket carrier was on its way out. A little less than a year ago, the threads in the frame for the bottom bracket finally wore smooth and I could no longer ride that bike. I began riding to school with a heavy bag on my back using my two racing/training bikes (neither have rack braze-ons). This made my back hurt. I also mounted my rack to a beach cruiser and tried to ride it to San Marcos. This was futile, because of the grossly inefficient application of beach cruiser to hills (albeit small hills).

At first, I'm sure you would figure the solution would be a cheap bottom bracket for bikes with stripped shells. They exist, and are only $20. Not me. I instead used the scraps from my garage to build a light commuter bike using two tail light mounts designed to clamp onto seat-stays. Using these clamps as makeshift rack mounts, I put my rack on my track bike. I then put a road bar and a brake on the same bike. You see, I no longer live close enough to a track to use this bike as it was intended. I feel bad walking past it and getting out another bike. It is my new commuter. Aside from multiple gears, coasting, a rear brake, and a heavy load capacity (plastic rack mounts = low weight capacity), this bike is perfectly suited to my needs. I'll let you know how terrible this plan was after I learn the hard way.

Weak legs part 2

2011-01-09T14:54:00.004-06:00

This past weekend, my wife participated in an off-road running race in Bandera, TX. Bandera is buried in the southern portion of the Hill Country. Although I was under the impression that I was familiar with the hills of the Texas Hill Country, my presumptions were corrected upon arrival in Bandera.

I am now privy to the true Texas Hill Country. WOW.

I negotiated to have The weekend off so I could join my wife on her adventure. We took the tent and camped the night before her race. My wife is friends with another runner who also participated in this race. Let's call this person "Mofin's Wife" (remember Mofin?). So, my wife and Mofin's wife went to race in the woods on Satruday morning. Mofin and I are stuck in a very rural, very hilly, very beautiful area while our wives run in the woods for four hours. What would you do?

Aside from the immediate story, I am going to be racing on the same team as my only friend in the neighborhood in the upcoming race season. We needed to begin training, since the big hometown race is in our local stomping grounds.

Mofin and I prepared for the weekend by bringing our bikes. He prepared further by changing his cassette to allow easier climbing. He decided not to tell me this until after we arrived in Bandera, but since I do not have a variety of gearing options on my limited budget, it made little difference. We drove out to a town called Utopia to start our ride. We then rode about 4 hours. I don't know how many miles, lets just say it was significantly fewer than my average for a four hour ride. The hills were borderline mountainous. There were three climbs that took about 20 minutes each. There was one that took 30. I was in the easiest gear for each. I know this is not the rocky mountains, but impressive for central Texas.

At points, each climb felt like it was approaching 18-20%. There were a couple of times where the slope eased and the roads looked as if they were going downhill for a short stretch. In reality, I was still climbing, just a shallower grade. Mofin dropped me on each climb, as he is a stronger rider than me. He asked me if I had punctured once, because he was waiting for a long time for me to catch up. I was just tired. I said something to the effect of "I feel like I am trying hard, but I don't think I am going fast."

On the way back to the truck, my legs started cramping. First on the tops, then the insides, then the backs. All in fast succession over the course of 10 minutes. I was cooked. Never had a town sign meant so much to me than seeing my truck (and knowing that there was some post-ride recovery beverage in it) just beyond the sign reading "Utopia".

Mofin had already found the stash of Old Chub in the toolbox. Utopia indeed.

Postscript: My wife finished her run admirably and impressively. A few of our HCTC friends also participated and there were no injuries, so it was a good day for all.

Weak legs

2011-01-05T14:17:00.003-06:00

Well, it is a new year. I am beginning to plan for the upcoming season of commuting to school and training for road racing... often simultaneously. After taking a month off the bike for physical and mental recovery, I have begun to ride again. What I have learned is that my holiday feasting has lead to weight gain and speed loss, and that my legs feel weak earlier in the ride.

I did not decide to buy leg strengthening shoes, although some companies market their shoes as such. Wen it comes to advertising, I am generally a skeptic (until I receive testimonials from trusted source that I personally know). That being said, I would never have thought a class action lawsuit would be raised against a shoe company because your ass didn't shape up enough. It seems as if the plaintiff was unaware that the shoes have little effect on a person who sits at the couch all day and eats. I guess I could sue Cinelli for my slowness and also for the fact that I am not "euro-cool". Is there a correlation between leg strength and mind strength, Stephen Hawking excepted?

Credit goes to Ted King of the Garmin-Cervelo pro racing team for enlightening me to the link.

Recovery

2010-11-17T19:55:00.002-06:00

This is what I have for dinner when my wife goes out of town. She made me cheesecake for my birthday and I had a good brew left over. Interestingly, I rode very few miles today. I also ran my personal fastest 1 mile time trial (1.6K for cyclists who abide by their euro rules).
For those interested in trying out beers, I like most things from Lagunitas. That being said, you had better like fruity aromatic hops before you spend money on a 6er of this stuff. The tangy-ness is in line with their IPA, but this one has a different flavor under the hops. They describe it as a "rich copper ale". I describe it as delicious.

Rules, laws, formulas, and accepted practices

2010-11-14T09:14:00.007-06:00

Cycling has a lot of rules that are not clearly stated when you buy your bike. There are some rules that every cyclist would be wise to become familiar with, at risk of being considered not "in the know", and that would be horribly unfair to those who have simply never been told.

Road cyclists have more rules than other types of cyclists, and I am not sure why. I did not create the system, I just choose the parts that I wish to fit into. I will gladly tell you how I don't fit in, because I am largely "in the know", but choose to ignore some rules. Nobody follows them all, and they are mostly guidelines that were mostly conceived in rebuttal to ridiculous and silly-looking bikes and cyclists. Here is an introduction to the rules that are easy to follow for road bicycle aesthetics.

The first rule that one must follow in bike set-up is general proportionality. If you look at the picture below of one of my bikes, you can follow along with the general proportionality guidelines.

First, the saddle of a road bike must be higher than the handlebars. It is adjustable for comfort, but must be within the guidelines. If you simply cannot ride a bike with the saddle above the handlebars, I recommend a hybrid bike, because no stuck-up-roadie will take you seriously.

Second, the saddle should be near level. The nose should not be noticeably higher or lower than the tail. This rule is applicable to all bikes that are not used for stunts, including hybrids, cruisers, and mountain bikes. Excluded from this rule are BMX and downhill racers, since those cyclists have a strict set of counter-rules (as a statement of their adolescent rebellious attitude).

Third, the handlebars must be centered and facing straight forward. This is given, I guess. The angle of the handlebars relative to the ground is very important. Notice on my bike above that the "drops" (the section with the lowest hand position) are slightly inclining toward the front. Some argue that this section should be level. It is one rule that I chose to ignore for comfort, power, and aero positioning on my bike. That being said, if you were to go any more steeply inclined than this, your bike will look like it belongs to a total amateur. The brake lever tips must be in line with the line made by the drops. If your levers hang below the bars, it will limit your hand position options and your bike will look droopy. If you bring the levers up too high, they look like the fangs of a defensive rattler.

The wheels must be installed correctly. There are possibilities that the wheel was built incorrectly (like mine...not my doing), but there is never n excuse to put it on the bike wrong. Because of the rear cassette, it is difficult to install a rear wheel backwards. The front is different. The picture above is taken from the angle of the cyclist looking down on the front hub (zoomed in). This is the angle from which the logo on the hub should be read. If your logo is right-side-up when you are standing in front of you bike, it is actually upside-down. Remove your wheel and turn it around.

If your hubs are etched so that they can be read from on e side or the other, dispose of them and buy Campagnolo hubs. Campy never breaks the rules, ever.

Quick-release skewers must always have the "acorn nut" on the drive side and the lever on the non-drive side. When you close the levers on your skewers, the lever for the front wheel should barely trail the fork. The lever for the rear wheel should align between the chainstay and the seatstay of the frame (inside the "triangle"). This is the most common rule to be broken: most roadies think their bike looks more aero with the skewer levers facing straight backward. It is your job to correct them. No aerodynamic advantage should be taken at the cost of beauty, with exceptions made for time trial bikes and kit (where no compromises are allowed for beauty in place of aero). As such, I do not own a TT rig.

Drive side is a reference to where the chain is. Think about it before you ask me to clarify.

Tire logos must always be centered over the valve stem on the drive side. In the case of the tires pictured, they are tubular and impossible to get wrong. With conventional tires (clinchers), this is important. Aesthetes try to justify this rule by stating that you can find a hole in your tube or tire more easily, because of the reference between the tire and the tube positions. This is all hogwash. If your tire is equipped with two logos, the more colorful one goes over the valve. If you paid for your two-logo tires with money, they had better have said logos positioned 180 degrees apart from each other, or you are making a return.

Less expensive tires will not have logos. These tires can still be used, but you should look for a section with letters and numbers to call a "logo". The section on the sidewall with sizing information usually suffices.

If your tire has tread pattern, note the directionality of the tread. There is a difference. V-shaped chevron patterns should "point forward" as you look down on your tires from the riding position. The pattern left in the dirt should point to from whence you came.

In review, tires logos must face the drive side while the tread is facing the correct direction. If this is not the case, take the tires back to the bike shop ad throw them through the window... just like that Discount Tire commercial. To avoid confusion, some tire companies place logos on both sides of the tire. Remember: Belgian and German tire companies follow the logo rules. French companies follow the rules as well, but the tires are worthless (however expensive, strangely).

Recovery in a bottle

2010-11-09T16:17:00.003-06:00

The best recovery after a hard bike ride is to eat proteins and stretch out your muscles. In a pinch, just go with some sort of calories.

I prefer to have a cold one after a hard ride. Beer generally tastes good at exactly 7 minutes after you dismount, so be sure to keep a cooler near the ride's finish line. Today, we will cover an individual brew from my personal favorite style: the pale ale.

I recently put back a bottle of Sierra Nevada's Harvest Ale. The gimmick is that this stuff is a pale ale with fresh hops added, rather than dried hops. Beer snobs (read: more alcoholic than me and trying to justify it) will use this a jumping-off point for mouth-feel and oils.

The thing is, for whatever reason, pale ales (and IPA's, etc.) are well suited for a warm day after a hard ride. They are a bit bitter, but with a little citrus reminiscent of grapefruit. That tartness is like an energy drink for the soul. This particular brew is not too bitter, though. It is a good try for people who want to try to teach themselves to like pale ales, but don't want to dive straight into the very bitter IPA territory.

The problem is that the bottle does not fit into the bidon cage as well as a taller 750ml bottle from other breweries. Sierra Nevada like the short and fat look, I guess.

Hit and Run

2010-11-09T12:03:00.002-06:00

If you read any other cycling websites, you have already seen this story:

http://www.vaildaily.com/article/20101104/NEWS/101109939/1078&ParentProfile=1062

Here's the short version:

A rich money manager in Colorado hits a vacationing cyclist and leaves him for dead. The cyclist gets help from another motorist who happens to see him laying in a pile of bike parts and a pool pf blood. The wealthy money manager flees to a parking lot on the other side of town and calls Mercedes roadside service for a tow.

In court, the prosecuting DA decided to drop the felony hit-and-run charge, citing primarily that the accused would have professional implications resulting from the felony charges. Now you probably want to go back up and read the story. You don't have to be a sympathetic cyclist to have a strong response to this one.

Anyway, one possible scapegoat being used is that the driver of the Mercedes had Sleep Apnea. Nobody reporting the news has done much analysis of this statement, it seems. Sleep apnea only affects people that are already asleep, and has no bearing on causing uncontrollable sleep. Sleep apnea is, to simplify, not breathing consistently during sleep. Read the Wiki:

Wikipedia for sleep apnea

This does not bother me because a cyclist was hit by a car. As bothersome as that issue is, I am mostly upset because of the politics at play in the justice system. You see, the prosecutor is running for a seat in the state legislation. I wonder if he is just trying to step lightly around all the big-money constituents.

Creepy happy halloWEEN

2010-10-30T20:33:00.002-05:00

I heard this on the radio this morning. The DJ's were playing creepy songs.

Listen to the lyrics closely. This is a very creepy song. I like it, mostly because I am a huge fan of obscurity.

Spinal Meningitis (got me down) by Ween

Happy halloween, everybody.

community

2010-10-26T18:47:00.002-05:00

Today, I was riding my bike home from San Marcos. I began the trip atop a rather large hill, where I have to use the brakes to keep my speed within the posted limit. Since the cars around me speed, I usually do not use the brakes on this hill. I still get passed, because of the Texas Drivers' ego and the inferred inferiority of the bicycle. A truck pulled out in front of me while I was traveling at about 45 MPH and proceeded to go about 25 for a while. He underestimated my speed, and I had to execute extremely aggressive braking to avoid collision.

As I rode home, I saw a person speed past me in a school zone. I was traveling at the posted limit at that point. A San Marcos police officer on a motorcycle witnessed this as well, and signaled for the driver to pull over. They decided to use the bike lane in front of me to complete their transaction.

The next car in line was not speeding (any more), and let me over to pass the stopped vehicles. I gave a wave of gratitude. There was no return wave.

For about 2 miles of bike lane, I chose to ride in the regular traffic lane. I guess I didn't have to ride in the regular lane, but there was a little debris in the bike lane. By "a little debris", I mean about eleven trash bins and various piles of broken glass spread over the 2 mile stretch. These conditions have persisted for over a year now. They ran a street sweeper once, I guess.

Just north of the city limits, a sedan passed me and immediately hit the brakes in front of me to turn onto a side-street. The sedan behind that car was beside me - trying to pass - then executed a left turn from the oncoming lane to follow the first sedan. Apparently I was traveling at an infuriatingly slow pace.

I passed 5 animals that had been killed by motor vehicles today (PFD=5). One deer, one varmint (mangled beyond recognition), two snakes, and one turkey-vulture. My nose told me there was another dead animal somewhere, but I did not see it. I guess it made it to the treeline before laying down to die. While I understand that animals will sometimes run into the road unannounced, I will testify that 95% of the drivers I encounter on that road are exceeding the posted 35-40mph limit (by my guesstimate).

When I got to my town, Kyle, the drivers at an intersection near my house all stopped completely before safely proceeding on their way. Two gentlemen in a city work truck smiled and waved at me as they drove through the intersection. I passed the intersection and entered my neighborhood.

In my neighborhood, a woman in a compact SUV looked straight into my eyes before turning into the road in front of me and almost hitting me. I couldn't tell what look she gave me in the rear-view mirror, but I never saw a friendly wave or smile. She went a little less than a block before crossing the road to park along the curb in front of her house.

When I got home, I was very happy about the polite encounter at the intersection in Kyle. I tally that trip as a good one.

Society Taxonomy

2010-10-19T16:08:00.003-05:00

I periodically read things in periodicals. As such, I find myself engrossed in the opinions section of my university's newspaper, The University Star. There is a particular staff member that offers his opinion once a week and captivates me every time. This is not because he is particularly good at writing. This is also not because he has particularly agreeable opinions. I can't decide whether he takes himself seriously, or makes outlandish political rants in order to entice reader response.

I am, of course, referring to Mike Guzman, curmudgeon-y republican at large. Some of his rantings are actually so extreme that the GOP might not want him. This guy takes aim at "hippies" (his words) and starts hating loud-and-proud. Generally, any person who has discrepant opinions compared to his is subject to the hippie labeling. This has included Green Peace fundraisers, cyclists, and girls who wear gym shorts in past articles. I thought I would take a brief (for the first time ever) look at how I might wish to categorize people based on their political/social/economic situations.

I'll work on that later, since it will be a long post. This time, I will talk about the differences between "hippie", "hipster", and "guzman" as three types of college students.

Hippies, as MG would like to group, is just about every college student in existence, including MG himself. I would argue that college hippies are generally a little older than the average college student. Lovers of free love, free drug use, and free-everything else; hippies are politically most similar to libertarians. Most hippies would want to live and let live, without having to worry about people destroying their planet with McMansions (vocab credit: Judy Smith) or having "the man" come down on them and infringe upon their rights.

Hipsters, on the other hand, are most similar to both democrats and also the people that MG likes to hate upon repeatedly. Hipsters are like culture/fad leaches that accumulate aspects of other cultural groups and assimilate them into their daily routines for the sake of enlightened coolness. Hipsters tend to be a drain on the economy, and want the authorities (mom and dad) to provide for them. Smart hipsters know that their time to mooch from their parents is limited, and want the government to put together a great-big social-economic net to hold them and coddle them while they remain work-less despite their MFA's and other college palmares.

Guzmans are most closely related to no political party I can think of. HA! You expected me to relate this guy to the GOP, didn't you? In reality, I predict that even the right wing extremists of the republican party would be wary of letting MG align with them, officially.

For the record, I will be in the University star in an upcoming issue as a photo subject. I don't know what for. Today, some person encountered me at the bike racks and asked to photograph me while I prepared myself for the ride home. Since I remove my front wheel for locking purposes and replace my cycling shoes with walking footwear upon arrival, the photographer had plenty of time to take plenty of shots while I reversed the routine. I then gave him my name and major for the following photograph caption:

"Bo London, biology senior, as he prepares for an epic indulgence in pain-cave spelunking. I was so fearful of his massive quads, not because of the size, but because of the intriguing beauty that arose from the harmony of veins, bulges, and stubble. The picture does him no justice. Once he began cycling away from campus, it was poetry in motion. He defined the phrase 'hate to see you leave, but love to watch you go' even though it is about as hokey as possible."

I offered the journalist a bit of editorial guidance on the caption, but he declined. After an awkwardly long and gentile handshake, he blushingly smiled at me and I was on my way home. I hope his editor likes his shots, because he asked if I could do some modeling for a future article.

Responsibilibuddies: It was bound to happen.

2010-10-04T15:55:00.004-05:00

My brother-in-law Daniel just alerted me to this news story:
http://www.dallasnews.com/sharedcontent/dws/dn/latestnews/stories/100410dnmetjogger.156702d91.html
It is about a jogger who died after being struck by a cyclist on the Katy Trail in Dallas.

This is a big deal. First of all, I have been rallying with other cyclists that I see trying to promote responsibility. Also, I am angry and curmudgeon-ous. I need to be mad t somebody, because the good name of cycling that I am trying to improve just took a major hit.

One big problem that cyclists are responsible for is a reputation for scofflaw actions and a misconceived sense of entitlement. A friend of mine was visiting last weekend and asked me what I am doing (or how I feel) about cyclists who pass through intersections without any consideration for the law. This activity also appears to outsiders as if the cyclists is not considering his or her own safety, either.

As it turns out, this is a situation where I agree with many car drivers. Cyclists should be held responsible for their safety and the safety of those around them (just like car drivers... and most other humans). This includes navigating intersections safely. Notice my choice of words there.

Safely navigating an intersection does not exclusively mean coming to a complete stop at a stop sign. Take for example, me. I tend to approach stop signs extremely slowly, but not so slow that I have to remove my feet from the pedals. I am generally traveling at a speed far below walking-pace and barely fast enough to keep balance. When my "turn" to go arrives, I am better prepared to pedal hard and get through the intersection quickly and safely. Also, by staying on the pedals, drivers who I encounter at the intersection are more likely to assume that I plan on cruising through all entitled-like. Although I do not plan on "cruising through", the predictions made by the drivers do make the situation safer for me; because the drivers are going to adjust their behavior and take my presence and actions into greater account when making their own decisions to navigate the intersection safely. If the guy in the truck thinks I am a crazy idiot with a death wish, I'll take it and be happy with the fact that he saw me before almost killing me.

That being said, I am completely prepared to stop and place my feet on the ground if the situation warrants said actions. I don't have a single blanket approach to stop signs. I tend to make a decision on case-by-case basis. There are some intersections that are always busy. I just stop and put a foot on the ground for those ones. There are other intersections along my regular routes where I am regularly the only person in sight. At those intersections, I slow down to about walking speed and proceed to "cruise". If I see a car, I behave as the preceding paragraph outlines.

If there is a red light, stop and wait for the light to change. There is only one exception to this rule: You have been stopped at the light for over a minute and it shows no signs of change... and also you are the only person in sight. If there are other cars around, proceed after your light turns green. If you haven't been there for a minute yet, wait a little longer. There is no reason to take a risk that will cause you to get a ticket or die. This is especially true for deciding whether to extend you bicycle ride by a minute or shorten your life by a few decades.

Pertaining to the aforementioned news story, I am not quite extremist enough to state that all cyclists should be vehicular cyclists. Vehicular cyclists are only interested in acting as if they were just another car on the road. A vehicular cyclist would state that the Katy trail is no place for a bike. I disagree. I would argue that the Katy trail is no place to take your race bike for a speedy workout, though. Children on bmx-bikes and adults on cruisers should be able to enjoy infrastructure systems like these. Roadies with an adrenaline addiction (read: me) should go ride fast on roads, where the children, elderly, and joggers tend to avoid.

I am making an assumption here, but I would be willing to bet that the cyclist was trying to execute an overtaking maneuver without slowing down at all (and riding very quickly all-the-while). Also, I am going to assume that said cyclist was too scared to ride on the roads, and too self-entitled to ride at a courteous velocity while on the shared-use path. I make this assumption because I have encountered the type before. I taxonomically classify this person as a "stuck-up pathie". It is like a "stuck-up roadie", however softer in all dimensions - and a slow wuss, generally speaking. And a mouth-breather. And hairy and fat. And wearing cycling-specific clothing that is really baggy, which defeats the purpose. And then some.

The moral of the story is: be safe. No strings, criteria, or qualifiers attached. Consider your own safety and that of others, because our society takes safety for granted way too often.

Fuel Shortage: What to do?

2010-09-29T20:29:00.003-05:00

Everybody has heard about the possibility that we will use up the planet's resources and cause the end of our race as we know it. At least, some people hypothesize that we will reach the earth's carrying capacity at some point. Lately, I have been doing my part to try to extend our fossil fuel issues by consuming organic fuels. By that, I mean I eat a lot of food and try to drive less frequently than I used to.

The fuel shortage I am referencing in the post title is not really to do with fossil fuels at all. I was just trying to fit in a cheap "Rocky and Bullwinkle" title pun. I am referencing the perpetual state of starvation the I experience. Consider this the first in a series of posts where I talk about eating food, and assign a tag "fuel".

Today, I worked out a bit. I rode 12 miles to school (no big deal) and another 12 home (I did intervals with a back-pack...I consider this difficult). I got home and ate a small sandwich before going to the track (running) workout for the Hill Country Triathlon Club (I don't actually DO triathlons... I can't bring myself to wear the requisite clothing). I was hungry when I got home, so I rode my bike past the fried chicken establishment on my way home. I discovered upon entering the parking lot that this location had gone out of business. So much for that idea, I guess I'll have to cook.

Tonight, I prepared the following meal from the scrapple left in my fridge. It is high time to go to the grocery store.

1 bratwurst, sliced into coins
2 eggs, whipped with a fork
some frozen waffle fries
a big dollop of gluten-free vegan buttery spread (without any real butter)

Cook brat and fries in a cast iron pan with the butter (or oil). Cover it, for it will splatter. Whip the eggs while this stuff cooks. Add eggs after the potatoes are thawed/cooked/whatever suits your preferences or time constraints. Add eggs. Flip when it is time to do so. Add blackening spice to taste. Remove from pan and add to your used unwashed plate from earlier. Consume with a cold Fat Tire Amber Ale and some Pace chunky salsa. Write a crappy post about it. Rant about how it was the best thing you could have eaten at that given point in time, with the singular exception of diarrhea-inducing fried chicken.

Oh yeah, the version that I made (with imprecisely measured waffle fry content) is probably close to 600 calories or so. This does not include the beer calories, which are "mulligans" according to my diet plan.

If you are a ovo-lacto vegetarian, you can substitute more fries and some cheese. Do not, for any reason, skip the blackening spice.

If you don't drink beer, I apologize for your loss. You see, I once had a problem with beer. I thought it was the source of all the evil in my small, sheltered life. I realized I was wrong and changed my misguided tee-totaling ways. I will also be posting from time to time about how I like to drink beers. This is extremely exciting for me right now, as I believe that in two days, it will be Oktober!!!!

Although I am not drinking it tonight, I highly recommend, first and foremost, that you all go purchase a 6er of Real Ale Oktoberfest. It is a proper German style, but from the Texas hills. If you are unaware, there are a lot of German bloodlines in the Texas Hills, so that actually makes more sense than you would initially predict. It goes down smooth, and is lovely after a big effort bike ride.

Just talking about the weather

2010-09-27T19:39:00.002-05:00

Some people are critical of those of us who like to talk about the weather. I can understand that it is all too easy to start a conversation with a stranger by mentioning the current weather conditions. It is too easy. It makes us sound more interested/-ing than we really are. Soon, talking about the weather will be the same as saying, "How are you?" as you walk past a stranger with no intention of listening to a response. I disagree.

There is a small part of me that has a closed mind and likes to make gross generalizations. This is actually a bigger part of me than I like to admit. Anyway, I would like to challenge that the critics of weather-speak are the types that go out of their way to avoid experiencing weather. By this, I mean the types of people that are most interested in spending their free time looking at an electronic display of some sort. I imagine this is also the same person that drives a car everywhere they go, and never opens the windows (beyond the drive-thru lane).

I am aware that I drive occasionally. I drive with the windows closed frequently. I go to drive-thru lanes once in a while. I enjoy watching entertaining things happen on electronic displays and screens. (That was my full disclosure clause.)

I talk about the weather because it affects me and interests me. I live my life in the weather. This week, I will be singing about the weather. Sunday night, a cool front rolled into town. The low temperature went down to the mid-50s (as opposed to summer, where it is common to see lows barely drop below 90F around these parts). The high today crested somewhere under 85F, meaning it was downright pleasant today, what with the cool northern breeze and all. The forecast for the rest of the week is similar.

That being said, my commute to school today was pleasing to me. I did not have to change out of disgusting undergarments upon arrival today. (I rode just before sunrise, at the coolest part of the day.) There was no suffering at all during my morning commute. This is a grave problem.

Cyclists - especially the variety that ride on the road, shave their legs, and watch races in Europe - like to romanticize the amount of suffering a cyclist can endure. Nike would have a field day trying to adapt the "no pain, no gain" to roadies. Without suffering, there would be no "hard men" and no "pain cave." Upon leaving campus this afternoon, I decided to rectify the situation by subjecting myself to the most rigorous bike ride I could eke out. I took to a high cadence pedaling style as I made my way to the city limits (going slow while pedaling fast is how we roadies like to warm up our legs for a hard effort). Upon leaving the last intersection of any consequence, I dropped the hammer. From this point on, it was an all-out effort. There was a decent headwind, and the terrain was rolling hills with an overall elevation gain by the time I got home.

I rode hard and got home tired. There was successful suffering, however I rarely can make it onto my own scale of hardness, and this situation applies to my inferiority. Maybe that ride could qualify me as the Michelin Man of cycling. Without puking or bleeding all over yourself, one cannot register on the cycling hardness scale in this weather.

You Big Softie

2010-09-12T20:49:00.002-05:00

So, one thing about cyclists is that we tend to romanticize the "hard men" of cycling. Don't confuse this with any gender bias; it is just the popular phrase to use. There are plenty of hard women in cycling. Let's get back to the point, though. Hardcore cycling fans want to be hardcore, because it is hard. Cyclists want hard muscles. Cyclists want hard helmets. Cyclists want hard carbon frames. Cyclists want to be hard. Mostly, cyclists just want to wax poetic about other people being hard, because (a) the truly hardened cyclists are pretty close to legend, (b) most cyclists are softies, and (c) bragging about your own hardness makes you sound silly… and soft.

I have decided it is time to jump onto the bandwagon and start talking about hard cyclists. Mostly, I have chosen to do this to describe some amazing people and situations while making a mockery of the whole ideology behind hard cycling. In order to talk about hard cyclists, I must first allude to some sort of inappropriate innuendo. I think that sentence pretty much sums that part up, since your imagination is far raunchier then my jokes about where the pros used to apply testosterone patches (and the side effects).

Second, I must come up with something uniquely mundane for establishing a hierarchy of cycling hardness. Maybe like some sort of hardness scale. I'm pretty sure nobody has ever conceived a hardness scale. At least not more than one variant. I have to make it unique, so it can't be on a 1-10 scale. It can't be cliché to anything in popular culture, like making it "go to eleven", because we are cyclists. Cyclists are not popular in this country, that would be inappropriate. I think making a scale that goes to 3 would be about right. This leaves appropriately small gray area. For fun, and to make our scale cliché to cyclists, our categories will go in reverse order, with lower numbers indicating more hardness. Cyclists use category 5 to refer to slow racers (like me) and categories 4, 3, 2, and 1 to describe the racers that leave me in the dust regularly. Cyclists also use an inverse categorical relationship to describe the difficulty of a climb in a race, often only using 3, 2, and 1. Sometimes, only two categories are used for climbs. In both aforementioned categories, there are exceptions made for racers so fast and climbs so difficult that they defy categorization. For racers, that is called "pro". For uphill climbs, the French have cornered the market with the phrase "hors categorie", which means "beyond categorization… do not come to France and try this if you are a silly American. We think you are all too fat and slow for our mountains. Also, stop mis-pronouncing our language, and stop referring to us as frogs. It is insensitive." As such, I am going to have a category of hardness beyond categorization called "Category reserved for Jens Voigt and his glory, or anyone who may give a valiant attempt to channel a small fraction of the diamond-producing hardness that only Jens Voigt posseses," or JVC for short. It has nothing to do with cheap electronics, though.

In summary, there will be the following hardness values:

C3H: Barely hard enough to make the scale. This ranking is more akin to a gumball than true hardness. At first, you think it is hard, but with a tiny bit more pressure it will collapse. Chances are, you have only even attained this level three times in your entire life. A popular-culture reference to this level of hardness would be mixed martial artists, and guys who make other guys into their girlfriends in prison. Pretty scary, but not really all that impressive. This level is occupied by fewer than half of the pro peloton.

C2H: Admirably hard. Making it to this level is something to brag about, but only for about a week. After that, you are annoying. No, you have never been here before. Popular culture equivalents would be standard war heroes and Olympic gold medalists. This level is also occupied by a little less than half of the pro peloton.

C1H: Diamond hard. This is a steeply sloped scale. Situations that reach the 1H level don't need to be retold by the cyclists in the story, since their friends (and newspapers and websites) will spread the news. Popular culture equivalents to this category would be Hurricane Katrina, an F5 tornado, and Zeus.

JVC: Jens Voigt is so hard that blinking his eyelids would create diamonds from his tears if he had ever cried. You have never met anybody that has attained this category. The feats are otherworldly and seem mythical. Jens Voigt haunts Chuck Norris's nightmares.

Usually, cycling hardness is attained by self-inflicted pain. For example, I was riding in a time trial once and I puked in my mouth a little. I swallowed it and started riding harder, since I hadn't been going hard enough to actually get the vomit outside my mouth. One other time, I was climbing a hill and my thighs cramped so badly that my legs locked out in hyperextension. I had to use my arms to bend my knees. I only cried a little. That pretty much merits me to category 4, if there was one. Since there is no category four, I am just a big marshmallow.

Now spend the next 20 minutes watching the two following video links, so you can become familiar with how much Jens Voigt is willing to suffer on a bike.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t-SH05G7vAs

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a4NSZa9X1jg&feature=related

Low Water Crossings

2010-09-09T16:37:00.004-05:00

Life is full of decisions. Think of your past decisions. Think of your worst decisions - the ones that force you to question your own perceived intelligence. Monumentally bad decisions are just going to happen. It is how people learn in this topsy-turvy society we have built. Since extreme adjectives need extreme criteria, we will assume you are imagining that your monumentally bad decision is life-threatening. Not in an "I could slip in the bathtub" kind of life threatening, but a "how am I going to survive this" kind of life threatening.

As you may or may not know, there was some kind of hurricane or tropical storm in the gulf. It hit Mexico, so there was less "primetime" news about it until the storm bands came into Texas. These storms brought plenty of rain into central Texas. By plenty, I mean plenty. I live in an area that is on the very fringes of the hill country. In this area, the population is growing, but traffic levels have not yet become big enough that major infrastructure is a concern outside of cities (and highways). As such, there are plenty of low water crossings at the many river-road intersections. Most of the year, the water is below the road surface, and the crossings are dry. After mega-storms, the water levels rise above the road surface and the authorities close gates at the crossings. The beauty of the bicycle is that it can circumvent a gate that is designed for a car.

These factors allow for cyclists in my area to become better bike handlers by practicing their water crossing navigation skills. You just ride through it, since the water rarely rises to the point that the closed gate is a legitimate signal to find another route. Today, I rode along my familiar route No. 1 to school. To anyone familiar with the area, this is Old Stagecoach Road and Post Road. There is a crossing on Post Road where it crosses the Blanco River. I circumnavigated the gate, gently approached the water and assessed the flow rate (it looked fast but not too high), and proceeded in a straight line with smooth constant pedaling. The turtle moved out of the way for me. I made it through, but the water was higher than I expected … like 9-11 inches deep and mildly rushing. I should have paid attention to the dislocated flood gauge and changed paths, but I made it across.

Coming home, I decided to avoid that crossing and take route No. 2. I rode across San Marcos to the east side of I-35 and intended to take Uhland Road to Harris Hill Road to Yarrington Road (Pronounced Yaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrington). There is a crossing (with the Blanco again) on Uhland Road. I was surprised to see it, since I did not think to remember it when I hatched my scheme to avoid the low crossings by coming this way. The river was high as well, and a bit wider. It looked a little bit sketchier, too. As I proceeded around the gate, I thought to myself, "I made it across the first one, I can make it across this one."

That was my monumentally bad decision. It never occurred to me that the gate was closed to keep bikes out. I just thought it was for stupid cars (with their inferior water-handling skills).

I got about 10% of the way across when I sensed something different. My bike was starting to drift downstream along the road surface. I steered a tiny bit into the direction of flow to keep my line across the water and made it about another six feet before the wheels started to wash out from under me. By wheels, I mean the whole bike. I dismounted hastily and got one foot on the road surface. I almost fell. The water was knee deep and pulling me toward the edge of the road surface (into the river major). As I shifted more weight off of the bike and onto my foot, the bike started to sweep away. I unclipped my other foot from the pedal and held on tight as the bike was pulled out from under my leg. I now had two feet on the road surface. The drag that the water imposed on the bike was pulling me to the edge of the road still, so I had to pick up the bike.

Remember that through all of this, I was wearing silly cycling shoes with hard, stiff plastic soles. Mine, particularly, have no rubber anywhere on the shoe for traction. There is no traction when walking on dry cement in these shoes, let alone in rushing knee-deep water.

So anyway, at that point I was holding my bike on my shoulder. I tried situating it back against the road surface in a few orientations with ill effect. Even with the bike out of the water, I was still being dragged towards the concrete edge at a torturously slow rate. It was really like torture. I began to question my decision, and my intelligence. At some point, my awkward slide ceased, probably due to a texture (ridge?) on the concrete beneath my feet. I spent five minutes pondering my situation.

It was literally five minutes, not because I timed myself, but because it actually felt like a half hour or more. I devised almost fifty exit strategies and quickly disposed of all but a select few.

First, I could let the bike go and save myself. I seriously considered this, but ultimately decided that I love my bikes as I would my own offspring, and would end up going in after it if I saw it taken down the river. This equally dispensed of the idea of going for a swim with my bike and backpack, just to come out somewhere calmer downstream (wherever that may be).

Second, I could try to take my shoes off for more traction. That wouldn't work, because I could not bend down to unfasten them without dipping the bike in the water and getting swept away.

Third, I could try to take a step upstream and regain the ground I lost in my struggle to dismount. This would increase my margin of safety by about eight inches. I tried this. Shifting all my weight to one foot, I realized that I had less drag in the water on only one leg. Holding my other foot above the water increased my stability, as long as I maintained my balance. I placed my foot back down and then brought my other foot up a step. I decided to risk the added drag against my balance on circus shoes.

Fourth, now that I had determined that walking in this was marginally feasible, I had to decide on a direction to walk. I could continue pressing through the crossing. At this point I was about 25-30% across (leaving 70-75% to go). The part ahead of me looked even deeper and faster-flowing than the part I had already traversed. My other option was to go back the way I came, squashing all my progress so far. I took two steps toward the other side of the road, very gingerly. That was monumental mistake number two, ladies and gentlemen. What was I thinking? My self-preservation instincts were beaten by my stubborn lust to beat the river. Plus, I wanted to check out the new pavement on Harris Hill Road. As I began another torturous slide, I decided that going back the way I came would be best. By this point, my perception was that the rest of the water crossing was assured drowning and possible impalement. Going back was only a very high risk of drowning and impalement. I would go back then.

One step at a time, I slid less against the road surface. The water was getting calmer and shallower. Putting my foot down on each step gave the uneasy sensation that I would lose my footing and go downstream, but I eventually prepared myself for the rushing water before plunging my foot through it. It was an eternity, and by that I mean it was a minute or two. I got to the dry road surface eventually and took about 300 deep breaths to calm myself.

Time for another decision:

Do I go back to the west side of the highway and take Post Road? This would undo any progress I made by riding over here in the first place, and also expose me to another water crossing (albeit an easier - read: passable - one).

Do I go over to the highway and ride the access road until I get across the raging Blanco River? This would expose me to countless high speed "sport utility missiles."

Highway it is. I imagined myself being swept off of the road at the Post Road crossing only to find myself back at the Uhland Road crossing, only wetter, bludgeoned and bikeless. I got home safely.

Activate!

2010-08-26T11:31:00.003-05:00

Now is the time for some political activism. As you may know, I am a cyclist. More specifically, I am one of those types of cyclists that likes to use the roads the same way a car driver likes to use the roads. Roads are a useful way to go places. I use them to get to school, one of my jobs, the grocery store, my favorite Mexican restaurant, and many more places on a bike. I also use the roads for recreation, because I am a cycling enthusiast. Just like a car enthusiast enjoys a drive in his or her sporty convertible, I enjoy a ride on my sporty bicycle (which, by the way, has superior "wind in the hair" sensations to a convertible). Just as car enthusiasts like to organize events where groups of car owners drive to a location together (my old Miata club does just that for barbecue runs on Saturdays), groups of bike owners like to ride together. Sometimes, we even arrive at a barbecue eatery upon completion of our bike rides.

I gave that long and boring soliloquy to get to this point. A small city in the Metroplex called Bartonville has passed a city ordinance requiring any group of cyclists numbering greater than nine to register for a permit to ride within city limits. In other words, in order to have a bike ride, you gotta pay for a permit and police escort, just as if you were closing roads for a bicycle race. Here is a link to sign a petition that will argue against this ordinance. I signed it.

I understand that large group rides require space. I also understand that bicycles tend to travel slower than cars. These two factors tend to make a large group ride burdensome to vehicle operators in a hurry, since it is harder to overtake a large group of cyclists than a small group (or an individual). I am also aware that there are individuals who participate in group rides and ignore traffic laws. Specifically, they ignore the traffic laws regarding stop signs. These two problems are usually the extent of the immediate problems exclusive to large group rides.

I would argue that nobody who drives in the Metroplex regularly is allowed to make the "lawbreaker" argument, since the flow of traffic on any highway in the Metroplex is regularly 10 mph over the posted speed limit. Actually, when growing up in the Metroplex, it was taught to me that cops won't bother ticketing me if I maintained about 7 mph over (just watch out when you get to 10 over). My father continues to live and drive in the Dallas area and maintains that speeding does not make for unsafe roads. He argues that unsafe roads (specifically multi-lane highways) are caused by all traffic lanes traveling at the same speed. He argues for a speed gradient between lanes, to encourage safe passing, and nobody lingering in "blind spots." This is the way Dallas drivers think.

I think the ordinance requiring group rides to obtain a race permit should be revoked, and I recommend everyone who reads this post go click the link I posted above and sign the petition. It would be unfair to singly regulate a group of road users without regulating all groups of road users.

Cycling Chivalry

2010-08-17T09:54:00.006-05:00

The other day, I was at the running practice for the Hill Country Triathlon Club (I am not a triathlete, but I like to work out with good people), when the conversation topic drifted to the previous bike clinic. I co-lead the bike workouts during the summer, along with a bike-only racer friend of mine. The particular event in question only had one other person in attendance. She is a runner from NCAA Division 1 glory and is currently a sponsored competitive runner. Let's just say that I feel inadequate as a runner when I see this person run. She (let's call her "Speedy") seems to feel the same about biking with me and my racer friend (let's call him My Only Friend In the Neighborhood, or MOFIN, pronounced similar to muffin).

It would be useful to preface this story with a bit of background. Mofin is proud of his expansive cycling knowledge, which is to say that he loves to share his wisdom. Often, he offers unsolicited help. He thinks of himself as a shepherd, somebody who is willing to go up to a perfect stranger and offer the assistance of his wisdom. He is also a FAST and aggressive rider.

Mofin likes to tell you everything you are doing wrong on a bike.

Speedy is a pure athelete. She is driven, determined and fit. She can outrun elite runners. She is a specialist that uses cycling as an infrequent cross-training technique. Her knowledge set and equipment set for biking are perfectly adequate for her intended applications.

So we set out on the ride, just the three of us. Our plan is to ride easy for five to seven miles, do some intervals, then ride home easy for a cool-down. Mofin goes to the front and sets the pace. Out of habit, I slide behind Speedy so she can take Mofin's wheel. With me in the back, there is no way Speedy gets dropped by the group.

Tip 1: Take the wheel.
Mofin starts the ride at his regular warm-up pace. On a scale of percent of effort (with 100% = puking, heart attack pace, and 85% = hard ride), he goes to about 45-50%. On Speedy's scale, this is closer to 80-85%. She isn't quite turning herself inside out, but there won't be a lot left for intervals if we keep this pace. Mofin turns into a headwind. Speedy is not yet comfortable with the draft, so she doesn't take the wheel.

After making her pretty tired, Mofin slows to alow us to catch back on. You see, he had dropped us a while back. I slide into the front and set a slower pace while he offers lesson one: drafting.

"You need to get right behind the wheel of the bike in front of you. If there is any crosswind, stagger the line to take advantage of the draft. Never overlap wheels, because a swirving rider will crash you; unless you know the rider well and are confident he/she won't swerve."

Speedy relates that she has never had any luck in a draft. Mofin assures her that without the draft, she is wasting about 30% of her energy. He's probably right, but it is an easier point to make with a group of fast riders in a paceline, rather than a threesome crawling along for a warmup.

Mofin goes back to the front to set pace again, and winds it up a bit at the base of a tame hill. Speedy can't hold the wheel on the hill, and we are dropped again. It wasn't a wind problem, just a hill + pace issue. Speedy just isn't at the level quite yet. I calmly place my hand on her back and push her to the top. We make a joke about how Mofin just instructed her to stay close to him, then dropped us. When I get Speedy caught up, Mofin comments that she shouldn't have dropped the wheel and would have had an easier time if she had slid into his slipstream. From here, there was a 5- or 10-minute lecture on the various applications of drafting techniques.

Tip 2: Your intervals are too short.
We get to the set of roads where we had previously had interval workouts. In past interval workouts, Mofin had other engagements, so I coached the rides alone. I set the course up for extremely short intervals, since the riders in this workout group are usually not bike racers. They don't have the power or endurance to benefit from a 5- to 10-minute interval. Such a routine would just hurt. I also set up the recovery to be a little longer than most interval workouts would normally be, for the same reason. Lastly, I set up the workout to be distance-based, since it allows me to use a loop where riders can check on each other and regroup easily along a short loop. Mofin wants the intervals to be longer and the recoveries to be shorter. Luckily, the three riders in attendance this day were at appropriate cardio-vascular fitness to oblige. I (not so much Speedy) received a three- to five-minute lecture on how an interval workout is supposed to be set up.

Tip 3: Bike set-up.
After one of the intervals, Speedy comments on her speed relative to mine and Mofin's. Honestly, this is entirely due to specialization. I cycle daily. So Does Mofin. Speedy runs daily and cycles once every week or two. I can't run as fast as Speedy for the same reason she can't bike as fast as me.

Mofin begins to lecture on bike fit and part selection. I will paraphrase:

For starters, you have a heavy bike. The metal frame is heavy, the triple chainring crankset is heavy, the spoke protector is heavy, and the stem is a boat anchor. Nobody uses triple chainrings anyway. The smallest one is worthless. (Speedy clarifies that she bought the bike in Colorado, where she rode in the mountains) OK, I guess a triple would make more sense if you were getting started with cycling in the mountains. Bike fit is more important around here, anyways, since the hills are less extreme than mountians. You would go faster if you raised your seat, dropped your stem (it was a stem that had adjustable rise), and tucked in harder. You are too tall in the wind. You have too much frontal surface area for drag. You should swap that stem for a lighter, non-adjustable one, and install it inverted without spacers. That would make your bike lighter and you more aero. With your seat at that hight, you limit your power and will fatigue faster. You should raise it about 5-8mm. While we are on the subject of your bike's many faults, your computer is on the wrong side of the bars. If you moved it over here, the screen would be in the middle of the handlebars, centered over the stem. It just makes it look right. You should get another bottle cage, so you can carry water on the bike instead of wearing a camelback. Roadies don't wear camelbacks, because it doesn't look right. Also, you can't dump water on your head from a camelback. That is what you have to do to keep cool in the summer, and why you need to carry bottles. Your socks are too short. They look like running socks. Why doesn't your jersey have sleeves, or bigger pockets on the back? Those shorts are really short - what are they, triathlon shorts?

Mofin, again, is completely right about all of this. The bike set-up changes would make her bike lighter and her position more aero-efficient. In the end, though, Speedy would increase her speed the most by being comfortable enough to ride more. Riding more would help her speed more than a new bike fit.

We ended up adjusting her seat height a little bit on the spot. I think it helped.

Tip 4 (my favorite of all time): Panties are for Noobs.
After the interval session, we are casually making our way back toward the neighborhood. Mofin asks, "Do those shorts have a chamois?"

Speedy responds, "Huh?"

"A chamois; do your shorts have a pad in the backside?"

"Yes."

"You would be more comfortable if you didn't wear your panties under them."

"Uhh, OK. (?)"

I wholeheartedly aggree that cycling shorts should not be worn with undies. They are designed to be worn against the skin. Also, as a cycling fashion tip, all underwear lines are visible under cycling shorts. This rule includes underwear that is suposed to be "no show". Mofin gave the obligatory lecture about why not to wear your panties under your shorts. (Health and comfort reasons, for those not in the know. I'll let you Google it yourselves). It was weird.

I am happy to give this advice to my own wife. I have before. Mofin has given this advice to his wife. He has also given it to various women that we have ridden with in the past. Once, I witnessed him tell another man that his wife needed to stop wearing her panties under her cycling shorts. I never laugh loudly enough to be heard, but I always laugh. In fact, I am laughing as I type this.

At the running practice the following week, Speedy was recapping some of the fun we had on that ride. She mostly commented on the fact that she hopes to never get stuck in a group ride with only her, me and Mofin ever again. Mostly, it was the pace that caused this sentiment. Hard-riding bikers can have an intimidating pace for newcomers and recreational riders. It can seem exclusive. Speedy then commented to my wife that I was a perfect gentleman, waiting for her, pushing her up the hills, and not trying to increase the pace. Speedy and I had ridden together before. She commented that I am always happy to ride at whatever pace the group wants, without trying to push any faster.

Mofin started a conversation with me the previous day about wanting to start a group ride where the fast guys come out. He is OK with the idea of a "B" group forming, as long as he (and the fast guys) can train hard. He didn't sound too interested in conducting too many more ride clinics for less-serious cyclists. He would prefer if our regular group from the local (New Braunfels) races would make the drive to Kyle for a weekly ride.

I am OK with Mofin's idea. It wil protect the less-experienced and less-committed riders from feeling intimidated by a couple of guys pushing the pace. I didn't tell him that I would like to see a weekly ride form where the pace is less intimidating and more comfortable for more people. I'm trying to spread my disease. Mofin is (unintentionally) trying to quarrantine it. I'll be attending the fast rides, but trying to organize the slow ones. Maybe I will begin to cultivate an "A" group out of this ride, graduating from my easy group to Mofin's fast group.

Beating of the chests: A ritualistic display

2010-08-09T18:19:00.001-05:00

Everyone has seen the movie King Kong. Well, I haven't, and you may not have either, but it is probable that we have all seen clips from the movie. Maybe, I should have indicated that we are all familiar with the movie Congo. Is that better?

Regardless of the movie, if there is a giant angry gorilla, there is a scene where gratuitous chest beating dominates the shot. Gorillas and other great apes allegedly use this action as a display of dominance or aggression. Gorillas have complex social behaviors that have been studied deeply, to help humans understand the motives of our distant relatives and thusly our own.

Other animals with complex social patterns have similar "chest-beating" displays. Take our canine friends, for instance. Dogs and wolves bare their teeth and snarl to display aggression and dominance. Kitty cats like to arch their backs and puff their fur out. Frogs pee on your hand. All of these activities are the product of a society of complex creatures where some hierarchy must be established in the community.

Here's the thing about complex social creatures: the social behaviors of such populations are...complicated.

Aside from two of my three readers (and possibly myself), we can all comprehend these concepts best if we choose to discuss human behavior from here on out. Humans have plenty of variants on the practice of chest beating. The specific display chosen is dependent on a variety of variables, such as: social history, setting, seriousness, gender, number of recipients, number of messengers, whether or not there are goats or cougars involved, sexual motivation, genital size, truck size, truck-mounted genital size, aggressor/protector status, and number of gears on the bicycle. Honestly, this is only the tip of the iceberg as far as variables effecting human behavior go.

So, lets run through a couple of scenarios and have a laugh while we dissect this relatively undissectable human social behavior. Generally, the best place to observe human social interactions is at a place where multiple humans will be interacting. I prefer to observe from my highly protected eagle's view atop my bicycle seat whilst maneuvering through the city and country roads of the Texas Hill Country.

CB1: Tail-Gate

Tail-gating is a term used to describe a driving tactic where your NASCAR follows Ricky Bobby's just close enough to cheat the wind. In real life, this is a demonstration in vehicular proximity minimalization. Tail-gating is chest beating in that it is intimidating to the tail-gate-ee. This is amplified by the likelihood of the tail-gater to be operating a large diesel pickup (complete with dually rear wheels, smoke stacks, and testicle-style ornamentation under the rear bumper).

CB2: Buzzards

Don't let the name be a misnomer. Buzzards do not stalk you until you collapse, then peck you to death. They buzz you. I know that right now you are trying to put together, using all of the context clues you have, a definition for "buzz" as I am referencing. Let's cover it.

In the movie Top Gun, Maverick requests to buzz the tower and is denied. Maverick and Goose then decide it is best to follow through with a buzz maneuver regardless. They fly the jet in very close proximity to the flight control tower at a high rate of travel, causing the authoritative figure in said tower to become startled. The subsequent result is a spilled beverage and possibly soiled under-garments. (The debate still rages on that one).

In my world, buzzing is an action a driver takes whereby passing another road user (namely, the cyclist: me) at a high rate of travel and close proximity. Surely, the driver is hoping that I spill my beverage and soil my under-garments. The debate still rages on whether or not that is where the stain is from, but that is neither here nor there. This activity is just like the other chest-beating maneuvers, in that the intended result is intimidation. Specifically passive-aggressive intimidation. It works, believe me.

A slight variation of this is the guy who gets beside you and then eases toward you, forcing a cyclist off the road (unless there is a curb). This is terrifying.

CB3: Flagrant Gesturing

This activity is most similar to actually beating your chest. Furthermore, it is a rare crossover activity that both cyclists and drivers like to use as forms of intimidation. Use your imagination to come up with what could fall into this category. Below are some of examples of gesturing, in varying degrees of specificity:

#1: "You're number one" wave. I will not go into further detail.

ICAM: The "I am confused and mad" shrug. This one deserves more detail. A driver passing a cyclist will often use the ICAM after initiating the interaction with a horn honk. Then the driver begins to suffer a seizure while passing the cyclist. As the cyclist looks into the side window of the car passing him, he sees a driver that is executing a strange movement with his or her hands and shoulders. Dedicated and experienced ICAM-ers will also incorporate a neck and head movement. This can only be interpreted as: "I am confused about the fact that you are not in a car and going at least 12 MPH over the speed limit. I am also mad that you are on a bike, saving gas, congestion and road wear, which will benefit us car drivers. I am furthermore infuriated by the fact that I am too fat, lazy and passive to convince myself to participate in cycling for transportation or exercise."

GTFO: My personal favorite is a directive variety. The driver will give an intimidating glare in conjunction with an assertive pointing motion towards the side of the road. It is clear that the driver wishes for the cyclist to abandon his right to safe passage and use of the public roadways, and instead resort to using the shoulder, ditch or sideWALK. Sometimes drivers like to tell me that sidewalks are safer for cyclists. I'll let you research that yourself, but if you are not interested in sorting through all the data, here's the summary: a vast majority of cyclist deaths involving a car occur when the cyclist is using the sidewalk or extreme edge of the roadway. When you are "in the line of sight" you are safer. Drivers think that "in the line of sight" is "in the way" - thus the pointing motion.

CB4: Milkshaking

I have some traumatic experiences with milkshaking. It is the source of a lot of my angst towards fat, McDonald's-frequenting drivers. This chest-beating action consists of launching a projectile from an open window towards a cyclist. As a cyclist, this is frustrating and humiliating, not to mention terrifyingly dangerous. I have received the milkshake and the soda cup. I have been a near-miss victim of more than one glass beer bottle (only ever cheap American lagers). A cyclist in Austin once received a pellet gun attack that penetrated his skin (officially a GSW at the emergency room). There have been reports of many other projectiles being thrown at cyclists. This is the only chest-beating maneuver that nets a police reaction in the cyclist's favor...sometimes.

Well, it has taken me four different sittings to get this far along in this post, so I give up. It is not polished very well, but I am ready to try talking about something else. Chime in with your experiences about chest-beating drivers.

Beating Chests

2010-08-05T20:34:00.003-05:00

Blogger has decided that my newly published post should be archived on the date I began typing it, rather than on the day I published it.

So here it is.

Update: this post is now useless. I was given the appropriate instructions from my sister on how to be slightly more literate in the bloggoverse than previously.

Lucky Spoke Pro Bike Service

2010-08-03T08:16:00.002-05:00

I have added a link to my page that takes you to the homepage for my favorite local bike service: The Lucky Spoke. Ramsey is a great mechanic that will make any bike work better than before. He also builds bikes custom, if you are in the market for a new one. If you are in the Hillcountry, Austin, or San Antonio area; give him a call. You will receive some serious bang for your buck.

www.luckyspoke.com

Cyclists love to hate the weather

2010-07-28T15:53:00.005-05:00

Last summer, Central Texas experienced a weather phenomenon that I like to refer to as "the surface of the sun is upon us," whereby the temperature is high for a long time and it does not rain. I would ride about 150 to 200 miles a week. The times that I rode were such that the average temperatures during those rides stayed in the high 90s. Sure, I rode above 100. I also rode when it was a frigid 91. I like my figure for average temperature.

During last summer, I was drinking so much water that my stomach felt ill before I was quenched. I would go through over a liter of water in a one-hour bike ride. I would get home and turn the shower on the coldest setting. It was never cool enough to stop me from sweating.

I loved telling people about how I overcame the adverse conditions to ride my bike. It was a badge of honor. I would complain about the heat. I would complain about the parched mouth and dehydration. I always mentioned my low volume of urine that was a concentrated yellow color. I often made it very clear to the people around me when I was completely beaten from all those high-temperature miles.

This summer has given me mild temperatures. It is still hot by most standards, but I'm a Texan. Hot starts at 95 Fahrenheit. I have a lot less to complain about. There is less for me to love to hate.

But wait - it is raining more this summer. Last year, I didn't have to mow my lawn all summer. It was so hot and dry that the grass just died in late June and the lawn stayed dead until October or November. This year my lawn is green. I can complain about the rain. I love to hate the rain. People find out that I ride a bike and ask, "What do you do when it rains?" I get to tell them that I ride regardless. (This is mostly true, but I have been known to drive somewhere instead of bike during times of extreme downpours.)

In school today, I was telling people how cold my wet feet were. I used my mind melt trick on the computer lab attendant to get him to go change the thermostat setting on the A/C controller. I walked into the class and dripped on the floor. I left a puddle in my chair. I was proud and happy, because I love to hate the rain. I have class at the top of a hill. Today, my tire slipped at every pedal stroke due to the slick wet roads (and extreme steepness of that hill, the quintessential love-to-hate item in cycling). Going home today, I will have to grit my teeth and squint my eyes, battling the San Marcos rush hour in a drizzly shower thing. I'll tell someone about it tonight. I'll probably repeat it to a few more people through the week.

In the winter, I love to hate the cold. In the fall, I love to hate the wet leaves that cover the edges of the roads. I really don't hate any of it. Nervousness about the higher level of risk aside, riding a bike in a summer shower is actually quite enjoyable. You don't get cold while on the bike. You don't get overly sweaty. You can aim for puddles and splash. Riding in the winter is serene. I'd go as far as to claim that winter offers me the most sublime, calming exercise I have ever experienced.

If someone asks though, I will tell you it sucks a little, but not enough to get me off my bike. It makes me feel like I am a role model. Someone who can do something that other people refuse to convince themselves they are capable of doing. I just want to be special.

Stay tuned for more posts on "love to hate" this will become the first title that I actually use the tag system appropriately for.

Professional bike racers, like fine wine and women, only get better with age.

2010-07-08T09:25:00.002-05:00

PreScript: If you write about bikes and don't mention Le Tour this week, you are just as cliché as the rest of us who do.

As both of my readers surely know, Le Tour is upon us. In fact, it is going to kick off in only 2 long days. How do I know that all of my readers know this? I mentioned it at dinner last week. Also, you may (not) be wondering why I no longer refer to my three readers? Leinad, you will be sorely missed. Have a plate of heavenly spaghetti for me.

One thing is important to know, though. This year, many of the biggest, hardest-hitting pro-tour teams are bringing the more "experienced" riders to the tour this year. I will thusly refer to the 2010 Tour de France as "Le Geritol Race". Let's go through what I mean exactly:

Astana is bringing their young whippersnapper hot shoe, Alberto Contador to the race. At 27 years old, he is the youngest person I intend to mention. His back-up at the race is who we are interested in today: Alexandre Vinokourov. At 36 years old, Vino is no spring chicken. He will be riding as captain of the support team for Contador; and looking to pick up any opportunity for AC to flounder, so he can pick up the leftovers and ride his own race.

BMC is bringing Cadel Evns, the current World Champion road racer. Cuddles, as some people like to call him for his prickly press attitude, is ripening at 33. Like a banana, he is hitting his prime at just the right age to be on this list, and might still be good to eat in a few more days, but they are limited. George Hincapie, male model who began bike racing when he became too old for the camera, is also coming on BMC's TDF team. Big George is 37, and is also the defending US road racing national champion.

The single team at the tour with the largest budget for Depends Diapers, though, is Radio Shack. Firstly, they are the team that was conceived by Lance Armstrong. LA is 38 now, and the world of press is questioning his bid to be an 8-time champion of Le Tour, because he is old. Interestingly, the two guys in line to take his position of his hip breaks are just as old: Levi Leipheimer is 36, and second in line. Chris Horner, third in line, is 38. Andreas Kloden, long-time aid to Armstrong, is 35. Dimitry Murajev is 30, as are
Sergio Miguel Moreira Paulinho, Grégory Rast, and Yaroslav Popovych. There is only one rider on team Radio Shack that is under 30 years old, Janez Brajkovic at 26. This team is generally considered the most powerful team in the race this year. At the very top of professional cycling, where body composition is in the 2-4% body fat range and resting heart rates are in the high 40s and low 50s, the strongest team in the race averages 35.89 years old.

Let's not forget that the recently crowned women's French national champion is 51. She has been winning consistently since 1979. People need to stop saying that age can be a crippling performance factor.

Out of Shape... Wait, that just means I'm in a different shape!

2010-06-16T21:15:00.003-05:00

I have begun attending classes for the summer. Physics, specifically. Yesterday, as I sat in the classroom prior to the beginning of lecture, a girl walked in looking... exhausted. The university I attend occupies a pretty hilly area, and it is not unusual to encounter tired people traversing the many steps and slopes acros campus. I am piously snobby about whatever level of tiredness I have when I am there. Mostly, this is a misguided sense of self-righteousness resulting from my 12 mile trip in that finished with a 200ft climb over a rather short .3-.5 miles ( I have not actually measured this, and the previous statement may have questionable accuracy). The point is: I am usually not made tired by walking around TX State, hurried pace omitted. The aforementioned girl plopped down in the seat behind me and initiated a conversation with somebody behind me by saying "I just had to hike back to my car because I forgot something. I am out of shape!"

I am a jerk, but only on the inside - that is, when my brain-to-mouth filter is properly operating. My internal reaction to her comment was "Well, yeah. You are about 100 pounds overweight. Oh wait, this is physics class. You are like 45.4545 Kg overweight. That is like 445.45 Newtons." I made the assumption that she had parked in one of the closer parking lots to the physics building. That is not a terribly long or hilly hike. It is, however, enough to leave you tired if you were to rush your pace into "power-walk" mode.

My filter was working that day. Also, I am so terribly shy that I only communicate with anybody through anonymous online messages. My wife hates email intercourse, but I have a complex. Anyway, I kept my thoughts inside and let them wander:

What is "in shape". I would make the same comments about my own fitness. That girl may disagree that my fitness level qualifies as "out of shape", but I get left in the dust at races and group rides regularly. Maybe my shapeliness is a comparison-based measurement. I mean without a yardstick, how am I to know how long my...

...toenails are.

The professor of my class is Overweight by a larger margin than either I or the girl behind me. Maybe, the professor looks at that girl and thinks "I'm out of shape". Maybe the professor looks at her giant SUV and thinks, "I got a little room to grow, I mean I'm only like 250 lbs (1113.636 Newtons) overweight." I'm not in her brain.

There is another student in my class that is probably at about 7% body fat. Maybe less. He is all veins and muscle... you know, the weight-room / football type. While a cyclists commitment to sport can be gauged by his willingness to shave his legs, the bodybuilder's commitment to sport can be measured by his willingness to shave his forearms. This guy is a shaver. Does he look at Mr. Universe competitors and think his shape is sub-par? Maybe he only looks at the meat-head next-door at the bench-press station for comparison.

Outside of the classroom, there are people in my exercise group (a triathlon club - don't ask) who don't look like much without a shirt on, but manage to perform well at the workouts.

Is there one arbitrary value to apply to "in shape" or "out of shape"? Does shapliness vary among different goal-seeking people? Are there any people who are not elite-level athletes that think they are in shape, or does everyone think they are out of shape?

The moral of the story is to go to Pandora.com and create a radio station for "seasick steve" and "the black keys". Billi also likes the station for "the raconteurs". I have always stood by my station for "sublime" when you want a lot of variety without a lot of customization.

Oil!!!!!!

2010-06-06T18:57:00.002-05:00

So, I am comfortable with being that guy who is interpreted as an environmentalist. In the bigger picture, I am probably less extreme than people who call themselves environmentalists. I try not to drive unless it is necessary. I try to recycle whatever my local authorities will allow for. I choose to purchase foods with comparatively less packaging, when given the option. I just kinda care that this planet is fragile and responsive to how humans interact with it. As a result, I am highly interested in the great oil debacle 2010.

I very much would like to see an end to the oil leak that is polluting the Gulf of Mexico right now. I am stumped as to why it has been so hard to seal the well. I know that the depth involved here is uncharted territory, but it seems that having a proven safety measure that has been tested at the intended depths would be a prerequisite to drilling at those depths. I am sure that the FAA would not allow a plane to fly until the landing gear has been tested thoroughly. I have an interpretation as to why the pipes haven't been sealed yet, though: money.

The oil companies involved know that as soon as this well is sealed, it will stay that way. I am convinced that the government (despite contrary arguments in the media) is interested in making sure that this is not repeated. This particular well is associated with a substantial pocket of oil. Once the well is sealed, future attempts to access this particular oil pocket will be squashed. The companies involved think that the oil is rightfully theirs, so they should be able to collect it for refinement and sale. I think that the damage this spill is causing is too much. Allowing it to go on any further would be criminal. The fact that it ever occurred at all is criminal. Each day should have one goal: plug the hole permanently.

It is important in life to look at opportunities. There is always a little nugget of light buried in every situation. Regulation will follow. I hope the regulation is revolutionary, all-encompassing, and strictly enforced. I also envision more open-mindedness in U.S. political leaders for wind and solar energy plans. A solar farm in the barren west-Texas desert mated with a high-tech storage and distribution infrastructure would provide more electricity than the Hoover Dam. Maybe (this is a stretch) politicians will re-evaluate transportation solutions that exclude the automobile as the central factor. I propose bicycles, but not as the only solution.

I also would like to see tiny electric vehicles. Maybe something that is only big enough to carry a person or two, since that is how most people use their personal cars today. Mated to solar charging panels on top of garages = efficiency. The whole system could cost the same as a modern SUV.

My bicycle solution would be bigger than only the two wheeled contraption that you see on today's roads. There could be four-wheeled contraptions with various options of one, two, or four person power. These contraptions could have weather-resistance, ample lighting, and relative comfort. There could be generator hubs that charge a battery system. Then, an accessory motor could be installed to aid with hills, etc.

Simple, efficient, and healthy.

If the new regulatory system that follows this whole mess drives up gasoline prices, then maybe my plan will become more viable.

Criterium, part 2

2010-06-01T17:25:00.003-05:00

So my last post was about all the people at the bike races. I have since been to another race, which was noteworthy in that one of the two are not an accurate representation of the event. I'm still going to give the breakdown from the first event, because it was funny.

So, I go out to the race course ten minutes before my race is scheduled to start. I pre-ride the course and warm up a bit. I then stop and wait at the start/finish line for the race to commence.

I realize something interesting at this point: There are women lined up in this race. This is not supposed to be a sexist remark. It is just that I signed up for the Men's category 5 event. It so seems that the organizers lumped the women category 4 event into the same time slot. That's OK with me, I figure we are all beginners here. Nobody is going to be in other people's way. The funny part is that the shaved macho-men were grumbling at how demeaning it was to be starting with the women... while within earshot of every woman at the starting line. I have never wanted to be beaten by a girl so bad in my life. I was hoping one of the women would just kick everyone's butts and show the hairless men a thing or two about bike racing.

The announcer called the start, and two distinct groups formed. Unfortunately, the groups were gender-segregated and the processional chronology occurred with men leading the way. The race was fast and I was in new territory. I just rode along and tried to keep pace. After a couple of laps, I was having a gay old time in the middle of the group when I hear people shouting and a lot of percussive and scraping noises. In my peripheral vision, I see a couple of guy hit the ground.

A wreck! Now its a race! Without my trusty beer helmet, I decided not to release a whoop or hoot. The nascar fan in me gets a little aroused by the aspect of some carnage. The adrenaline hits when somebody careens across the road in front of me and flips over the curb. I, logically, slow my bike and change my course to avoid the mayhem. Somebody had decided to ride in very close proximity to me and over-lap his front wheel with my rear. He began yelling when I steered around the pile of people, metal and plastic that had just cropped up. I guess it was m fault all these people were falling over. Anyhoo, we avoided crashing each other and resumed the race...

I must reiterate that this was my first race. Little did I know that I would be resuming the race about 5-10 seconds after the front of the group (not involved in avoiding any crashes) had really begun the race. In hindsight, it makes sense to accelerate away from a crash to split the field up. After sprinting hard to regain contact with the front group, I realized that I sucked. Over the course of another four laps, I had tapered to the back of the pack again. Then I was trailing like a minnow's tail, or sperm's flagella (pick your preferred analogy). Soon enough, I had become like a gecko's tail. As I watched my glorious win at my first race being torn from my fingertips, I decided to just keep going as hard as possible until I was either pulled out (the slow riders that congest the race get pulled by the race officials) or finish. I was lapped right before the finish line.

My first race was now complete. I rode a "cool-down" lap and made my way back to my truck. I was not going to hang around for results and prizes, since I would not be getting any. As I sat on the tailgate, removing my shoes, I realized one other thing about the racers in their gang-colors. Just like every person thinks they are a good driver (while all others are terrible), bike racers think they are superior bike handlers to the rest of the field. The super-hardcore cat-5 roadies with shaved legs were whining about the bike handling skills of every other rider out there (except, of course, for the couple of guys he was recapping the race with). I am pretty sure that one racer was complaining about my very own bike handling skills while standing at the tailgate of a truck adjacent to my truck.

The sand-bagger problem:
In racing, the term sand-bagging is used to describe a racer that competes in an easier category, because winning is more important than actually competing on a level playing field. I understand that certain criteria have to be met before moving from one category of racing to another, but I believe that sand-bagging was at play in this race. There were some guys out there that were definitely NOT in their first couple of races, racing in the "entry" level category. They were fast, but they were also obnoxiously arrogant about their tactics and aforementioned bike-handling skills. Next time, I suggest they wear backpacks with sand-bags in them for the race. I also suggest that these guys upgrade to pro, since they talk like they are good enough anyway, and enjoy all the success they are due.

So, in the end, I learned a lot. Racing is a social experiment as much as it is an athletic competition. Be safe out there.

Gang Colors, is Gang Green OK?

2010-05-26T17:00:00.004-05:00

Those of you who know me well (my three readers know me well, so I assume that if you are reading this you qualify into the aforementioned category of people), know that I have been doing less commuting than I used to. You see, I have been avoiding the ride from home into Austin, as those roads are like highways, except without all the protection of shoulders, cops, multiple lanes, and service roads. For that matter, I may actually be safer on the interstate than on the FM that I used to frequent. I still ride to San Marcos, but with school on break for another week or two, I make that trip less frequently than I used to.

In lieu of my lessened commuting routine, I have decided to try my hand in another cyclocentric venture: racing.

Last Sunday, I entered my very first "crit" race. Crit is cycling slang for "criterium", which is cycling slang for a race that is determined by time, rather than by distance. For instance, in a conventional road race, cyclists will start at a particular location and finish at another location a set distance away from the start line. A particular route is prescribed for the racers to follow. The race is over when the participants traverse the route from start to finish, regardless of time. A crit, however, enlists the use of a small circuit. Riders repeat the circuit until they reach a certain point in time that has been determined pre-race. When that time goes by, the race is ended at the start/finish line of the course.

I have compiled what I have learned about criterium racing (after one 30 minute event) below.

Venue:
Criterium racing is popular in America for one big reason: venue availability (my opinion). This racing style is well-suited for areas without traffic; with short, close, interconnected streets; and with easy access for large numbers of people (I mean cities. Bicycle racing is not popular, so if one out of every 100,000 inhabitants of a city are willing to race, it does nobody any good to race in Dangerfield, TX.).

What venue is perfect to host a weekend crit race? What venue has close, interconnected, paved streets? What areas are free of vehicles on the weekends, yet close to large urban/suburban areas? You guessed it, industrial and professional business parks.

There are problems with these areas that make them less than ideal for bicycle racing, though. Generally, these areas are least likely to have street sweepers regularly clean the streets. Also, the businesses that want to show a presentable exterior tend to over-water the grass (what little there is). Finally, there tend to be fixed objects along the streets' edges; such as mailboxes and curbing.

Predictions about the Participants:
The participants in a crit race are the usual roadie. Identical team kits, unanimously (almost) shaved legs, and conformist mentality are what set these people apart. I was entered in the lowest category of racing, level 5. In cyclo-competitive vernacular I am called a "cat 5". In webular vernacular, I am called a "noob". To the masses, I am referred to as one of those "gay, stretchy-pants-wearing Lance Armstrong wannabes", just a slower less experienced version.

I had made my predictions about how the people would behave at this event. I expected the higher category riders to hang out with their respective "teams". Team is the cyclo-competitive vernacular equivalent to "gang" in east LA vernacular. Both are identified by their "kits" or "colors", but otherwise all look and dress the same. There was plenty grouping (maybe groping, I wasn't gonna stare long enough to find out) at the races that day. I thought these teams were all higher level racers. I also made the prediction that the cat 5 racers would all be like me: teamless. I had on a solid colored jersey, as devoid of logos as my rivals' legs were devoid of hair.

I also expected the average age of my category to be a little younger, seeing as how I was in the entry level category. Now is a good time to reference exactly what criteria are needed to move to the next higher racing category. To go from cat 5 to cat 4, all you need to do is start in 10 races in one season. No need to finish, just start. No need to win. There were one or two other guys in my event that were of comparable age to me. I think the average age of the cat 5 races was closer to 35.

I also figured that, since these people are only racing for the fun of competition, there would be a friendly atmosphere and laid back attitude. This was the case before the race. After the race, there was a split between happy people and overly competitive people who had not yet let go of their anger over losing the race. More on this in a bit.

Lastly, I expected the race to be a bit hectic. Firstly, (lastly before firstly!) there were competitive men with shaved legs all around me. Secondly, a race is like a peacetime step-in for war. Thirdly, I expected the entry-level category to include a bunch of other first-time participants, like myself. Octagonally, the course had a bit of loose silt on one corner, a couple of lovely potholes, and a pristine curbing with mailbox punctuation along its entirety.

To Be Continued... the race and the aftermath.

Nostalgia

2010-05-13T06:20:00.003-05:00

I have been spending the last week in North Texas with my family. This area used to be my stomping grounds. Until I moved to the hills about a year ago, I biked all over the northeast corner of the metroplex.

Ingrid has said "We've biked on this road" about nine times this week, while driving around.

Notably, I have not yet given mountian biking an honest go in the hill country. I think there are a few contributing factors:

Firstly, time is scarce lately. I seem to spend my time getting between places on a bike rather than driving. Despite my arguments detailing how sensible cyclo-commuting is, it does take up a little time. I just don't have a five-hour block anywhere in my week where I can assemble my bike, gear, and nutrition, then go to a trail I've never been to, then ride it for a while, then drive home, then put everything back in place in the garage, then clean up, then...

Second, I have been finding other ways to spend my free time. I have recently acquired a wife, you see. Our first anniversary is within days.

Third, and most notably, I am so enamored with the trail I used to call home that I am afraid nothing will compare. The Dallas area has a very strong MTB cult, DORBA. They to quite a bit of conservation work at public parks and nature preserves, in return for access to some prime acerage to install and maintain singletrack. Everyone around here has a favorite. My "local" trail was located at the Rowlett Creek Preserve in Garland. This also happened to be Ingrid's favorite trail.

RCP offered to me exactly what I needed in a mountina bike trail (allow me some leeway with the term "mountain" in this post... Dallas is relatively flat and off-road bikes are called "mountian" bikes). I need the following things in a MTB trail: difficult technical parts, rhythmic fast parts, swoopy jumpy parts, and technical difficult parts. I am not really a mountina bike racer, as the best trails are single-track (a term referencing trails so narrow that single-file is the only option). Single track is ill-suited for passing, such as in a race. Single track is wonderfully suited for two-wheeled therapy ("therapy" can be referencing three things: (1) the mental/ emotional therapy of being alone in the woods; (2) the massage therapy of beating your body and face against trees, rocks, snakes, and barbed wire; and (3) the general therapudic effects of exercise). RCP is almost exclusively single track for about 12-17 miles (depending on the trail maintenance and state of local construction, which affects trail access).

I may have mentioned that I like fast parts and technical difficult parts in a trail. This is because I am afflicted with an adrenaline addiction rivaled by the likes of the Jackass cast, formula 1 drivers, and lesiure runners in Pamplona, Spain. RCP has a few sections of trail where a rider comes from a serenely wooded area and is spat out into a feild with a long. straight groove in it. Pedaling hard will net some good speed, followed by some nasty spiils, if you wander more than a foot out of line. Other fast parts of the trail tear through the woods with trees lining the trail's edges. Speeds that seem tame on a road bike just became insane. Just for good measure, the trail designers usually like to throw a really sharp turn with loose silt on top right at the end of the fastest parts. A keen amount of wit is required to navigate these trails at high speed. At reasonable speeds, these same sections are the most peaceful, because you can just pedal along and enjoy the beauty.

I also may have mentioned that I like swoopy jumpy parts and technical difficult parts to be incorporated in my off-road trails. RCP has only a few parts that fit into this category, and the "jumpy" part requires some inagination. You can jump, but you have to mean for it to happen.

There is one feature in an off-road trail that I really like. I apologize for not mantioning this previously. I like the technical difficult stuff. I don't need to ride my bike super fast (If you've seen my "mountain" bike, you know that it is no race machine) to have a good time. I don't need to grab some huge air-time to call my day successful. I do need, however, to be challenged... substantially challenged would be preferred. RCP offers this in doses. Anybody that tries to tell me that my beloved trail is not "big" enough (referencing the air-time) or fast enough don't understand the beauty that is hidden in cleaning a particular maneuver. RCP offers a few loops with concrete that has been removed from road projects and crushed to varying degrees. These chunks have provided the trail builders with the necessary materials to assemble some treacherous obstacles on the trails. Sure, brute force can get a rider through these areas. Sure, a multi-geared bike with ful suspension can slam across some of the rocks without even blinking. On my fully rigid single speed, it takes the perfect mix of power, finesse, and balance. Picking the perfect line through the course is more rewarding than saying you got past it fastest. In trials riding there is a term thown around: Dabs. Dabbing is putting your foot on the ground. In my world, navigating a trail without dabbing is nirvana.

Other parts of the RCP system include awkward maneuvers with tight trees or tight turns. Usually, slippery and slow climbs are thrown into the mix. Although DFW is pretty flat, short steep climbs have been made at this park along a small stream and the associated topography. One notable move on trail #14 at RCP involves a slow steeply downhill 90degree turn, followed by a river crossing and a slippery steep climb out the other side. I swear that I have spent some time swimming in that stream (it is about 15 inches deep there) trying to make the turn. Messing up the slippery climb coming out usually results in no more than a muddy butt and bruised ego.

Another notable feature at RCP is the presence of wood=planked land-bridges. Sometimes referred to as boardwalks, these features are narrow wooden paths with goopy mud alongside. Going off the edge of these planks is easy to do, as they are only about 18 inches wide. When wet, they are slip-n-slides. It is best to navigate these at a moderately low speed with smooth application of pedaling, brakes, or steering when needed.

Maybe, I will find a trail system in central Texas that offers me the same pleasure I get from RCP. It was good to get a ride out there this past week, though.

Alice Cooper

2010-05-06T18:14:00.002-05:00

I just finished the spring semester at my college, Texas State University. By that, I mean that I just finished writing a report on the spot for a final exam, and this post will be brief. Play your favorite summer break song in my honor, or your own honor. Alice Cooper seems to sum it up nicely.

May is national bike month. That means that May is the month for all of the would be cyclists out there to give it an honest try. Maybe you'll like it. Maybe you won't. I'm willing to take that risk. Hiram, let me know if you need some help setting up that old folding bike, which should definitely be named "the twist".

This month, I will be trying to celebrate bike month by driving my car more.

AAA, the largest automobile association (that I recognize) just released this press release about sharing the roads with cyclists. Read it for your own good.

Please comment on what you plan on doing to celebrate bike month.

Perforated Crust

2010-04-29T17:26:00.002-05:00

I am a weird type of person. On the one hand, I am selfish, cheap and undoubtedly consumerist. On the other, I think this world is entirely too concerned with luxury and convenience.

As everyone with eyes, ears, or an iPort (the new data acquisition hardware that you can have installed in your belly button that syncs with everything in the world, effectively turning you into an all-knowing, omniscient vegetable) knows by now, there is a mild oil spill off the coast of Louisiana. By mild, I mean about as mild as that Exxon Valdez spill a little while ago. Just like the Exxon spill, this one will be harmless to our robust and hardy ecosystems.

While I am sure there are very complicated processes involved in stopping the spill, I can't help but wonder if all the bickering about who to blame is clouding the task at hand: stop the leaks and clean up the spills. It seems that BP is interested in blaming the manufacturer of the equipment, or the installation crew (all of whom BP contracted). I just hope that every company involved has some serious penalties to pay once the oil has settled.

The true message I have for you all today is only punctuated by this oil spill. You can even say it is punctuated by the coal mine collapse that killed some miners, or the fact that Nantucket Sound will not likely get a wind farm anytime soon. We don't want to change our way of life, so we will just accept the bad with the convenient.

I am well aware that people don't want to stink at work. I am well aware that people don't want to die at the hands of a distracted driver. I am one of those people. I drive to places out of convenience plenty of times.

That being said, what if everyone replaced two round trips a week without using their cars? I'll do some rudimentary math, here. Let's say the average car trip that can be realistically replaced by a bike is about 3 miles round trip. This would cover a trip to the corner store for a soda and a few bananas. Multiply that by the number of driving Americans on the roads today. As of 2003, it was estimated that there were 196 million licensed drivers in America. We'll keep it here, which is conservative considering all the unlicensed drivers. If each driver cut out 6 miles of driving each week, that is a savings of 61.15 BILLION miles a year. The same source I am using (wikipedia) claims that average fuel economy is 17 MPG. That means if every driver replaced 6 miles a week with a bike trip to go get that hamburger, our country would save 3.59 billion gallons of fuel consumption annually. It takes 2.1 gallons of crude oil to extract 1 gallon of gas (let's pretend diesel isn't a factor). That means our country could reduce its oil consumption by 7.5 billion gallons (179 million barrels, at 42 gallons a barrel). In one year, we could completely make up for the spilled oil in the gulf.

Feeling greedy? One person replacing 6 miles a week with a bike would replace 312 miles a year. at 17 MPG and $2.50 a gallon, that's $46 of gas you don't have to buy. Nationally, that's almost $9 billion that can be reinvested in local economies, rather than being sent off to the great oil companies.

Not only that, but think of the savings you would offer the governments that maintain your roads. Less road use means less road repairs (means less tax money spent on road maintenance and more tax money spent on your children's education).

Here's the problem, though. Too many people are too comfortable with the status quo. People I talk to about this have this notion that their lives are more at risk on a bike (in a city street) than in a car (on a superhighway). I'll let you look up the stats for deaths and accidents associated with the two groups. I recommend that you also compile ratios and percentages. Hint: bikes are still safer, statistically. It's OK, though. Nader killed the Corvair and our streets have been safe ever since... if you are in a car.

In conclusion, I have realized that my post is a random soap-box rant that doesn't really follow a particular direction. I'm sorry.

May is national bike month. Get off your couch.

RIP Dumpsterbike

2010-04-26T15:28:00.003-05:00

Well, those of you who have been in my garage (that makes up about 90% of my ten readers) have met the dumpsterbike. Read along as we remember the glory of the dumpsterbike and outline a long, tedious eulogy.

At this point, I intended to link to a clip from Zoolander where Derek uses the wrong word for eulogy, but did not find something suitable. Go to youtube and watch a Zoolander clip for fun right now. I promise, I'll wait till you get back before I continue.

Anyhoo, the story begins with an abandoned bike on a college campus. All the tell-tale signs of abandonment were present. First, there was significant rust...everywhere. Second, there were broken and bent components, making the bike (if otherwise not rusted into a single piece) unrideable. Third, there were two flat tires, making the bike (if not otherwise rusted into a single piece, and with bent/broken components) unrideable. So there was this bike. It sat in the same spot, leaned against a bike rack. It looked as if it had gone untouched for over a year, judging by the rust patterns.

So, I took it. Not one of my best moments, but Just like a little girl that finds a stray dog, I felt like the bike needed a better home than what it was given. I took it home, striped every rusted piece from the frame and started cleaning. First, all the paint had to come off. There were layers of it. With the frame and fork stripped bare, I polished the fork tips and masked the steerer tube. Then I sealed the insides of the head tube and bottom bracket. White primer went under blue metallic spray paint. Not my best work, but my intentions were to make a rideable bike on the cheap.

As the paint dried, I began disassembling the components. I took the spokes from the wheels, took the bearings from the hubs, and took the handlebars from the stem. I took every piece of the brakes, shifters and derailleurs apart. Everything was cleaned with solvent and a wire brush. I removed rust and dirt and old grease that had coagulated into plasticky crap. Everything went back together with fresh lube and some clear spray paint to inhibit rust.

I had to buy and replace the following items:
Tires, tubes, bar tape, cables, housings, chain, freewheel, crank set, bottom bracket, seat tube, brake pads and some miscellaneous hardware.

I added a few bits:
rack, lights, pedals that don't suck, and a seat that didn't make my gentle areas go numb.

Reassembly took a while. This project was the first time I ever had to lace and build a wheel. Truing and dishing took a while, but I eventually got it right with even tension and a straight-tracking wheel. I also had to get the right size bottom bracket using the trial-and-error method, since I was using a new cranks, and refused to ask a bike shop technician for help in bottom bracket spacing. Once together, I noticed a few disheartening scars of a tough life. The bottom bracket housing was worn and rusted. There were only a few threads holding the new bottom bracket in place. There was a dent in the downtube. This was intentionally added by somebody in order to install the clamp-mounted downtube shifters. That was OK, since I reinstalled the same shifters (covering the dent). Eventually the bike was built.

Then I rode it. It was splendid. Not splendid like a new bike rides, but actually horrible. The bike had a bad speed wobble from being an old budget frame that was not perfectly straight. The steel used to build the bike was not very stiff, giving a springy noodle-feeling ride. The steel rims, cheap brakes, and even cheaper brake pads all contributed to lackluster stopping power. If any of you have tried an emergency stop on a steel-rimmed bike in the wet, you know exactly what I am talking about.

The important part is that everything worked well enough to use the bike as transportation. I went to school, went to work, and carried groceries with the bike that I rescued from the dump (ie: dumpsterbike). Thing is, although nothing on this bike was "high quality" or top-of-the-line, it was actually pretty fast. I regularly made record time on this bike. I guess it had something to do with the fact that I carefully rebuilt and re-lubed every part of it. When I moved to Kyle, my commute to school grew from 4 to 15 miles. My commute to work grew from 5 to 20 miles. Dumpsterbike was willing to make the trip anywhere, and quickly amassed miles. I think in one year I added almost 12,000 miles to that thing. I wore out so many tires that I started buying the cheapest ones I could find. Good thing I did, too. The picture at the top of my blog showing a slashed tire is on dumpsterbike, after finding a razor-blade at about 25 MPH. Funny part: that tire was only a week old, and made with a Kevlar liner. Bullet proof does not mean blade-proof.

Eventually, the bottom bracket threads wore out. The shell no longer could hold the bottom bracket in place, and the pedal wobbled something fierce. I reinstalled the BB with JB-Weld... twice. This proved to be insufficient both times, and I had to eventually consider dumpsterbike dead. Now, there are pieces of bike all over my garage. Some destined to be used another day. Others are as good as trash, if I can bring myself to it. The broken frame will likely be recycled into some kind of art or "conversation" furniture. Maybe I will incorporate a fond rememberance of "Dumpsterbike" when I make the furniture from the frame. I think that would be nice.

Ingrid came to pick me up on the side of the road after the last BB failure. She said, "lets make a deal: You have permission to use $X for a replacement if you stop trying to revive that old bike. Just get rid of it." I am a sucker for collecting bikes, and the aspect of a new one perked me up at first. For now, I think I will just ride the rest of the bikes I still have.

R.I.P. Dumpsterbike. We had a lot of good miles together.

The Lone Star Tour: a proposal

2010-03-17T16:50:00.002-05:00

Well, it is officially spring in Texas. In HCC terms, that means we are teetering on the fence between the "warm from vs. cool front debacle" and "hot + drought". There is wind a-plenty, in shifting directions. There are rain storms in between warm or cool periods. When the sun is out, the beauty of the hill country is unarguable.

For Europe, Spring means bike races. Lots of bike races happen and my favorite racing websites are buzzing with news of who won this race and who doped in that race. There are assessments of riders' early season performances. Predictions are made for who I should be watching out for in the upcoming races this summer. Notably, people like to pretend that they know who will have a good showing at le Tour de France. Comments will include (paraphrased), "Racer A sucked in this race, but it was on purpose to save some strength for the tour" or, "Racer B is already winning, so that must mean he will be undefeatable for the Tour" or maybe, "Racer C is already winning this season, so he will be tired and slow during the Tour".

Another thing that all the race reporters like to include is how difficult it is to ride a bike in these races. One year, the Giro di Italia encountered a pretty big blizzard on a mountain stage. During the early season, there are often reports of near-freezing temperatures mixed with rain and wind and sleet.

Before this year, one of the big events to concern myself with (as an Amurrcan, Fuck Yeah!!) in the early season was the Tour of California. Formerly held in March-ish, The ToC was an early season spectacle that was fun to watch, and more importantly in my country. Believe it or not, My minuscule amount of national pride provides me a greater level of interest in races in my own country. I want to know if my fellow countrymen have set the proverbial bar for their international competitors. I want more U.S. racing. Maybe it would bring in some more bicycle-centric tourism. Maybe it would increase the bicycle friendliness of our drivers. Maybe it would inspire a more health-conscious populous. No offense to my fellow citizens, but the two most popular sports - baseball and football - involve more standing around than physical exertion. I'm underimpressed when I see a top-tier football lineman with a gut that 'done lopped over his belt'. What are we teaching our children? Anytime I see a group fussing over a small child that is fat (overweight is too sugar-coated for me), I am sure to hear someone way that football is right up their alley. Baseball players that throw hard and accurate don't have to be particularly fit.

My solution to this is more bike races in the U.S.A. involving top-tier competitors and big sponsors (which will invite big publicity in the wake). There is a big tour in Missouri that also brings in top pros. I propose a Texas bike race full of top professional athletes: The Lone Star Tour. Since Texas is practically its own country anyway, I think it is appropriate. Within a month, racers could see most of what the Republic has to offer. Here's my rough proposal on what Texas could offer to a grand tour event.

Criterium circuits in Dallas would be exciting. This metropolitan area also offers an international airport and world-class dining and hotels for tourists wanting to see some of the action.

A stage finishing in Frisco could involve racers sprinting to the finish line on the banks of the Superdrome.

A team time trial would be great if it was organized to navigate a course in windy west Texas. I think a TTT that navigated past the wind farms would offer race photographers a way to capture the theme of a team trying to cheat the wind.

El Paso could offer what might be as close as the Lone Star Tour can get to a mountain stage.

Houston could offer a time trial in an urban environment. The neat feature of this city is that racers that are not prepared to sweat will have trouble here. I propose that this race be held in the summer, where being outside in Houston is comparable to being in a marathoner's armpit. They tell me it is a little humid there. With an international airport and world-class accommodations, this could be a great stage for international tourists.

East Texas and the piny-woods would offer great scenery for a long stage race with a sprint finish. European races offer cobblestones, I posit that we offer dirt and gravel roads (which there are plenty of).

San Antonio could host a stage, with the racers flying past the Alamo and other historic sites.

Corpus Christi could offer great scenery with predictable wind replacing any mountains. The racers could ride across the causeway and finish on the island with hula-girls (or fishing-bums) as part of the podium celebrations for the day.

The hill country could offer beautiful scenery and plenty of elevation changes for the racers. I think a stage that traversed the hardest parts of the hill country would offer a decisive win for one of the racers bidding for the overall title. Wimberly, Blanco, and Dripping Springs would be must-haves on the way north to the hills near Lake Travis. This stage would offer many other difficulties, too. Instead of cobblestones or dirt roads, this area could offer plenty of cattle-guard crossings and chip-n-seal road surfaces. Also, with Wimberly being the unofficial "dead deer capital of Texas", the local wildlife could offer plenty of excitement for a group of 200 bike racers that are too tired to look where they are going (though I have seen many a squirrel go under/into a bike wheel when I lived in the Dallas area - one made three lops before being ejected from the spokes and leaving behind plenty of hair).

Maybe I am being partial here, but I want to see a final stage that drives through the wicked hills of west Lake Austin neighborhoods before tearing through Austin and finishing in front of the capital steps. This would be appropriate, since not only is Austin the capital city of Texas, but arguably the bicycling capital of Texas. Before Ft. Worthians start whining that their city council just passed the most aggressive bicycle plan in the nation, hear me out. There are more bike-riding racers, hipsters, and hippies in Austin than any other city, in my experience. The local crit races have taken over a race-track every Tuesday night. There is an open-invitation group ride each Thursday night that brings in up to 500 riders each week (with bars sponsoring the ride... possibly the root of this event's success). Although Austin Drivers aren't any safer to ride near than another city's, and the city council is slow to adopt bicycle friendly policies, there is a bigger and stronger group of velo-centric people than any other in Texas.

There you have it. I want a Lone Star Grand Tour. I want it to be in summer, where it is kind of hot. If we have to give the pros some time to recover after le Tour, we can postpone until September, but it will be frigid (under 100) the entire time, so we should have our race in July and France will have to reschedule their tour.

PS: I promise to finish the series about cyclist taxonomy with a developed HCC theory of taxonomy that surpasses any other cyclogrouping theories of inferior thinkology.

Cyclist Taxonomy (2.1)

2010-03-12T13:17:00.004-06:00

Today, in the series of discussions about cyclist taxonomy, we will cover the second part of the list of cyclists grouped by their reasons to ride a bike.

Here is part 1

Here is part 2

Pedi-Cabbie:
The PC is a small group of cyclists isolated to urban environments. There is one reason a PC rides: money. This is a person who operates a peculiar rickshaw-style bicycle with a love seat mounted behind it, for which the operator uses to deliver people to places (or places to people, if the passenger is so important that the world moves around him or her). The cycle is actually three-wheeled, however some PCs have been known to use a four wheeled contraption that is basically a bike with a passenger-toting trailer. The PC is commonly found lurking outside of bars in urban areas on weekend evenings. There is a very strong contingent of these cyclists in Austin, TX, where the "alcohol district" is closed to motor vehicle traffic during the peak drinking periods (Friday and Saturday nights). Without a motor, the PC is able to operate without conventional taxi competition. The Austin PC also has lucrative business during UT football season, as football fans shouldn't be bothered to walk from their cars to the stadium (the parking lot for tailgating is nearest the stadium, while the parking lot for lay-fans is half way across the city). As a pedi-cab patron, you will most likely subject yourself to a seat on a waterproof vinyl seat with less than ample cushioning in a fiberglass chariot piloted by a sweaty person wearing tight jeans and a studded belt that does not do its job. By that I mean all pedi-cab rides are like a romantic moon-lit walk, without the "walk" part and with an extra helping of olfactory stimulation.

Messenger:
Like the PC, the messenger is a person who uses a bike to make a dollar. A dwindling industry, the bike messenger is losing ground to such technology as the fax machine and the internet. In Austin, Whole Foods has tried to stimulate the bike messenger business by adding delivery by bicycle to their cafe services (if you live close enough to the store that their messengers can manage to get there before your sandwich gets smashed, cold, hot, or moldy. Like the PC, messengers tend to be tight-pants wearing hipsters with nonfunctioning belts. One piece of necessary attire is the "messenger bag", which is a rectangular satchel with a single strap worn across the torso. Their sweat will get into your spaghetti, so don't order this way.

Freestyler:
The freestyler is a cyclist that uses a bicycle for performing some aesthetic maneuver on a bike. There are three types of freestylers: the BMX freestyler (BMXF), the MTB freestyler (MTBF), and the fixed-gear freestyler (FGF).

The BMXF is arguably the first version of freestyler to "hit the scene". This is because BMX bikes pre-date the MTB. Pioneering the freestyle scene, BMXF artisans are performing stunts that the other two groups of freestylers have not yet accomplished. This group is generally wearing baggier pants than previously discussed (shirt optional) and skateboard shoes.

The MTBF takes a lot of cues from the BMXF. Since the freestyle mountain bike is really just a big BMX bike, the tricks of a freestyler on a MTB are typically faster, bigger, and the crashes more painful (but otherwise similar to BMX). Different interpretations of the MTBF are the trials rider (not faster), the street trials rider (I highly recommend watching all of this one if you haven't yet), and the sloperstyle rider. The MTBF is usually covered in scars and tattoos (or tattoos of scars). Like BMXF, MTBF wears baggy pants and skateboard shoes. I think I saw a non-functioning studded belt in one video.

The FGF is by far the least amusing to watch. This has nothing to do with the impressiveness of the tricks. You watch a FGF for the same reason you watch bad stand-up comedy or the three stooges. The performances are pretty pathetic, and you will laugh because these people take themselves seriously. The tight-pants and non-functioning studded belt dresscode applies here. Also, flat brimmed hats are popular replacements for helmets, as speed and intensity of tricks is so low that there is little risk.

Recreational Cyclist:
The recreational cyclist (rec) is our final group of cyclist based on type of cycling. This group is likely to occupy any number of shapes and sizes. Like some of the other groups, it is easier to touch on a few subsets of this category.

The social rec is a cyclist that goes for a ride when it is necessary to establish or continue relationships with other social recs. This could include the group-rider, who is a roadie that likes to get into all his stretchy gear twice a week and go ride with thirty other similarly dressed people and run stop signs. Another social rider is the Thursday night social rider, who get together with 400 of his or her closest friends on the Lamar Pedestrian Bridge in Austin, and rides around for a while before retiring to a bar where more calories worth of alcohol will be consumed than those spent on the bike ride. All types of bikes and cloth are permitted into this group, but bring your own marijuana.

The loaner rec is somebody who loves riding a bike so much, that getting out of contact with people to go for a ride alone is therapy. Sometimes, this involves a hike-n-bike trail and a comfortable cruiser bicycle. Other times, this is a former racer who just likes to blow the dust off of the ole' ten speed. More often than not, the loaner rec is a mountain bike rider. There is something about being alone in the wilderness with nothing but a bike and some singletrack. Generally, there is no consistent dress in this category. One rule does apply: no cell phones. Don't even think about disturbing the loaner rec.

The last kind of rec cyclist is the significant other rec (SORec). The SORec is somebody that hos not yet come to love cycling in any specific measure, but is willing to give it a go for somebody else. Generally, the SORec is open-minded to this whole biking thing, so long as there is a really comfortably cushioned seat provided to the SORec by the beloved. If successful, the beloved will eventually convert a SORec into another type of cyclist. If not, somebody spent lot of money on a bike (or bikes) that will not see many miles.

Cyclist Taxonomy (2)

2010-03-07T09:11:00.005-06:00

As noted in part 1 of this stream of consciousness, I have noticed that there are a few different ways to categorize cyclists. Last time, we categorized cyclists based on the bikes they ride. (if I left out a group or type of bicycle, either I didn't think of it or I don't consider it a real cyclist). Today, we will establish that it is pretty fun to group together cyclists based on why they ride. I used the list "Racer, Commuter, Pedi-cabbie, Messenger, Freestyler, and Recreational cyclist" to make my original argument for this style of cyclogrouping, so that is the list I will use for this post (edit 3/12/10: This post only has racer and commuter. The next post has the rest of this list. -hcc).

Racer:
The racer is a fun study. Never has there been a group of cyclists more fun to disassemble and study. Firstly, the reason for the racer to ride a bike is simple - either this person is participating in a race, or preparing for future race participation. The mindset of the racer is that there is a strict plan for performance, and it must be followed in order to achieve the ultimate goal of embarrassing all other competitors with ease and style (the most successful racer makes it look like he/she is so overwhelmingly superior that winning was easy and there was plentiful energy in reserve). As such, rides outside of races are strictly for training purposes. Some days are for riding very hard, to increase speed. Other days are for riding very long, to increase stamina. As with other activities that are pleasurable because of their awkward confusion between discomfort and bliss, the excruciatingly fast and excruciatingly long rides will cause rash and chafing in the private areas without rest. For this reason, racers incorporate planned periods of low intensity smoother rides that caress and coddle the body (ultimately leading to superior relaxation). Innuendo aside, there are even days planned into the racer's training schedule where no cycles will be mounted. Even Ron Jeremy needs a day off once in a while. Noteworthy is the fact that the racer refers to bike rides executed for practical reasons to be categorized as "junk miles". Basic transportation is performed with the aid of a motor.

Riding is not the only part of a racer's life that is strictly monitored for performance enhancement. The racer carefully monitors caloric intake and diet, to keep weight low while maintaining high energy levels. Fat and sugars are limited in the racer's diet. Alcohol is for cleaning wounds, not consumption (unless it is off-season). Just like junk miles, the racer believes that such a thing exists as "junk food". Foolishly, this food group includes such delectables as candy, donuts, and the entire menu at What-a-Burger. Exceptions to these rules are made on race day, when any energy is better than no energy (and instant energy - i.e. caffeinated sodas - are even better).

Clothing of the racer is tight. Like the roadie from my last post, stretchy pants are the rule. This applies cross the board. Road and MTB racers all wear tight shorts and jerseys. Usually, logos litter the outfit and it is always called a "kit". Usually, the kit is called a "team kit" and the racer has friends dressed similarly. If the racer is successful, the kit was given to the racer for free under the stipulation that it should be worn at all times while on a bike. Truly dedicated racers will wear the kit under clothing and to bed, as well. Team kit smells bad. This is unflappably true.

The bicycle of the racer varies depending on level of dedication. As with the team kit, successful racers will have free bikes. They are really expensive, like more-than-my-truck-cost-expensive. The un-sponsored racer buys the same bike that the sponsored racer was given, if fully committed to the sport. There is a back-up bike as well. The back-up bike is often equally expensive. The bike does not make the racer faster, but definitely isn't going to be the slow part of the racer's performance. Upon losing a race, the racer still blames the multi-thousand dollar bike as the reason for being slow about 50% of the time.

Commuter:
The commuter is a varied breed. This broad category covers anybody who uses a bike as basic transportation. Instead of giving sub-sections describing the commuter's diet, cloth, and bike; I'll just cover some different types of commuter in short, generalized paragraphs.

The "green commuter" is riding for the sake of bragging about their exceedingly low carbon footprint. Nevermind that bikes and tires and bike components are largely produced overseas and shipped over on giant fuel-thirsty container ships, then trucked over to a warehouse, only to be trucked over to a store before being sold to the cyclist who conveniently omits that part of the green life of their bicycle. Green commuters often wear organic cotton t-shirts and geeky sandals. There is a chance that a green commuter encounter nets an organic vegan. If female, the green commuter likely has hair where convention would dictate shaving. Bikes have racks and are outfitted with ample storage, fenders, and lighting systems. These accessories are the green commuter's weapons of rhetoric in support of eliminating cars altogether, as "being able to ride in the dark" and "being able to carry stuff around" and "being able to ride more comfortably in wet conditions" are popular cop-out reasons for Prious drivers to keep buying gas.

Similar to the green commuter, the "trendy commuter" rides a bike by choice. Decidedly less utilitarian, the trendy commuter chooses a bike to be fashion statement. Some trendy commuters choose fixies that match their studded belts (which fail at keeping pants above cracks, rendering those studded belts useless). Other trendy commuters like the looks of a finely tailored jacket and a dutch city bike. In short, it is all about convention and conformity into counterculture (a conundrum in its own right). Alcohol choice of the trendy commuter is according to the trends of the group he or she conforms into.

One very notable segment of commuter rides a bicycle not by choice, but by economic stress. The weapon of choice here is exclusively the department store "mountain" bike with a sticker indicting that it should not be taken off-road. Always in disrepair, the bike of the "necessary commuter" generally has 1 out of 12-18 functioning gears and under-inflated tires. The necessary commuter uses the bike as a method of transportation to a job where they are generally underpaid and overworked. The biggest goal or aspiration for the necessary commuter is to rise from the ranks of bicycle and graduate to the cage-dom of operating a motor vehicle, from which point the necessary commuter will become enraged at the sight of a bicycle that impedes the path of his or her car.

Another type of commuter is the athlemmuter (athletic commuter). This person rides for the sake of fitting an exercise routine into an otherwise too-busy day. Sometimes (rarely) overlapping with the racer, the athlemmuter will look decidedly like a roadie with a backpack. Tight shorts and reflective clothing are the normal cloth. Road bikes (the racer's "winter-bike", or spare-squared) that are cheap enough to be locked to a bike rack are oftentimes used by the athlemmuter. Normal diet often includes massive quantities of energy bars and sports drink. Not necessarily a racer, the athlemmuter still tracks the record fastest time to get to any routine destination. This time is the par, and hopefully beatable target for tomorrow's trip to (or home from) work.

One last group of commuter is the "just moved out of my parents' house and tried to make it on my own but now I can't afford gas and have to ride a bike to school commuter" (JMOMPHTMOMOBNICAGHRBSC). The JMOMPHTMOMOBNICAGHRBSC is the quintessential first-year college student, there is really no need to elaborate on this, just go watch a crappy college movie. That's all the research I did on this one.

Next time, I will get on with the next part of this list, but it turns out I am feeling long-winded today.

P.S. Google maps added a "by bike" travel option. Nice to be included, but use this feature with caution. New computer programs always need to be de-bugged.

Cyclist taxonomy (1)

2010-02-28T21:24:00.005-06:00

There are many different types of cyclists. Because we all want to feel special, we categorize ourselves. It is a conventional thing to do. Just like biological taxonomy, there are differing opinions about how to group different cyclists together. Some like to use classifications like Roadie, Trackie, Triathlete, Mountain-biker, BMX-er, Recumbent cyclist, and Unicyclist. These are categories based on vehicular selection. Other popular genre-fication techniques for cyclists are based on the reasons a person is on a cycle. Examples from this school of thought include Racer, Commuter, Pedi-cabbie, Messenger, Freestyler, and Recreational cyclist. I like to use personality types to help determine what kind of cyclist you are.

Let's preface this lesson by first explaining the types of cyclists based on cycle choice. The Hill Country Commuter Cyclist Taxonomy Theory (HCCCTT) is an education in higher order thinking, and as such requires some prerequisite knowledge.

ROADIE
This is the cyclist you likely see riding around in stretchy-pants. Generally, the pants are in conjunction with a 'jersey' that is covered in logos. It is very common for these people to go spend ridiculous amounts of money on these jerseys in order to mimic the professional cyclists that inspired them. -Here's the deal with that: professional cyclists wear logo-ed up cycling clothes because the owners of those logos pay them to.- This is not the end of the Roadie's attire, though. There are shoes with carbon fiber soles. There is an unspoken rule about having socks that are precisely 2.5" above the ankle. If it is cold, you wear stretchy arm and leg warmers that you can remove without undressing completely, should you change your mind about your clothing choice mid-ride. Gloves are optional, but if you are a gloved Roadie, you have quite the glove selection. If you don't wear a helmet, you are not welcome along on the Roadie ride. The accumulated Roadie clothing selection will never be referred to as an "outfit". They call their set of clothing a Kit. It is a rare Roadie that is willing to break the rule that instructs not to intermingle pieces from different Kits.

It is also very likely that the roadie has spent an even more ridiculous amount of money on their bicycle. We're talking silly expensive. In order to replicate a pro racer's bike, you'll discover how easy it is to spend FIVE FIGURES at the bike shop. The entry price for the roadie club is $1800. Anything less, and you are weakly attempting to fit in. They'll let you ride with them, because it is mean not too (assuming you have a helmet), but they will not consider you 'one of them'. Important notes here are that exotic materials are a must. This is the primary reason for the cost of the Roadie bike. Carbon Fiber rules the genre, with a slight amount of leeway allowed for exotic metals, like titanium. Aluminum and steel are for "winter bikes", which the Roadie does not talk about (outside of the few terrible months when they have to ride them, which reminds them how much they love their plastic wunderbikes).

NOTE: Winter bikes only apply to the few Roadies that are willing to subject their fragile bodies to being outside in the winter.

To discover a roadie in the real world, you'll find that person to be elitist and competitive. There are two subsets of roadies. Some ride to eat, and thus they eat everything they see or smell. Others eat to ride, and strictly monitor their calories; this makes them as light and as strong as possible, so they can drop your lame fat ass on the hilly sections.

THE MOUNTAIN-BIKER
The Mountain Biker wears varied clothing. Some wear tight fitting clothes, such as the Roadie. Others wear shorts that fit comfortably for both cycling and walking around the local REI. Although these are rarely accurate descriptions, Mountain Bikers call these "baggies" as if they only have lycra cycling shorts to compare their other shorts with. Usually shirts are looser-fitting versions of jerseys. Oftentimes, the designs on these jerseys are humorous or ironic rather than company logos.

Mountain Bikers love their equipment. Technology is big here, with bikes covered in gears, shocks, springs, shifters, cables, hydraulics, suspension forks, exotic materials, and bottle openers (I'll explain, be patient). There is not an entry price as with the roadies, however you will not get a lot of conversation from a hardcore Mountain Biker without at least some of the aforementioned accessories on your bike. Region has great influence on specific bikes to choose, though. Some areas have fast, smooth trails. Here, you see a lot of lightweight bikes with short-travel suspension and carbon fiber bits. Sometimes you see a "hardtail", which is not as hardcore as the motorcycle implications would lead you to believe. Hardtails are for mountain bikers on a budget. Other regions have lots of big hills and craggy obstacles. These areas usually require longer suspension travel and tougher machines. Other areas have big mountains with ski lifts to take you up. With only the trip down a concern, this area caters to heavy (50lb) bikes with more suspension travel than some pickup trucks. Carbon fiber is not acceptable material in this application.

In the real world mountain bikers take many forms. There are so many varieties, that it is practically impossible to identify one away from the trail. There is, in fact, only one consolidating feature of the mountain biker culture: BEER. Mountain bikers drink craft beers. Favorites are sourced from microbreweries in Colorado, USA, or cyclocentric European countries like Germany and Belgium. Seeing as how they are generally tougher than roadies, they ride year-round. As a result, winter brews are dark and rich, while summer brews are bitter and hoppy. The general rule here is "no green bottles".

HIPSTERS
Not all hipsters are cyclists. This is a reference to cycling hipsters only.

The dress of the hipster is as tight as the roadie, only denim. In this day and age, stretchy denim is acceptable. Shirts are also cotton. It is a rule that low performance natural fibers are preferred. V-neck t-shirts, pearl-snapped western shirts, and suede-elbowed sport coats are all allowed (concurrently, in some cities). Shoes are to be stylish and varied, with one rule: they must be illogical to cycle in.

Hipsters chose to ride single-speed road bikes. Usually, these hipsters choose fixed-gear bicycles. The ones who don't are just too scared to ride a fixed-gear (which I will from now on refer to as "fixie", the hipster vernacular for "bicycle") bike, because their hipster friend told them it was scary and hard. Notice we don't use the term "track bike" when referring to fixies (track bikes are the fixed-gear bikes that inspired fixies). Some hipsters use track frames. Others use road frames and change the parts to look like track frames. Lately, they purchase bikes designed to be fixies. There is again no entry price to the hipster bike world. Here, the rule is customization. Wild paint selection is a cheap way to do this. Also, changing to a non-factory handlebar is cheap, too. Above this, hipsters choose to change their seats from the original. When their parents increase their allowance, they invest in custom wheels (Depending on the depth of parental pocket-caves, this could mean the illusive Aerospoke! or maybe just the played-out Deep-V). The customization is usually selected for form over function, as the Deep-V bike linked to above shows us with handlebar selection (He must be equipped with joints that I don't have, because they just don't look all that comfortable to hold on to).

Aside from the trademark dress code, hipsters can be spotted pretty easily. First of all, their bikes are their favorite accessories that never leave their sides. Hipster population density increases as you approach colleges and/or trendy urban neighborhoods. Many hipsters are broke, because they spent their entire monthly allowance on weed, beer, and colorful bike parts. That means they may not live in the trendy urban areas, but they hang out there enough to fool the locals. Hipsters drink cheap crappy beers that define their own sense of irony. Usually, this means PBR, but Lone Star is popular in Austin. Hipsters' level of hardcore-dness can be further determined by their level of tattoo/piercing. I have seen swirly bones as ear adornments as well as gauges large enough to serve food on. I also have seen a tattoo across a guy's neck that reads "cut along the dotted line" and accompanies a tattooed "dotted line".

SINGLESPEEDERS
Not to be confused with regular mountain bikers, singlespeeders have their own genre. It is not because the mountain bikers wouldn't have them, though. Singlespeeders like to set themselves apart from the mundane mountain bikers, with all their fluffy suspension and efficient gears... pussies. There is no dress code for singlespeeders. By this I mean every possible interpretation.

Singlespeeders' bikes are generally cheaper than that of their mountainous brethren. Typically, they have only one gear. In fact, this is a defining feature of a single-speed mountain bike. All are hardtail frames. In this case, the hard tail frame is as tough and badass as the motorcycle insinuation implies (according to the singlespeeders). Rigid front forks are selected by about half of the singlespeeder population. Others ride with a modest amount of front suspension. Budget and badass-itude affect the fork decision. 29er wheels/tires are popular among singlespeeders, but not necessary. Gear ratio choice is dictated by region and rider strength (which the singlespeeders argue is greater than that of the mountain bikers in all cases).

To identify a singlespeeder, look for panel vans, torn up clothing, heavy metal, and lewd behavior. Do not take a singlespeeder to your mother's house. It is totally possible for a singlespeeder to have far more tattoos than your average hipster. Wear a condom when shaking a singlespeeder's hand, or riding on the same train as one. Singlespeeders like a good craft brew as much as a mountain biker, however copious quantities are more likely on any given post-ride libation celebration. (I was gonna say "libation-fest", but I like the rhyme factor of "libation celebration". What do you guys think?).

RECUMBENTEERS
Riders of recumbent bicycles are a strange breed. Birkenstocks are appropriate footwear (with socks). Khaki shorts or pants are fine. Shirts are buttoned and tucked in. Helmets have mirrors mounted to them.

Bikes of the recumbenteer are like the recliners of mobility. They are a little more expensive than an upright bicycle, but the recumbenteer will claim that this premium is offset by the increased comfort and perceived aerodynamic efficiency. Modification is rare, as these bikes are already, um, unique.

To go on a recumbent safari, just look for a philosophy professor. This person will drink alcohol from grapes, because they like the refinement. If male, a good indicator that he is a recumbent bicycle enthusiast will be his full, yet trimmed, beard. There will likely be distinguishing gray streaks in it, be they natural or "enhancements".

I left out unicyclists and triathletes, but they are mostly illusive and beyond my expertise. Plus, it is like midnight and I have to go to school tomorrow, or mom will take away my aerospoke allowance.

...Zombies (p2)

2010-02-24T08:32:00.003-06:00

The change took forever. It felt like it was two or three weeks long.

This crappy brew had made the awkward soreness in my legs cease (the soreness is a plaguing feature of anyone who rides a bike for "training" or "exercise" or "getting to class at the top of the hill"). My head was clear. My breathing and heart-rate were calm and steady. The calmness ended there.

The rage I felt seemed to pulse through my body. I found myself dwelling on each instance of road rage in my life. On my bike, walking, driving... any time I was at the receiving end of a driver's rage. I have been run off the road. I have been run into. I have been given vulgar gestures. I have been offered vulgar advice. I have been buzzed, bullied, and belittled. I started remembering that for whatever reason, people seem to be MORE aggressive toward me when I am biking than when I drive or walk. I have been made to feel as if I were doing something wrong. I remembered the time I was pulled over and interrogated beside the road for matching the description: "white male on bicycle". I was fully aware of my feelings, but I could no longer control them.

I looked up. Paul and Ruben were red in the face. Paul said, "You know, one time a trucker threw a coke can at me and hit me in the back. I was just pedaling along on a street, minding my own business." Ruben said, "That is despicable. I was shot in the rump with an 'air-soft' gun once. Not soft. The passenger -and shooter- shouted at me to get on the sidewalk." I chimed in, "I got milkshaked. I really don't want to say anything else about it."

As we spoke of our poor, victimized experiences with cycling, I scanned the room. All the other people in this bar looked like cyclists. All types were represented. Strangely, a triathlete was conversing with a recumbent-rider. All the riders were telling their sad stories to each other, getting furious.

Some weirdo decided to get on the table and shout, "This has to end!"

There was a resounding cheer of agreement. Everybody in the bar went out to their bikes immediately. There were no more words spoken among the riders, as if we were sharing some creepy collective-consciousness. Although I was able to ride normally (and run, ad handle large, blunt weapons), walking was hard. I could only walk around with an awkward stumbling gate, my head slumped to one side, my right foot dragging a little as I stumbled along.

My body really wanted me to walk with my arms extended, wrists limb while groaning. I decided that was entirely too cliche, so I stuck with the description in the previous paragraph.

Strangely, I was fully cognizant. I was aware of my current status as zombie. I was also aware that I was acting out of some collective influence. I couldn't stop myself, but I was at least aware of what was happening.

Mounted on my steel steed and armed with a mace-like weapon I had fashioned out of my bike lock at the end of a cable, I took to the streets. Searching for cars, trucks, vans, and SUVs (especially fat blond women in SUVs wielding the most dangerous weapon against bicycles ever...the combination of texting on a cell phone while disciplining the child in the back - notice I did not include "while driving" because at this point these vehicles are driving themselves. The only input the women give the vehicle here is usually a fat foot full of throttle). It was time to settle the score.

Herds of cyclists with bats, boards, mallets, and sticks flocked to any moving cars they could find. Windows were shattered. Drivers were beaten. Children were placed on small bicycles and given weapons after being fed a small sip of our intoxicating zombie libation (remember, PBR is teh shitty hipster beer that started this). I chose to stuff an i-Phone into some fat blond woman's eye socket. Her son, Fred, was freed from his car-seat and zombified just in time to mock her by throwing a milkshake at her. If ever I decide to procreate, I can only hope...

As Fred and Ruben helped Paul take down a teenage girl in a Mustang, I spotted the holy grail of road-rage-revenge opportunities. Indeed, it was the 4x4 dually diesel pickup with smokestacks and red plastic testicles hanging from the rear bumper. The driver was running down the triathlete. A squashed recumbent rider lay in the wake. I gave chase, but to no avail. The same stranger that organized the zombie collective from a tabletop whizzed past me. He looked familiar, but I couldn't quite figure it out. He was dressed like a road racer. His jersey was yellow, but he couldn't decide what sponsor logos to put on it, so he just had the words "Renegade Landis" printed across the breastplate. His face bore scruff. He was covered in the blood of a Frenchman. He was beating people with a laptop and a stabbing with a syringe. Keep Austin Weird, I guess.

He used his masterful time trial technique to catch the truck. The driver exited the cab with a shotgun. Stupid zombies: it seemed all too obvious that the guy in the hick-ass truck would have a shotgun, the most effective anti-zombie weapon (according to the history archives of Hollywood). One blow rendered poor Floyd Landis headless. The inaccuracies of the archives started. We should have slowly approached the redneck, allowing him time to kill us all as we attacked one at a time. Unfortunately for him, we just pounced all at once and ate his brain. I usually don't choose to eat brain, but there was this peer pressure to assimilate.

Kevin Bacon, riding around with Lawrence Fishburne until an old clunker killed Fishburne, was busy trying to kill the driver of the clunker. He eventually lured the guy to drive off an unfinished overpass.

With a belly full of brain, the effects of the PBR were weakening. I gathered myself and started to ride back to the last place I saw Ruben. When I eventually found my friends, I was sad to discover that they had sobered from their zombie state too early. Fred, the son of the lady with an i-Phone in her eye, had eaten both their brains. Fred was now sober. I kicked Fred's ass and got the hell out of Austin for a few days, as things were getting way too strange for me.

Remember the TV show "Renegade"?

2010-02-21T21:49:00.003-06:00

Sorry to take such a long break. I am sure it will continue for another two years, roughly.

Sorry to not segue into another episode of bike zombies, as I am sure the first installment was riveting...

I have struck gold. Lorenzo Lamas is still the super high quality actor I remember.

Megashark vs. Giant Octopus

If I were you, I would go to YouTube and spend the next 30 minutes researching this piece of cinematic history. I have been spending the last 30 minutes doing just that.

Survival of the fittest! (pt 1)

2010-01-17T10:38:00.005-06:00

One day I was minding my own business, just pedaling along the roads in Austin. I was in the right lane of a multilane one-way street, going to a pub to meet a few friends. For the first time in as long as I had been riding around the area, the traffic was light. More specifically, the traffic was getting lighter as I came nearer my destination. When I got within a mile of the bar, there were no cars at all. I had no idea why. I decided to take advantage of this opportunity to partake in some celebratory riding. With the roads open and free, I rode unencumbered across all the lanes and zig-zagged from one curb to the other. The roads were strangely quiet. Too quiet.

Then, I saw another bike rider doing the same thing. I called out to him, "Hey, this is great. Where are all the cars?" He responded with, "Dunno. I feel safe today. Like nothing could go wrong." I knew at that precise moment that my world was about to turn over on top of me. I knew this because in a fictional short story, the only thing that could possibly follow that comment would be the zombie apocalypse.

I asked the strange bike rider's name. He responded, "Pee Wee Herman, at your service." Should have recognized the bike, I guess. Anyway, I gave him my name and we started a conversation about strange rules in movie theaters. "They'll kick you out for bringing in outside candy, you know," I said.

"That's tough, man. Cinemas are getting pretty strict nowadays," he responded with a very uncomfortable look on his face. The weird silent portion of our conversation started at this point.

I tell him that I am on my way to a bar to meet some friends, and he should join me. Pee Wee informs me that he regrettably has to bow out. "You see," he said, "that bar is ground zero for all the bike zombies."

I started to regret having this conversation with the stranger. I bid him farewell and told Pee Wee to ride safe. He turned off the road to keep his distance after I insisted that I didn't believe him and would continue to meet my friends at the 'ole watering hole.

Soon enough, I was at the meeting grounds. The bar we were meeting at was a popular hangout for cyclists. Ample bike parking was provided at this bar. The owners knew that cyclists in a hot Texas Summer would be thirsty. Hipsters in New York all seem to drink Pabst Blue Ribbon. In Austin, the tight-pant wearing fixed-gear freestylin', indie rock listening, ironic t-shirt wearing hipsters drink PBR as well. It is their call to a unique identity as part of a big group of conformist individuals... wrapped in a burrito of irony and contradiction.

The bike racks were over filled. People had begin locking their cycles to trees and railings and other bikes that were already locked up. Other bikes were just sitting around unlocked. I figured that everybody was going for a ride because the streets were empty. They all just got thirsty at the same time.

The two buddies I was meeting were already sitting at the bar. Their names were Paul and Ruben. Paul had ordered me a Lone Star. It is uniquely Texan. For some reason, the bar tender looked a little pale. Actually, he was a creepy whitish-gray hue. As a matter of fact, after taking a look around, I noticed that everyone in the building was the same color. Also, everyone's eyes were vacantly bugged, like staring down a shark at the aquarium. The barman brought us three PBR's. It was not what we ordered, but he told us they were all he had, and on the house. Since we were surrounded by hipsters (we deny all accounts that we could possibly be hipsters, so that we can make fun of others without lumping ourselves into the same group), we decided "when in Rome..."

After finishing the can of crappy beer, I started to feel funny. I looked over to Paul and Ruben. They looked a little gray. I looked down to my hands, just like on movies when a character is undergoing a change he/she doesn't understand.

(until next time)

Pidgeon-Holed!

2010-01-09T18:08:00.003-06:00

I am just like any other Cycling fan in the online community. It has come to my attention that Dr. Christopher Thompson received his sentencing yesterday. If you are not familiar with this person, he is a man who drove his vehicle in front of two cyclists and stopped. The resulting collision injured both of the cyclists. The Velonews.com website covered the trial in depth, then also covered the sentencing hearing by sending a reporter to sit in the courtroom for the whole dog and pony show. If you search creatively, you can find all the stories. Spend some time on the website, and you may learn something about your favorite bike racer, as well.

The good Dr. received 5 years for his crime and never be allowed to drive again. The source I got my information from is understandably biased (You wouldn't expect me to get my news from Cycle-hating facebook groups, would you?) The Velonews.com website allows for reader comments. They are -generally- biased in favor of the bicycle riding victims. There are a lot of comments that say 5 years is not long enough. Also, it is requested that the 60 year old convict should be raped repeatedly (repeated requests for repeated rapings).

Here's my take:

The punishment works. First, he goes to jail. He's so old that if you make him go to jail much longer, you run the risk that he will die there. If he dies in jail for assault, what ever will we do with the guy who uses his car to kill people? Second, he loses his driver's license forever. I am not sure, but I assume the judge's ruling only extends to California's borders. If somehow, this ruling can be interpreted to mean that Thompson can never legally drive again nationwide; I consider this an appropriate success. It is vengeful to wish the man be raped, but the "no more driving for you" part is very appropriate. He has proven that he shouldn't be trusted with a motor vehicle.

There are yet other consequences to be reconciled here. The victims can now open lawsuits against Thompson for monetary reconciliation. He will likely loose his medical license for life. He has probably already drained his bank accounts paying his defense attorney. His life is effectively shattered. His legacy is defined by a single action on a single day. His reputation now precedes him wherever he goes. That is the part of the punishment that will be hardest for Thompson to live with (it is forever).

The victims are, by now, on the fast track to resuming their life as before the incident. Maybe a little better-off financially (eventually). Maybe a little traumatized (maybe a lot). I have read no report that either of the two men who were injured suffered unrecoverable injuries. So long as these men can handle the mental aspect of surviving the incident , and maybe a little scarring; they are no worse-off than before this happened.

I'm gonna do my part and be cautious, attentive, and courteous when I travel. This should help keep me from having to deal with either side of this story first-hand.

Just click the links I post.

2010-01-06T20:53:00.002-06:00

Really, how could I steer you wrong?

Follow these instructions very carefully:

1. Go to a computer. You're already at one? good.
2. Make sure the speakers are turned on and the volume is at a comfortably audible volume.
3. Wait for your boss to walk by... if your boss has a good sense of humor. If this is not an option, just prepare yourself for some good ole fashion "Ren and Stimpy" comedy.
4. Click
5. Click anywhere in the screen. Repeated clicks will net slightly different results. All are good. Some are wet.
6. Enjoy. Share if you feel it is necessary. If you use Stumbleupon, you may already be enlightened.

Happy Day!

2009-12-25T12:22:00.002-06:00

A short note to wish all of my 10 (!!!) readers a happy holiday season. When I have more time to sit and write something good, I'll do so.

For followup; I restored a bike for my sister, made a bench for my wife's aunt, converted a hubcap to clock-dom, made a bunch of picture frames full of wedding photos for other family members, and bought the rest.

My cousin (who asked for a purple flying monkey for Christmas) will get a purple flying monkey if she plays her cards right. This is a white elephant gift, so she will have to maneuver correctly to win the PFM. It is a kite and a small painted monkey figurine (purple). Ingrid gave the figurine a scary/creepy smile when she painted it. I think this is a good thing.

The Holidays

2009-12-14T09:07:00.002-06:00

Well, as you all (the 3-4 readers I have) know, we are amidst a strange time of year where people cry about a weak economy while spending all the money they have a some that they don't. We buy toys, food, jewelry, clothes, and electronics. We buy lots of stuff. I am not immune to this. I love to give gifts. Sometimes I am able to put together something pretty special. Seeing the eyes of a grateful recipient is pretty great.

One year, I built a big dresser for my (not yet) wife. It was beautiful. It was more expensive than I expected. It was heavy, solid wood. It had cute knobs form a trendy store at the mall. She absolutely loved it. It was the best gift I ever gave her.

As a child, the extended family would get together and exchange gifts. We had one requirement...Build the gift. These are the best gifts to give, because they require effort. This, in turn, requires an investment of emotion. It makes the gift giver happier to give the gift. It also makes the receiver appreciate the gift. There is one more benefit to this method of gift exchange. It is usually less expensive. The dresser, although expensive, was way cheaper than buying one of similar quality and capacity.

Following are my favorite build-a-gift ideas from year past and years to come:

1. Build a dresser. It is hard. It is a huge investment in time. It is worth it.

2. Build an ornament to adorn the walls. I have seen coat racks and vanities with mirrors that look great.

3. Make lamps from found objects. Once, I mad a lamp out of a brake drum, a "scissor" jack (from a spare tire kit), a huge coffee can (lamp shade), and a lamp kit from the hobby store. It was really cool looking.

4. One year I received a table made out of a Chevy small-block V8 crankshaft (the center support for the table) and a flywheel for a manual transmission (the base) with a wood table top. This is still in my house, as a living room end-table and conversation piece.

5. Make a table using wood from Grandpa's barn. This is the table in my dining room. There is a checkerboard painted on top of it. It was given with a checker set. My wife covers the paint with a table cloth. I intend to strip/refinish the top someday.

6. I received a clock made from a hubcap of a Mercedes one year. It hangs in my living room today. I have used the "make a clock" idea to give gifts, too. One year, I made a clock that looked like the horseshoe logo for the Indianapolis Colts NFL team. The clock as a gift is great!

7. When I was young, woodworking was a popular medium for gift building. I made treasure boxes and safes frequently.

8. Ornamental key hook. My brother made this for my wife. It is made from a bicycle chainring and she hangs all her running medals from it. It is overloaded with medals, as she added another marathon medal to it yesterday. I think I have a couple bike race podium medals on there, too. (hate to toot my own horn... but toot toot!)

9. Pictures. Homemade frames help with the "made" aspect, but sometimes "assembled" will suffice. Family members always love to have a photo of your recent wedding to display in their house.

10. Restore a bicycle. If you (or a family member) finds a bicycle that is old, crappy, useless, and cool; you can take it and fix it up. It can be as simple as new tires and some grease. Once, my bro-in-law scavenged a bike from a trash-heap and gave it to me. It fits my wife, so I stripped and repainted the frame. Then I cleaned all the rust off of the wheels and fenders. I re-greased every bearing. I straightened the wheels. I re-built the shimano 3 speed transmission-hub and invented a gear selector (caveman tech. you have to stop and change gears, because my LBS can't find a way to order that shifter). I replaced the chain, brakes, cables, and seat. I added a big wire basket. Now she rides the "blue panda" whenever we go to our favorite local restaraunt. I will reuse the bike restoration as a gift again someday.

There are other ways to celebrate the holidays, though. My good friend and libations connoisseur, Hiram Walker, gives his family the name of a charity in his good graces. Instead of getting gifts from his brother, sister, or mother; he provides them with a charity and instructs to donate on his behalf. Elija Craig still hasn't donated.

My livestrong 2010 page is not up yet, but will be soon.

Wheat

2009-12-02T09:45:00.004-06:00

I love to eat. I really love to eat. If you have ever spent time with me around a table, you are aware that I am the guy that seems to have a bottomless appetite. My friends all pass their left-over food down the table to me. My mother cooks extra food when I am in town. Until recently, my favorite foods include the following list:

1. All

I love my wife more. She suffers from a horrible condition called Celiac Disease. We self-diagnosed her about two years ago. Over the past two years, I have taken her out only to restaurants where there was something gluten-free on the menu. Sometimes the only option for her is a salad...no croutons. Even creamy dressings like ranch have wheat risks. Fast food places are dangerous. Usually, the only things on the menu here without a bun or breading are french fries and brown salad. Here's the catch with those fries. When you order chicken strips at the local choke-n-puke, they drop those breaded chicken strips into a fryer vat. Some of the breading stays in the oil. When they drop the fries into that same oil, there is a risk that trace amounts of glutenous residue gets fried into the potatoes. My wife has gotten sick from french fries before.

Her family came to visit us over the Thanksgiving holiday. We made an all gluten-free feast. Cornbread stuffing, etc. It was wonderful. The problem is, it was the single gluten-free anomaly of the whole weekend. There were a plethora of comments equating gluten-free alternatives as "taste-free". Her family makes few concessions to her dietary needs, because my wife is selfless and accommodating. She insists that others should not be inconvenienced because of her. As such, when they all go out to breakfast together they go to places with names like "My Favorite Muffin" and "Einstein Bros. Bagels". These are places that don't have a single entree that my wife can eat. She cried one night (after a family breakfast outing), because she feels alone.

The funny part:
The page that I linked you to above (here it is again) states that celiac disease is hereditary. That means she "got it from her momma". Her mother and aunt will claim to the death that they suffer from IBS, not celiac. They refuse to even try a week of gluten-free to see if their conditions improve. Click the IBS link, it has similar symptoms as celiac. The difference is that IBS is stress induces the symptoms, not wheat. Once, a doctor told my wife that IBS was the "safety-net" diagnosis. Doctors would test for known diseases and assign an IBS diagnosis when other tests come back negative.

Support system:

My wife needs more than just simple restaurant accommodations from me. I should be her biggest supporter. She is out of town this week for work, and I am getting rid of all the wheat in the house (by gorging and feasting, mostly). Beginning Friday, I will be on a lifelong gluten-free diet alongside my wife. This means no donuts, no beer, no pizaa, no bread, no crackers, no Wheat Thins as happy hour appetizers. Except, I am OK in the kitchen. I will make plenty of gluten-free dough for pizza, bread, bagels, and maybe doughnuts. Beer will be missed, but I also love Wine, Cider, Whiskey (and all whiskey substituants), and Tequila. I am one of those idiots who puts good tequila in a tumbler glass and sips it straight, as if it were bourbon.

I have my own selfish reasons to support my decision. They are much less heavily weighted than "support my wife, whom I love dearly". My sister has tried gluten-free to test for food allergies. We both suffer from adult-acne. It seems that wheat allergies rear their ugly heads as skin conditions, including cistic acne. It seems that allergies can be hereditary. The wheat-free diet has helped her skin. Maybe it will help mine.

Also, all the easily attainable wheat products are less healthy, highly processed junk. Basically anything from a fast-food place is made with high quantities of grease and white bread. Refined, bleached flour is an ingredient in white bread, doughnuts, breading batter, etc. It is basically all the crap left over after the wholesome parts of a wheat grain are removed. Replacing wheat with dietary fiber from oats, corn, and rice will improve the quality of my diet. Removing beer from my diet will help me keep my flat "schoolboy" stomach that I will never actually have. I'll cook at home more and eat out less. It will even save money.

For myself and for my wife, I am changing the way I eat forever. Starting Friday. Today, I am going to have a box of wheat thins and two beers to get rid of the leftover wheat in my house. I'll probably just throw the bagel away.

Perserverance

2009-11-30T10:24:00.004-06:00

Lately, I have been lazy. I write less. I slack off on schoolwork. I procrastinate. I run less. Most notably, I ride my bike less.

It has been a week since I ride to work. I have ridden to school regularly, except for the recent holiday break. There is a big reason I haven't ridden to work, though:

Last Tuesday, on my way to work, I had an experience. Usually I am just going along and there is animosity between very alert drivers that feel a sense of entitlement to the roads. I am actually OK with this, because drivers that are angry with me are only angry after they have noticed that I am on the road. Tuesday, I heard the one noise that scares all cyclists more than any other noise.

SCREECH!

The driver was a woman, middle aged and maybe 5.4 feet tall. She was peering over the steering wheel of a 3.5 ton Chevrolet truck. I looked over my shoulder after I heard the screeching of her tires when she applied emergency braking. She was lass than two yards from my rear tire. She was white as a ghost. She waved apologetically. Had it taken her a half-second longer to notice that I was using that lane, I would have been smote. Just a red streak on the pavement, waiting for rain to wash me away.

I almost lost my life at the hands of a person who had no intentions to hurt anybody. She was not angry. She was not trying to bully me off of the road. She simply decided not to take her responsibilities seriously enough that day. It was not a conscious decision, but it happened. I am not invisible. I do not just "jump out of nowhere".

That day, I let my wife come get me from work in her car. I used the excuse "we need to shop together for some Thanksgiving ingredients". I have not ridden to Austin along those roads since. I have driven my truck to work. I have calculated how much the fuel would cost to continue this trend. I'll still ride to school, because those roads are low-traffic/low speed-limit. I will search for different ways to get to work, so I can resume riding.

My current route has a section where there is a 65mph speed limit (effective 75 mph zone for Texas driving habits) with no shoulder. I get buzzed every day on this section. The gravel trucks are the most frightening. The angry/oblivious drivers are the second most frightening. If I can find a way to replace this section of road, I will gladly resume riding to work. I am not concerned if this adds two miles or so to the trip. It will be worth it.

Strangely, the incident where the woman almost killed me was not in this scary and dangerous section of my trip. It was in Austin proper. I was on a four lane street in the city with a 40mph speed limit (effective 75 mph zone for Texas drivers). There was no other traffic around me. I was alone on the road in bright late-morning daylight. Even after this instance, I am more scared of the shoulder-less section of farm-road. I can't avoid absent-minded drivers. If they are going to kill me, I will be unable to see it coming (I promise, if I see it coming, I'll just avoid it).

Maybe I will get the nerve to ride to work this week. As I write this, I seem to be gaining some of my boldness back. Not all. I am still terrified of cars. The bullying techniques of these drivers works well on me. I am scared. I will have to be strong, though. I am riding to school today (after telling my wife that I planned on driving). After that, I have to decide whether to ride to work tomorrow. That trip to Austin is gonna be stressful. I know it is mostly a mental block, but I am still coming to terms with what I have interpreted as a very close call. I am not quite ready to become a martyr for the bicycle world. There are already many of those, and their stories haven't changed the safety levels of our roads at all.

Be safe out there, no matter how you choose to get around.

The Pain Cave - or - How to enjoy the less enjoyable parts of cycling.

2009-11-18T11:55:00.006-06:00

I was on a bike ride one day. It was a big organized group thing. I had been introduced to a man through a mutual friend. We began talking about this and that, regular cyclist small talk can be assumed. He was a little smug, though all cyclists are.

For that matter, cyclists (especially cyclo-commuters) are more smug than hybrid-car owners. We tend to joke about choking on the horrible emissions from Prius tailpipes. We are outraged that city Mass-transit authorities mount bicycle racks on their buses; more outraged when they are being used. No city is bigger than my cycling range, so what is wrong with this pseudo-cyclist who rides to the bus stop and then lets himself be carried around by the second scariest road-user in a city (The first being professional delivery driver. People carriers are second, including taxis and buses).

Anyway, this fellow and I are talking about riding in adverse situations and he made a comment about traffic. He made another about distances. He made a third about weather. He made another comment about road conditions. It all summounted to make me believe that he was cyclist only when it is convenient. He had a French-Canadian pompoucycle. He made fun of another rider on a similar bike, because he wore matching French-Canadian pompoushorts and pompoushirt.

I made comments in response to his, thus the statement about us having a conversation. After I let it slip that I like to ride in adverse conditions, he made an enlightened statement:

"You like the pain cave, huh?"

I guess I do. I would have never thought of my cycling experience as a 'pain cave', but if the spelunking headlight fits...wear it. What exactly is a pain cave, you ask.

Imagine an adventure. You begin by getting out your gear, full of anticipation and excitement. You are going to go somewhere that maybe you have been to, but maybe not. You get to the cave entrance. It is big, open, welcoming. You begin pedaling hard because you feel great. This cave is awesome. Pedal harder, till just a little tingle of burn is in your legs and hold it there. As you get into the cave a little deeper, the natural light gets a little mroe restricted and tunneled. You reach for the spelunking headlight...the little bottle full of sugary water that turns up the light just a little.

Just then, you realize that you are indeed in a cave. This is punctuated by the bear that is trying to get to the honey in your water bottle. As he swats you in the behind, you realize what kind of cave it is. It's OK. Pooh is just after your honey. Your light is dimming again. Get more hydration. Put your head down and pedal a little harder.

A stalactite hits you in the neck while you are cranking hard in the drops. You have to sit up and relax your neck. Somehow this cave has a giant wind-tunnel fan in the other end; making you slow significantly as soon as you are upright. Also, this newly noticed headwind is not making it easy to keep your distance from Pooh.

Pooh, by the way, no longer looks like Pooh at all. He now looks like a bloodthirsty Grizzly. I guess it is time to get off the saddle and pick it up a notch. For a short time, you are able to ratchet up your pace easily and increase the gap to the cave-bear while keeping the cave-wind at bay. You grab another quick sip from your bottle.

Apparently, you have found a pain cave with underground water. It is dripping from the stalactites, hitting you in the eyes. The light in the cave is getting dimmer yet, and the water drops are cold. Pooh is closing again. The headwind is back. Your spelunking light is still going strong. The cave water must have a source, though.

As soon as that thought hits you, you are also hit by Pooh's big paw. It knocks you into the underground river alongside you. Ice, floating in the river, makes this situation even more fun. You gather yourself, bludgeoned and bloodied, from the river. Remount. It seems strange to you that the bear, the wind, and the flat tire that you just noticed only affect you while you are on the bike. The cold and the wet are permanent.

Permanent, that is, only until you get home and take a hot bath with your favorite floating toy. The bath salts will sooth the sores, scars, and tired muscles. The warmth will loosen and relax your whole body. The beer beside the tub will fix the trauma of getting punched by a bear. This cave of glorious pain has an end. If only you can get through it.

Your spelunking light, still shining, illuminates no exit from the cave yet. You are pedaling agian. Now, it seems that the harder you pedal, the stronger the wind gets. This, compounded with the flat tire and rubbing brakes (spontaneous adversities happen in the cave, if you haven't caught on yet), is making the bear swats pretty unpleasant. You need motivation. Eureka! I've got it. Music.

Some people listen to metal, because it increases their testosterone for intense bicycle efforts. Others like hard-hitting Techno beats or Hip-Hop, for the tempo and cadence. I have heard that many prefer to listen to happy music that distracts them from the cave, the way my mother would distract me from the nurse with the syringe right before I get stabbed in the rump. All of these methods are senseless and futile. There is one genre that does work. This is a lesson in attrition and tolerance. Find the song: the one song that annoys you to the breaking point. Pretend your little brother is making noises while crossing the line that you have drawn in the minivan's bench seat during a road trip. Your only possible solution is to lash out and fight! That song is the one you need. It is one genre of song that contains many genres of music. Maybe you hate country music. Maybe you are irritated by Taylor Swift. Maybe you have a problem with snippets of show tunes that you only remember two lines from the chorus of; and they get stuck in your head as you sing those two lines until it gets to the part you don't know, whence you mumble-hum a bit and repeat ad infinitum.

None of those are the right song, though. You know all the words to the right song for this occasion. There aren't that many. You need no player to recite it. Your breath is too strained to sing it, so you mouth it amongst your gasping for oxygen. Yes, folks, you are singing "The song that doesn't end" from Lambchops. This elicits a level of fury and rage that no other song can. You now have a new-found level of energy to get you through the pain cave.

Your singing/gasping has infuriated the bear. And the wind, somehow. The plan has backfired. Keep pedaling. More energy is now required to keep a slower pace. The cave is completely dark. Reach for you bottle and get a gulp. Your lamp is flickering. The oxygen deficit in the cave is astounding. It is hard to notice the flat tire and rubbing brake with all this sticky mud.

The bear swats again. This time, he drags his claws on the cave wall. The resulting sparks catalyze a fire on your thighs. That's a good burn. I love spelunking. Somehow, although you feel the fire, your path is very poorly lit. But wait, is that a twinkle of light in the distance?

Invigorated by the thought of an end to the cave, you ratchet up your effort. Amazingly, your pace slows. Not to be deterred, you focus on the light source and fight for your goals. In an effort to rekindle the light in your headlamp, you reach for your bottle. Drip. It is drained completely. You are closing in on the light, so you can't stop now. Don't let the pain cave beat you.

Wishing you had more drink, you slow your pace. You are no longer trying to outrun any of the adverse conditions, just survive them. Eventually, the light gets really close to you, and you give one last effort to get to the exit. You get to the light source. You get to the light source. It is not an exit. It is the peaceful end of a police flashlight. The officer asks you why the hell you are in the road. He knows it is not illegal, he just thinks you are stupid anyway. He lets you call for a ride home before introducing the back of your head to the other end of his flashlight.

Take a nap on the sidewalk and wait for your ride. You turn down offers from strangers in cars who try to give you their half-finished soda in a Wendy's cup. This seriously happened to me once.

On the way home, your ride stops to get you a couple hamburgers and three french fries. One curly, one conventional, and one steak/wedge style. At home you have a beer and a bubble bath with salts. You'll go back to the cave soon.

Accountable

2009-11-12T11:34:00.003-06:00

Accountability is something I have a strong opinion on. I am distraught when I discover hugely erroneous lapses in responsible actions. It is like pouring salt in the wound when there is no accountability following these situations.

People do things. Sometimes actions are intentional. Other times, there is an inadvertent cause/effect relationship occurring. It is unrealistic to expect that an unintended effect be without any consequences. Be careful with definitions: not all consequences are bad. I don't think that all accountability systems should involve punishment. There is a place for that kind of system. It works well as a responsive system for undesirable actions. There are also positive reinforcement systems, where accountability is used to recognize a desirable action. This would include getting a paycheck for doing your job acceptably.

One recent situation that displays a failed accountability system is HERE. This disgusts me on two bold fronts:

1. The driver decided not to take the task of driving seriously that day. He got into his truck. He started it. He drove ABOVE the speed limit. He lost focus on the top priority (safe driving). He left the roadway. He over-corrected. He took two lives. He had absolutely no intentions of hurting anybody. He feels horrible and has to live with the guilt from now on. He goes home without even a traffic citation for 'speeding', 'failure to maintain lane position', 'unsafe passing', 'unsafe driving', or any other infraction that may be interpreted from this situation.

A little girl is now an orphan. Two people are dead. A retired man has to come out of retirement to provide a home for the child. Two families loose their son/daughter/sister/brother/uncle/aunt.

2. The Bexar County Sherrif's office failed to assign responsibility. This is their job. If the police cannot enforce a law, it is their job to enforce the consequences of breaking that law. It should not matter whether or not the perpetrator intended to break the law. Lives were cut short, and if no laws had been broken, the status quo would not have changed. Other than the personal email I sent to the sherrif's office, I am not aware that any repercussions have been levied to hold the sherrif's office accountable for their own lapse in responsibility.

A little girl is an orphan. Two people are dead. All parties involved have a level of responsibility and not all parties are willing to accept them.

When I am getting into my truck (ironically, a Ford F150), I conciously accept the responsibilities associated with it. It weighs 3 tons. It esily goes 85+ miles an hour. I'm not gonna do the math, but the consequential impact that is potential here is huge. It is my responsibility to maintain control of this vehicle, at risk of taking lives and destroying property. Anybody in my vehicle, anybody near my vehicle; all these lives are my responsibility. All I have to do is not collide my 4-wheeled missile with them. People are bothered when I choose to drive the speed limit (or less). People say that bicyclists, walkers, scooterers, and motorcyclists would all be safer if they just drove cars instead. These are the same people who choose to ignore that it is their own responsibility to keep all other road users safe.

On October 1, the pickup driver decided that something was more important tham driving safely. He made this decision despite the fact that he continued driving. When he signed for his driving liscense, he acnowledged all of the responsibilities I have mentioned. He should be held accountable, even though it was an unintended cause/effect event.

The sherrif(s) at the scene did not assign any responsibility to the driver. They did not hold him accountable for the responsibilities that they are paid, and sworn to enforce. Nobody has held these officers, or the department accountable, either.

Accountability can be used appropriately, too. In the town I grew up in, a man was beaten to death. This happened just down the same street as the home of member of my family. The perpetrators did not intend to kill the victim. They did kill him, though. They have been charged with murder. This is appropriate. There are more parties involved in this story where accountability systems have failed miserably, though. Murderors don't just happen, they are made. It is an "unintended" effect, usually. Ever hear about a killer that grew up in a stable home, employing appropriate assignment of responsibility and accountability? Nope.

I personally know the man who held his dying friend in his arms. August had to watch his friend breathe his last breath. Why? August knew that his responsibilities were to stop the fight without beating a youth. He knew he would have been held accountable for bludgeoning a 16 year old boy, even if it was in defense of his friend. August tackled 4 boys without throwing a punch. He was not in time to stop the death of his friend, who received blows from a hammer. Why did the boys beat a man with a hammer? The man was trying to hold them accountable for recless driving, because various reports to police about this problem had not been addressed by the authorities. The cycle continues.

Next post will be a little more lighthearted, I promise.

Exploring

2009-11-11T09:37:00.002-06:00

The beauty of having a bicycle is playing a game I call "Columbus". Do not confuse this with a commercial about being "…like Magellan, I'm so gellin'." It is called playing Columbus, and is definitive. Monday, I was so inclined to modify my trip home from school, because I had time to kill and beautiful weather to enjoy. Also, I had a mission.

I am trying to start a mass migration. I want to stay in the beautiful hills of the republic. I miss my friends and family (selections) from the 'Big D', however. My first mission: get the siblings here. If I get the siblings here, I have my tight knit family members close. These are the ones I can stand in the yard and drink beer with. They all enjoy a good bike ride. This is good for my relationships with them, as we can ride together and also get thirsty for beer together. Or bourbon, or scotch, or rum, or Dr. Pepper.

Step One: B+D – sis + bro in law

These two are in a "new location" phase in their lives. Although this is not a rare state for them, they are giving clues that they want to find settlement. Their gypsy nomadic ways are wearing them down. They are ready for space. Space they can modify and paint. Space they can be happy with. Space without shared walls. My mission is to help facilitate their quest. I intend to limit my searches to areas in close proximity to my own space. Let's play Columbus.

I took the scenic route home in an attempt to find houses that fit their criteria. Main criterion: for sale. ( use plural only when necessary) I took pictures of houses and for sale signs, then emailed them along through the appropriate channels. I'll forgo boring you all with that part. I took other pictures, though. These are the true Columbussy part of the adventures. Unlike many explorers of the new world, I partook in no genocide. The weather was nice, so my trail had no tears. All scalps stayed intact.

I went to a neighborhood with an artist's house. He wasn't selling it, but there were two houses for sale and one for rent in this 'hood. He made yard art. It seems he likes to use shimmery half-shiny sheet metal mixed with shiny whirly spinny things. He also likes the cosmos. Actually, I think he likes the cosmos so much it is creepy. I guess all artists are creepy about whatever they are most influenced by.

I went by his garage. He was hard at work. He had a helper wielding a welder (MIG, for those of you interested). He had a Miata with a vanity plate, along with other vehicles. If you look closely, you'll see a telescope on his back deck aimed at the heavens.

I stopped and talked with a mail carrier. Many mail carriers use right-hand-drive vehicles. This one just operated a normal Chevy PU from the passenger seat. He had his left foot reaching across the truck and operating the pedals. He drove with his left hand. I was both impressed (by the fact that he truck had no crash damage) and fearful for my life. He was a nice guy.

I traveled back to my main thoroughfare. In case you were wondering, the roads are a little safer lately. Old Stagecoach Rd. has a decently low 2.5 PFDF, including the sublevel 2D(eer):

I then went north, towards my home. I checked out some of the older roads near Kyle, TX. There were certified organic farms. They had signs prohibiting pesticide overspray. Judging by the houses, either organic farmers are self depreciating or the business is a tough one. There were places with signs reading "exotic sheep, keep out". I guess you need Government registration and special signs to keep exotic sheep nowadays. There was a place that sold signs. Although there were signs outside to indicate the business, I was massively underwhelmed. Where's the neon? The billboard sized picture of some bikini-clad drunk chick? The sign integrated with taxidermy? If you want to get to the big leagues, you have to bring your 'A' game. This road was called Opal Rd. It has a very comforting and low PFDF of 1. Sublevel 1C(oyote):

Foxes are the sly ones. Back in my motorcycle days, I almost chopped one of these in half.

Please note my incredible ability to click off a picture of dead animals from a moving bicycle. It should be a sport in the safari Olympics. I'm still working on the whole "picture of the photographer's shadow" problem.

The lesson to learn here is that playing Columbus is a great way to discover new areas. That and how to immortalize dead animals (now that's hipster ironic).

How to be a cycling fan – or – What cycling pro to root for

2009-11-08T23:28:00.002-06:00

Before I was a follower of professional cycling, I would turn on the Tour de France and only know one pro. It so seems that he is the same one you know. So this post is to address the question, "Which pro cyclist is deserving of my fan-ergy?" What you are about to read is the cycling version of my favorite shopping-mall social watching game, "What kind of dog is that person going to reincarnate as?" Just answer the following questions honestly, and you may find your new favorite:

Do you like Swiss chocolate? Would you rather have your guitar amp go to 11? Do you perform at your very best when flying solo? If so, you may be a fan of Fabian Cancellara, world TT champion. This guy probably generates as many watts as some small powerplants. He is fastest when he is going alone, on a bike with deep section wheels, wearing a sperm-shaped helmet. Never be adversary to a man in a sperm-shaped helmet.

Are you tired of all the old guys winning races? Is manorexia sexy? Do you like small, obscure places? If you answered yes to these questions, you would likely appreciate Andy Schleck. Although only 24, Andy has been a pro rider since 2005. He has won "best young rider" in the Tour two years consecutive. He finished second in the Giro d'Italia in 2007 (where he also earned the best young rider award). He is 6'1 and 140lb. He's from Luxembourg, a country so small (999 sq.mi.) you could fit it into the county I live in.

Are you the god of thunder? Do you look good in green? Do you prefer your bike to be aerodynamically shrouded in French (edit: French-Canadian...even worse - thanks TC) pompousness? Do you look like an intimidating descendant of Vikings? I recommend checking out Thor Hushovd. Thor is a Norwegian pro with serious sprinting power. He has been seen throwing lightning bolts into competitors' spokes.

Do you shoot pretend bullets from your fingertips? Can you scale a mountain like a billy-goat on speed? Are you prone to making impulsive decisions at work, regardless of your co-workers' plight? Check out Alberto Contador. This guy is pretty young, yet he's won all three grand tours (that French one twice, even). He has a history of making bold decisions during races that impress some while ostracizing others. At the same time, he also has a lot of "keep it cool" attitude towards the media (unlike some other top-caliber pro cyclists).

Like throwing fits (and koala's) and fists? Always second best? Do you cry when you finally win? Do your feelings get hurt easily? You are a fan of Cadel Evans, from Australia. I'm kidding. Nobody is a true fan of Cadel Evans. He may have fair weather followers, but he is a whiny baby that could learn a big lesson from a little league soccer team about gentlemanly conduct.

Lets say you are the kind of person who likes to watch formula one. Serious speed is all that matters, and the winner of a race is defined very simply for you as "first across the line". When not on a bike, you like your favorite rider to have a big grin reminiscent of a fun-loving child. I recommend Mark Cavendish. Nicknamed the "Manx Missile" and sometimes referred to as the fastest man on a bike, Cav is a finish-line specialist. Also, Mark has a good reputation for being friendly with his team and giving credit where it is due. He is the first to admit that he gets wins through the effort and sacrifice of his teammates.

What about the American patriot, you say? Is every cyclist worth watching hail from a strange, exotic, European place?

Nope.

Say you bleed red, white, and blue. You'd even put Captain America on your wheel if you could. Furthermore, you are tired of pro athletes being uptight. Dave Zabriskie is your man. The U.S. TT champion is laid back and very funny. He also has a line of chamois lubricant called "DZ's Nuts" (for those readers less cycling savvy, this is a product that gets smeared all over your most gentile sections of skin to prevent chafing).

Captain America a little too far? You like an American that is exotic and sexy? A true representation of how diverse our great country is? Are your favorite heroes the ones that selflessly give themselves to help others achieve glory? The ultimate team player can be found in American rider George Hincapie. He has won plenty on his own. Many of his fans remember him for what he has accomplished for his own trophy case. It is fact, though, that he was there to help another famous American cyclist achieve the top podium spot in the Tour de France on many occasions. He was also recently known for his great ability to help set up the finish line leadout for his Columbia HTC teammate, Mark Cavendish. He is a first generation American. His father is from Columbia.

If you were too lazy to click the links I included here (and maybe even google the name of one that sounded most interesting), continue rooting for Lance. He is the lazyman's favorite, as media swarm wherever he goes and he is individually responsible for bringing cycling into many American homes each year.

If you are a grouchy curmudgeon, nobody will ever live up to the glory that Eddy Merckx and Fausto Coppi brought. They were dominant in ways that modern cycling hasn't seen in a while.

Hey Sniffles, Can I Get You a Tissue? (why cycling is good for your health)

2009-11-04T23:44:00.002-06:00

[Prescript – Prepare yourself for a good read today. It might get a little narrative.]

The debacle has subsided for a week. Since Sunday, the Texas Hill Country has been uncharacteristically beautiful (lows=50s highs=70s). I am confused by having 7 days of perfect-ish weather continuously. I posit that this confusion applies to more than just myself, and can culminate in both cognitive and biological symptoms.

As a university student, and I attend classes regularly. (I am fully aware that I just pigeon-holed myself into a category of student that is not typical of contemporary college students.) In one class, a fellow scholar was also confused by the weather. Where I was mostly confused on an intellectual level (not sure if I should bring a weatherproof parka and wool hat, just to be safe…or maybe wear no shirt to stay prepared), he was confused biologically. With debacle season in full swing, none of my classmates (nor I) had been plagued by extremely obnoxious runny noses. Suffice to say – I'm sure the title gave me away here – that streak of quiet classrooms has been replaced with a streak of annoying mucus and phlegm.

Through all the cold, rain, wind, heat, and cold/hot windy/raininess; Sniffles had no nickname. I don't know his real name. On Monday, this all would change. He chose the seat across the aisle from me. He had a pink nose. You know, the stage preceding a horribly chapped upper lip/nostril area; that is only caused by excessive nose blowing. He sniffled. Actually, he snorted very loudly. It was the kind of snort that made me imagine bringing a 22oz lime flavored, body-temperature, sticky, slimy Squishy into my sinuses. This move successfully kept Sniffles from dribbling enough snot onto his shirt to have a slip-n-slide problem, but it had its repercussions. Now, the Squishy was on its way into his trachea/throat. Sniffles had to act quickly. He decided the required response was to execute a loud, vocal, guttural throat clearing. The cherry was a cute little cough at the end for punctuation. This was his established runny-nose routine. I soon realized Sniffles was well practiced in his symphony of sickness. About every minute, each of the three steps was repeated. He was louder than the professor, who politely ignored the racket.

At first, I felt sorry for the guy. I have been the guy with the sniffles before. I don't like missing lectures. Before it was time to leave though, Sniffles had transitioned into my nemesis. My younger brother (who I love to be around lately), trapped in his button-pushing 8-year old state had been reincarnated in this sniffling guy. I am more patient than when I was eleven, though. I did not immediately punch him then whine to Mom. I slowly transitioned into my hatred. Logically, there was a long "limbo" period where I wanted to get him a tissue so he would get it out of his system and quiet himself. I realized he would probably scream or shriek during his nose-blowing sessions, as evidenced by his sniffling technique. I just turned angry, distracted, and gave him a scornful glare when he wasn't looking. My ADD self counted roughly 70 symphonies, while retaining nothing about the reactions of carbonyl compounds.

Why Cycling is Good For You!

I am quite certain that it is no coincidence how long it has been since I have experienced sickness. I have been to the doctor ZERO times in the last three years. My illnesses over that time have included two bouts of allergy attacks and one instance of food poisoning. Avoid the Brazilian Breakfast with shredded chicken. I don't attribute my health to cycling alone. I eat pseudo-healthy. I drink lots of water and (antioxidant-rich) juices. I limit my fat intake (sometimes). I am active with running, kayaking, and lazily floating in rivers. All of this is catalyzed by my bicycle addiction, though. I eat healthy because if I don't, I'll lose energy on my bike (same with drinking lots of water and juices). I do other stuff to try to (falsely) convince my wife that biking doesn't consume me (believe me, we've fought over it). Also, mixing my activities a little makes sure my legs don't go in perfect circles when I walk.

Without cycling, I would still weigh 40 pounds more than I do today (maybe more). I would still get some huge sickness annually. I would still feel generally crappy on a regular basis, due to both my diet and my sedentary lifestyle. I say "still" because there was a point in my life where I let health and physical activity slip to a back-burner. I hope to never go there again. I like not feeding our broken healthcare system. I like waking up and being able to use my "sick days" to pay attention to my wife. I like me the way I am now. I credit bicycling with a lot of that. I also credit bicycling with my ability to overcome my focus issues. I am FAR more successful in school this time (2^nd try…) than the first attempt at college. I'm not saying that the world would be better if everyone rode a bike, but I am saying that a lot of my problems were solved with athleticism. I am not the first case of this either.

Not to say that I don't imagine a utopian society that involves a lot of bike riders…

2009 Livestrong Challenge

2009-10-26T16:33:00.004-05:00

I just finished a great weekend.

This past weekend was the livestrong challenge. It was basically a big festival of fun to celebrate the hard work of participants in a fund-raising effort for the LAF. I tried my best to entice people to donate. Next year, I'll have to get more bold.

I was a part of Team Fatty - Fighting like Susan. TC came back down after a great pre-ride to repeat the glory that is hill-country bicycling. We even got my wife involved. the three of us did the 5k run on Saturday morning. We all had great finishing times. Later, we would find out that the 5k was literally a 4.4k. I maintain that my personal best time (which I set that day) remains intact - regardless of these technicalities.

That afternoon was the Team Fatty meet-n-greet at a place in Austin with a big patio. I had a terrible margarita made mostly with sweet-n-sour mix and not much lime juice or tequila. Ick. I got to meet some of the other team Fatty members, along with our team patriarch....also called Fatty. He has his own blog, in case you weren't aware. This was followed by a trip to some random bike shop owned by a random professional-retired-unretired bike rider. Take a guess, we were in Austin. I'm not gonna name or link to it.

That evening, I got to be TC's +1 for the LSC Banquet. Entry was exclusively limited to $3,000+ fundraisers. Fatty spoke (quite funny I might add). Other team leaders spoke. Lance Armstrong spoke. Doug Ullrich (CEO of the LAF) was the ringleader. We ate decent food. Team Fatty posed for a picture with LA (who wore a Fatty jersey in the photo). LA had to have a random party planner hold his Michelob Ultra whole he posed (he is now sponsored by a beer company). I thoroughly enjoyed myself. Thanks for the ticket, TC.

Sunday was the ride day. TC, my wife, and I loaded the truck and left for the Dripping Springs start line very early. We arrived to find huge mass of people. Other Fatties met us by the breakfast tent (good team name) and we ate before the ride. We go to line up among the front groups at the starting gates, which means less crowd problems. By that I mean tons of people behind me wanted to race past my in a huge chaotic mass as soon as teh starting horn blew. I helped push another fatty out of the start gates while he got into his pedals before brigning my pace up. I had to pass all of the people who raced past me in the begining, but weren't prepared to maintain the speed they established. In Bike terms, we call that a "bonk". It is an onomatopoeia. They actually make a "bonk" sound when they run out of steam. It sounded like a european football riot where everyone was armed with "Bongo Bats".

I rode the 90 mile leg. My wife rode the 65 mile leg. She also got a flat. The various people offering to help her repair her flat failed repeatedly and she had four more before the fourth person (at the service station run by Bicycle Sport Shop...thanks guys) finally found the item causing the flat and removed it. It goes to say that, although I am gratetful to all the people who offered to help my wife fix her flat(s); why offer help if you are gonna screw it up? TC was intending on riding 90 miles and pulled a muscle. He rode 65 at a pretty fast pace, regardless.

I was alone and happy for about four hours of the ride.

Fatty rode the 65 as fast as he could, so he could be at the finish line to cheer on his teammates. Other Fatties congregated and cheered the finishers through the gates. Here's TC watching finishers with another fatty:

It was a blast. Ethan, if you are out there, I have a bike for you next year. B+D, I expect you guys to be there next year, too. If I did not address you individually, I still expect you to be there. It is a great event with participitation opportunities for all skill/athletic levels.

Usha

2009-10-21T09:29:00.003-05:00

I recently found out that a friend of mine has passed away. Cancer took Usha on October 1, 2009. I didn't find out until after the services had all come and gone. At some point (soon, I hope) I will go see her husband, Ethan and give him a big hug.

I originally joined the Livestrong challenge in support of Usha, and now I am going to ride in her memory. To date, my wife and I were able to raise almost $600 for the Lance Armstrong foundation. It is not much, but it is more than we could afford to give for ourselves. Every little bit helps. Next year, I'll see about upping the ante with my LSC fundraising.

Ethan, you are in my thoughts. I truly care about you and hope the world works in your favor from here on out. Never hesitate to call me for assistance. I'll always be availale (even if I'm a few hours away). Always remember to celebrate how great she was, and how much she changed your life in positive ways.

As for the rest of you, cancer is horrible. Since I am not an oncologist, I have to fight this disease by supporting the researchers at the "front" of the battles. I pledge today that I will forever support whatever cancer research organization convinces me they are doing the best job. Right now, that is the LAF.

Shameless plugs

2009-10-15T17:37:00.003-05:00

Later this month, I am going to be participating in the Austin, TX Livestrong Challenge. One of the fun little features of this is that I get to help raise donation money for the Lance Armstrong Foundation. I really think that this is a great way to do your part in saving the world, so go donate some money to the fight against cancer!

I am riding this year in support and honor of two good friends that I see entirely too seldom, Usha and Ethan. Usha has been battling cancer for a while now, and definitely is not deserving the cards she has been dealt. Ethan, her husband, is totally supportive. I only wish I could fill a similar role of strength and courage when faced with such a huge obstacle. Every dollar you donate helps develop new treatments and finance new studies that can possibly help people in Usha's position.

I am a part of a large team, trying to fight cancer as a small cog in a big machine. My team is "Team Fat Cyclist: Fighting Like Susan". This team was formed by Elden Nelson, the Fat Cyclist. He built the team to honor his wife, Susan. Between the team's formation and now, Susan has passed. Her battle with cancer was long and painful for the whole Nelson family, but Susan fought relentlessly. I can't describe her battle the way her husband can, but I can say she fought fiercely.

Fatty has become very popular and powerful over the last year, organizing the biggest (and highest grossing) Livestrong Challenge team in history. He uses his power to coerce large (and small) companies into positions where they can help his cause grow stronger. He has recently announced that there is an incentive for the donations. This means that for every $5 donated at this link, I get a chance to win a new bike. It is Fatty's way of doing two things: (1) driving up donations for the LAF, and (2) rewarding one lucky person for their fundraising/donating efforts.

I am happy to not win a bike at all, but I would really like to raise more money for the Lance Armstrong Foundation. Winning a new bike in the raffle wouldn't kill me though, so go donate now! Oh yeah, the bike comes with a little celebrity group ride. If I win, I get to go on a bike ride with a few VIPs (on my new bike).

Just in case you are not tired of seeing links to my Livestrong Donation Page, HERE IS ONE IN ALL CAPS. I realize that making a statement using all capital letters is obnoxious, but I want to beat this disease before it takes more lives. I need your help.

Discretion and Valor

2009-10-11T16:07:00.008-05:00

"Since discretion is the better part of valor, I vote we cut out the Dripping springs loop."

Wiser words hath not been spoken. They are the words of my good friend TC. We were wet and tired. We were having fun. We were not interested in too much more fun, as to avoid burning out. You all know what I am talking about; like when you eat the third hamburger in one sitting because the first two were so good. Like that.

TC is a legend. For those of you who aren't aware of his great achievements, they are many and varied. He is known in the bicycling world as the "First Fat Cyclist Tattoo" owner. In the car world, he in known as the leader of an elite group of exotic car owners. To his friends, he is known as TC. In short, TC is the man.

As a co-participant in the upcoming Livestrong challenge (Austin), we decided it would be fun to pre-ride the bike route two weeks before the real event. Weather forecast for Sunday Oct. 11 (as of Saturday Oct. 10): "Slightly cloudy, 0% chance of rain, 71 deg, Wind: N/NW 5-6 m/h". The weatherman gave me permission to go on a long bike ride, personally.

The Plan:
TC and two other friends were to meet me at Dripping Springs HS Sunday morning. We would then ride the 90ish miles of the LSC "century" route. TC +2 would drive Sunday morning from the Dallas area and leave after the ride to go home.

+2 both withdrew their intents to participate on Friday. There go our windscreens.

The Plan (b):
TC would drive out Saturday evening. We could get dinner and catch up. TC and I would ride an adjusted route of 111 miles starting at my house, completing the LSC course (different starting location), and returning to my house. TC would get a full nights sleep before riding his ass off. The weather would be perfect.

The Execution:
TC arrived as planned. We ate good local Mexican food. We cought up with each other. We slept a full night. We both woke up, sober and rested (Mexican food=Margarita), and on time. We made pancakes and ate well. While I was changing into my bike clothes, TC sat in the living room and listened to the rain start falling. He didn't drive out here for nothing, and it was a short shower (3 minutes). We began riding. It was 60 something degrees. At about mile 4, another light shower. This one stuck. At mile 45, there was a flat. I started the subsequent "flat break" (Bicyclists use anything as an excuse to take a break, but talk like it was an unwelcome hindrance. Actually, we are tired and now have an excuse to stop.) wet, but otherwise comfortable. By the time our 10 minute break was over, we were shivering. The rain hadn't ended and our bodies had begun recovering into "dine riding" mode. It was either 55-60 degrees, or -3; I can't recall the details.

At mile 60ish, TC spoke with all the wisdom and philosophy I wish I had:

"Since discretion is the better part of valor, I vote we cut out the Dripping springs loop."

This is the 20 or 30 most northern miles of our day's planned route. We hadn't planned for rain, because I didn't follow my own seasonal riding rules. We were having so much fun with all the chip-n-seal road surfaces and rain. We dared not spoil the surprises that the north loop had in store for us.

In the end, 84.5 miles. 81 were in rain. The temperature dropped during the ride from 60s to the low negative teens.

If you are going to be riding the LSC long ride, I have two words for you: River Road. You'll be glad you rode there.

The ride was promptly followed by hot showers and hot Vietnamese food.

sorry about the messy garage picture...roof+walls=dry.

TC, I'll see you in two weeks for a repeat. If it rains, we take the kyak instead.

Afterthought: Other great words of wisdom from TC include:

"Why did you aim for every puddle when you were pulling?"
My answer to him is simple. TC, I am immature and that was fun.

"AAARRRGH" (According to TC, this means "I'm gonna beat you to the top of this hill")
In HCC, this means "I am kinda tired now and my butt hurts from chip-n-seal road surfaces; so I have determined it is a good time to slow down, because TC agrees with my sentiments."

Fall in Texas

2009-10-08T11:22:00.002-05:00

I thought it would be an appropriate time to talk about the weather, since there happens to be weather every day. Also, this time of year, many fair-weather outdoors people come out of the woodworks. This heavily includes cyclists. Many people like to take advantage of the changing temperatures and get out of their caves for a leisurely ride.

Many like to brag about the fall climate in their locale, and post jealousy-inducing pictures. Twice.

I, however, live in Central Texas. We have some very distinct seasons here, though I choose to not use "conventional" seasonal naming practices:

Drought + Hot
This season takes up about 3-4 (sometimes 5-6, during warm years) months between late May-ish and sometime near mid-September. It involves periods of days (often at least a month-long) peaking above 100 degrees Farenheit. Rain is more of a myth. Water usage restriction notices come from the city. My HOA stops telling people that they are in violation of the "green lawn" rules, because the only people with green lawns are breaking the water-use restrictions. These are usually the result of the lakes all being 10-30 feet below optimal water levels. Prickly pears on cacti (there are plenty around here) are big and beautiful. Ripe for the picking, even. The ground cracks. My lawn feels and looks like unbaled hay. Once in a while, tehre is a short shower that lasts a few minutes. The ground is so dry this time of year that the rain does not even get absorbed, much like that old dish sponge that shrivels and hardens between uses. Generally, you should plan bicycle trips during this time to include 4 gallons of water per hour. Traveling north-nortwest is most efficient, as a slight "breeze" prevails from the southeast. "Breeze" is all realtive, and usually involves medium-sized trees breaking at the base of the trunk.

Cold front vs. Warm front Debacle
This climate happens as the drought is ending. Usually getting started around mid to late September, a cool front will blow through; bringing all the wonderful weather in double digits that require us Texans to don our heavy down parkas (mid 70s). This is always accompanied by plenty of rain to try to make up for the drought. Since the ground doesn't want to absorb any water in vain, we get flash flooding. TXDOT had to shut down a section of highway in Waco this year because water came above the road. This cool weather usually lasts for somewhere between 2 days and 1.5 weeks; then is immediately followed by 95 degrees with above 80% humidity. The weather man says it will rain every day. It won't. He tells you what temperature it will be. He is usually pretty close, if by that you mean "temperatures between freezing and boiling of water". You will begin to only believe half of what the weatherman says when planning your daily preparations. You'll pick the wrong half.

ex: Forecast from the weatherman for a day is "Cool, raining". If you choose to prepare for rain, it wil not rain, but it will be cold and windy. If you prepare for cold, it will be hot and raining. If you prepare for hot and dry, you're probably fine...until it starts hailing with tornadoes. Hail is usually about as mild as the breezes. Nothing to worry about.

Cool and pleasant+breeze
There is usually a week or two in late October (or maybe November) where there is honestly great Autumn-y weather. Our "breezes" are Texas-sized, though. Bike rides require increased effort for half the ride. The other half makes you feel like all that Drought+Hot training paid off with increased speed; then you change directions and realize where your extra leg power came from. When this season ends, Cold front vs. Warm front Debacle resumes. Cold front begins winning the war.

Cold-ish+North winds
This is November through february. Sometimes it rains. Sometimes it is legitamately cold. The next day it will be cool t-shirt weather. Plan all bicycle trips to go south-southeast for greatest efficiency.

Warm-front vs. Cool front Debacle
This is the transition period between Cold-ish+North winds and Drought+Hot. the key to this peiod is unpredictability. Some years it is very short, leading to longer periods of heat. Other years, it is late; meaning more cold-ish weather. Usually, it invloves the same badminton trend in temperature and wind direction as our other yearly debacle (you are the shuttlecock). I have just decided that the only way to be prepared for the Debacle seasons is panniers full of swimsuits, rainsuits, parkas, and a sail. Don't forget trailmix. There are varying amounts of precipitation to be expected here. At some point there will be a hail storm that destroys so many cars, the waiting que for the body shop will be multiple months. Many cars will be completely totalled.

Which brings us back to "do"! The drought season, while hot, is the most accepted and predictable.

A new find, plus the old ones.

2009-10-05T21:38:00.004-05:00

I just added a new blog to my blog list. I recommend checking them all out. I have decided that anyone who uses the rear hub from one of my bikes as their header picture is deserving of a good link. Cozy Bee Hive.

My sister's blog is great. Not particularly subject specific. It matches her eclecticism. Home on the Roam

Fat Cyclist is a blog about a guy who likes to be happy when faced with great challenges and adverse situations. A true hero and role model for anyone with the courage to experience what he has to offer.

BSNYC is anonymous and funny. He tactlessly tackles issues without really accomplishing anything other than make me laugh (and envy his writing technique).

The Boulder Report is another guy whose writing is very impressive. I get great enjoyment from his stuff. Along with the bike snob, he writes professionally for a bike magazine that is falling out of favor with me (seriously, I know bike riding helps handle stress. lay off).

Allergic to Life is by an old friend who is tirelessly looking for a new list of favorite foods. My wife can't eat anything with gluten, and her blog has some great recipes for people with food sensitivities.

Read and enjoy. I'll give you guys something interesting soon.

Race Report! Richardson Corporate Challenge

2009-10-01T09:53:00.002-05:00

Last weekend, my wife and I went on a little drive to Dallas for some good ole fashion bike racin'. The event was put on by the City of Richardson. The teams were representatives from Richardson business (my wife runs a regional office in the hills for one of these companies). The race course was a 15K (10 mile) set up like team time trial meets individual time trial. 4 fast times from each team went into the total "team time".

Last year, I had a rabbit to chase. By this, I mean that I tried to keep up with him last year and was beaten by the time I started rolling. He was out of sight by mile 3. Last year was dropped so hard that I lost energy and slowed down. A teammate came by and I picked up his wheel for a recovery. At the finish I had a sprint in me, so I went out strong.

This year, the rabbit was not there. I started strong, and discovered that I had become the rabbit for the teammate I rode with last year. We took turns pulling and caught a LOT of other competitors that had left before us. In the last leg, There was a guy in full Cervelo outfit riding his expensive Cervelo bike. He had left almost a minute before us. We passed his ass and finished strong. I had 1/2 of a sprint left in me for the finish.

RESULTS
Last year - 22:58 (min:sec)
this year - 22:36

Here's the problem, though. I am pretty sure that this year I came in closer to 22:20, but there is no way to change the official results. I just want to brag that I might have improved more than the numbers show.

Our team came in second place in it's category. Individually, I was 3rd (of 13) for my age/gender category - 27th overall (of 338).

I'll do better next year, I hope. I hope to train for a big result.

Up next: Ligestrong challenge (not a race) century (100 miles).

Which one am I?

Riding bikes and Saving cash

2009-09-30T09:29:00.004-05:00

I like to tell people that I save lots of money by riding my bike everywhere. I buy gas less frequently. I have to perform maintenance on my vehicle less frequently. I don't buy parking passes for the university parking lots.

My vehicle is a pickup truck. C'mon give me a break, I'm Texan. In complete blasphemy (for a texan truck owner) I have a full-size truck with a V-6 (base model) engine. It is easier on gas than a "super-mega duty with hemispherical combustion chambers" V-8, or a (insert perverted name - Power Stroke, Cummins, etc.) deisel, but not by a huge amount. I still have to drive extremely conservative to obtain 17-19 miles to the gallon during regular daily - read: not highway - use. Since I live 20 miles from work, and I round up, it takes two gallons of gas to get there and back for a day of work. At about $2.50 a gallon (prices fluctuate, give me slack) that's 5 bucks to go to work. It adds up.

Biking ain't all that cheap, though. I eat more. I really mean it. I am scared to count how many calories go into my body in a day, but I seem to keep losing weight. Food is expensive, especially when it is fresh and perishable (the best kind). The biggest expense in bike commuting is maintenance. Specifically, I go through tires and tubes like nobody's business. Here is what it looks like when you find a pile of razor/utility blades during your commute.

It is unlucky that the tire you see here is actually brand-spanking new. It is kevlar cased. Please, use bullets next time. This stuff is not blade-proof. Glass is another tire-molester. I'll get to the specifics of that one later, but just know that sharp glass treats bike tires the way it treats bare feet.

Even if I manage to avoid ruining a tire with cuts, the things only seem to last a month or two. The mileage on a (rear) road bike tire is usually 1000-1500 for a race tire, 2000-2500 for a touring tire, and 1500-2500 for a cheap tire (which is a poorly built "racing" tire, usually - menaing more rubber in it for longer mileage while giving lower performance). Mileage is reduced when weight is added. I am not light. I carry a heavy bag full of my day's necessities, plus flat-fixing paraphanalia and an array of lights. All tires are equally suceptible to razor blades, so I buy the cheapest ones I can find. In the end, buying bike tires is cheaper than buying gas.

There are other expenses that I incur, and use bike commuting to justify, though. Most are frivolous results of my love for all things bicycle. I want new racing wheels, and I need a way to show my wife that they will help make commuting better. I'm still working on that one.

Piety and Life: The sins of cycling

2009-09-23T22:24:00.003-05:00

Cycling is not a religion, despite what some of my kind will try to convince you. There are times, though, when a cyclist is sure that the deity (s)he believes in is a fellow cyclist. Today was that day.

Today was a beautiful day in the Texas hills. It was, in fact the second official day of fall. It started with a sunrise around 63 degrees. Eleven o'clock rolled around, and the temperature had risen drastically...to 65. Listening to the radio all morning, I was aware that weather forecasters predicted a very slight chance of rain with a high temperature around 75. I rode my bike to school with a big smile on my face.

Life is about choices. "Choices" is the word righteous people use to describe "gambling" without condemning their souls. Hey, you gotta draw a line somewhere. Cycling is about gambling (I mean making choices, based on the criteria set in front of you. Maybe luck, too). I decided the weather man was half right. It would be 75 degrees, but not rain.

Cycling, like major religions, is all about irony and contradiction.

One mile into my trip to school (1/11th of the way), I noticed some slight sprinkles on my head. No worries, it is like sweat that doesn't stink when the precipitation is really light. I get to school happy.

During the break between my classes, I hang out outside. I have to find a covered area, because the sprinkle escalated to drizzle. After sitting outside for a while and finishing a lab report, I seek shelter from the cool breeze. You see, while the precipitation had escalated, the temperature had not. I was right about the weather man being half right. It rained, the high was NOT 75. It peaked sometime during my trip to school at 65. After my last class of the day, It was 55 and showering. I had shorts (cotton), a t-shirt (cotton), a tech-tee long sleeved shirt (thankfully not cotton), and well ventilated cycling shoes. Lost that bet.

Every day, everybody has to make decisions about what to do (and how to prepare) based on the information given and past experiences. Religious types call it "choosing". People in Las Vegas call it "making a living". I call it "gambling". Gambling is sinful, by some religious moral codes. Cyclists are notoriously bad at gambling. Keep us out of your holy houses and casinos.

A fella's gotta eat

2009-09-20T16:33:00.002-05:00

I love eating. I tend to use an abundance of exercising as an excuse to eat foods that are not healthy at all. I feel like the following foods are so good to eat, that their intake should be enjoyed thoroughly but in moderation.

Hamburgers are the definition of American food. I know it is named for a German city, but I am convinced it was invented in the good ole' U S of A. I am not a food snob (most of the time), but sometimes you gotta treat yourself right. At such times, I search for fine eateries with great hamburgers. Chilli's does NOT fall into this category.

Burritos are a great source of calories. That is what makes it great food for exercise recovery. They have all the necessary carbohydrates and amino acids to help your body rebuild glycogen stores and muscle tissue...if it is made right. "Made right" in my opinion, means GIANT and full of pinto beans, rice, grilled fajita chicken, lettuce, pico de gallo, cheddar/jack cheese, and (if you are as adventurous as me) sour cream. Yes, you are thinking of a fast-food style burrito place that I frequent for this. There are two big options (one is bigger).

Ice cream is good. No elaboration necessary.

Fried chicken tenders are probably the biggest contributor to childhood obesity ever. It is because they are very unhealthy and equally tasty. I believe that any place who sells this food should gladly serve it to people who arrive by bicycle, jogging, or human-powered watercraft. All other people should be denied this delicacy. It is simply too dangerous to eat these without "working it off". I believe a part of this is due to the fact that they can be ordered with cream style gravy, although I prefer honey-mustard dipping sauce.

Wings are available at any sports bar. Some places are known for their wings. Places with "wing" in their name usuallly have the most horrible wings ever prepared, but they stay in business somehow. I like mine hot and naked. Those in the know...know what I mean.

Pizza is probably my biggest vice. I crave it the least, but when I need it, I need the entire pizza to myself. I am totally able to make this a healthy meal. I have scratched baked pizzas before (gluten free, meat free...) and they have been the best tasting. Somehow, even though they aren't the best tasting, a big doughy meaty pizza can make me very satisfied.

Beer is something that too many people drink too regularly. If you buy the kind that doesn't cost much just so you can afford to drink it every day, I mean you. The right beer is something that is cheap enough to always have around the house, but otherwise slightly more than the yak piss at your shirtless uncle's birthday party. I like ales. I am picky. I am adventerous (kind-of) with trying something that a friend reccommends. It should be in a dark bottle or a can with a "widget".

If your favorite junk food is not up here, let the world know by posting. I left out a few on purpose. There are great health foods, too though.

Its The Law!

2009-09-17T11:11:00.003-05:00

Some People like to tout bicycle/traffic laws to me. People shout laws from their cars. Others shout from the sidewalks. On occasion, people shout laws to me from their perch on their own man-powered steed. The truth is, although these people want to tell me what they think the law is, I have researched what laws govern Texas bicycle riders on the roads. I generally follow the rules. Furthermore, I usually take other road users into consideration when I ride. I make decisions on how I should be using the road based on: my safety, others' safety, courtesy, logic, rules, and my rights (in that order). Please notice that my life gets a slightly higher priority than anything else. Here's a link to what a bicycle riding lawyer thinks "as far to the right as practicable" means.

I have been accused of breaking laws many times while riding to work. Seldom, but sometimes, these people are right.

Frequently, car and SUV drivers choose to direct me to the shoulder, ditch, or the very edge of the pavement. I stay to the right when it is appropriate to do so. Sometimes it is safer for me to place myself in the middle of a lane, because it makes me more visible. I term it "in the line of sight, not in the way" when I justify this decision to others. My safety is my top priority. If you clicked the above link and read the info, you'd know that I am allowed to use the roadway. Furthermore, as long as I am staying reasonably near the right side of the road (or left, when applicable) I can use the lane for myself. Generally, if there is not an abundance of width for car + bike + passing room, I take the lane. It is safest for me that way. I am OK with you passing me.

Once, another cyclist told me that riding two abreast is illegal. He said this after he passed a line of cars waiting for the light to change in an intersection (on the right of the cars, in teh same lane as the cars). He came to rest beside me (actually just ahead) in the front of the line (I got there before the line of cars) and waited for the light to change. When it did, he tried (unsuccessfully) to outride my "commuting pace" and ended up riding beside me to the right. This is when he shouted at me about my illegal riding habits. If you clicked the above link, you noticed that riding two abreast is legal. So is occupying the entire lane, when necessary. After unsuccessfully convincing the rider that I knew the laws, I decided to let him ride in front of me. After all, I was going to work with full panniers on a crappy 10 speed. He, in contrast, was out for a racer's training ride. I didn't want to hurt his ego by leaving him in my fart cloud (of smugness?) as I pedaled away, so I let him go on without me. He is now sure that I am stoopid, slow, and wrong. OK.

Sure, there are times when I choose to be lawless. Traffic control devices are designed for "traffic". If there are no other vehicles than myself in the area/intersection, their associated rules are nullified to me. I have no intentions to stop and wait at a light if there are no cars at or near the intersection (and if my bike won't trip the inductive-loop sensors anyway). I slow and carefully asses the intersection before passing through it, but I don't always come to a complete stop. Other times, I choose to ignore laws to preserve my safety. When a car is trying to overtake me while turning into me while crossing an intersection, I'll take evasive action to avoid going under/over the vehicle. Sometimes, this means breaking a stop sign law. Oh well, I'm alive and unharmed.

I don't try to enforce laws onto strangers unless their choices are endangering others. If you are speeding in your car (you all do it-- I do sometimes), I'm not screaming "slow down" at you. I don't throw things at cars just because they slow me down (they slow me down every day - people from cars do throw things at me).

Be corteous and don't "cast the first stone" please.

-HCC

Singing in the rain.

2009-09-06T09:30:00.003-05:00

What do you do when it rains?

This is a question I field anytime weather is ominous. The answer is complicated. In short, it is easiest to answer that it almost never rains on me during my ride to work. I rarely even have to worry about it. Other times, it only rains on my way out of work. Those times it is easy to ride in the rain, because I am going home to a dresser full of dry clothes. I just turn on every light on my bike and get to pedaling. Other times, I can see, but not feel the storm:

My wife seems to like to pick me up from work, lately. The most recent rain was on one of these days. She stopped by my place of employment on her way home from her day of work and we carpooled. People at work snickered with comments about how I 'wussed out' and needed a ride. The ones who snicker are usually the ones who drive to work in a car from their houses 3-6 miles away.

I have a rain jacket and pants. Should it be raining, I'll pack my day's rations into a (waterproof) kayaking 'dry sack' and take dry socks and shoes. Upon my arrival, I would hope to have enough dry clothes to make it through the day. The trip home would be weird, though, having to put the wet cycling clothes back on.

The bigger question here, though, is "how do you survive in the rain?" because in Texas, I have concluded that any weather other than hot and sunny is extreme and abnormal. Drivers, as a result, loose all sense of responsibility to others and go out of their minds. Swerving and erratic lane shifts are standard rain procedure. It is fine, though. All you have to do is get so many red blinky lights on your back that you look like the gaudy house on the street during winter holiday season.

That is only the literal answer to how I survive in the rain. The philosohpical answer is that I sing or wistle. I mean it. The right song will get you anywhere. You have to take it a step further and use your own body for the music, lest you run the risk of having your PNP ruin by water. I prefer to recite "Stormy Weather". The version in my head is a saxaphone version played by Ben Webster. The version that you hear is my own interpretation of the song. There are other songs for other situations....

Post in the comments what songs you use for different situations, any situations in your life.

Visitors

2009-09-03T18:31:00.005-05:00

This past weekend, I had visitors. You know the type. These people come to your house, eat your food, drink your alcohol, poop in your toilet. Their arrival marks the need for you to stop leaving your belongings all over the living areas. Now, cleaning is required. In other words, Family. Ugh.

Boris and Jaquemsy came to visit over the weekend (I've protected their identities by changing their names and appearances):

Beyond eating my food and using my bathroom, they also used my bikes. I took them down "Old Stagecoach Rd.", my favorite strolling route to school. It is actually my only route to school, because the other options are an "interstate 35" or an "additional 45 miles".

They don't know that this road is being re-paved as I write, making it potentially superior to previous trips. Over the last three days, the crews have paved 6 or 7 lane-miles. In another 2 days, I suspect that they will be finished with the section of rough chip-'n-seal pavement that linked two other sections of smooth blacktop. Of course, they are using smooth blacktop to repave. This road has had a pretty steady PFD factor of 0.75ish.

In all seriousness, their visit was unbearably pleasant. They are always welcome back for more trips. So are you all. Except ninjas. I am afraid of ninjas.

The Project

2009-08-27T09:28:00.000-05:00

More than anything else, I like to pretend I help people out. I fell like the "provider" role suits me well. When I have the time and capacity to help somebody who would benefit from my charity, I often choose to give it to them.

I frequently choose to make it my business to use the superpower of selective charity work for the "free love" spread of the bicycle mobility STD. In this installment, we have selected a bike for re-roadification that shares some similarities with a bicycle style called "dutch city bike". More specifically, the bike we are going to talk about is made by Columbia. This is the "founder of the American bicycle industry", according to their website.

Here are the pretty golden handles.

Here is a picture of the bike from the starboard side.

This is going to be for my sister. Hope she doesn't wreck it when I'm done.

The work here is pretty straightforward. After cleaning off all the rust, I plan on shining up the paint and giving a little clear-coat to protect it's color. We'll buy new tires, tubes, cables, brake pads, saddle, and a chain. All moving parts will be cleaned and lubed. All bearings will be re-adjusted for fast efficient pedaling. When done, this bike will be a 5 speed bullet with comfort to spare (and sparkly gold hand grips). The gold grips will be a comfort nightmare, but she wants to keep them for aesthetic reasons.

I'll be in the garage if you need me.

Danger!

2009-08-16T11:07:00.000-05:00

People like to make it sound like my trip to work is dangerous. Some roads are more dangerous than others. I posit that there should be a scale by which to measure how safe a road is for "vulnerable road users" (bicycles, pedestrians, scooters, deer, squirrels).

I have decided to create a proprietary and independent measuring system. It can be applied to all roads. I call it:

Propensity For Death (PFD) Factor.

Usually, PFD is a reference to a safety implement. Since a wiser man than I has established that bicycling is all about irony, I feel this is the appropriate acronym. Basically PFD is caltulated as follows.

For any stretch of road you travel, count the "road kill". This number is your PFDF. For dead animals that have been there so long that the smell no longer exits their corpse, subtract 1/2 point. For any animals disfigured so badly that you can't recognize it, double its value. This is a "living" scale, ironicaly. PFDF will rise and fall in relationship to how many animals have died recently. Over time, you can establish an average PFDF for a road based on the undulating levels of dead animal.

Originally, I was going to establish a graduated scale for different animals. This would account for the idea that some animals have heightened wit and resillience. Squirrels, for example would have a very low effect on PFDF; while mountain lions (smarter) would be weighted more heavily. Dogs, cats, deer, and small children would all fall in between; with their own weighted value. This plan couldn't work, though, because there is no telling if the dead animal was of average intelligence level (based on it's breed average). It is not like I can quiz a corpse to get a reading on how smart it was.

I eventually settled on the Darwinistic approach of strong/weak and gave all dead animals a score of 1. The weights here are associated with how long the corpse has been there and how badly they were mangled. I can't rate a road too deadly, just because there is nobody to scrape up Bambi. Also, I assume that if Bambi was embedded into a BMW, the road is more dangerous than if Bambi were simply spray painted to death.

This being said, mileage will not be factored in. If you are riding along the road, and you see a dead animal...it could be you. More miles will definately mean more dead animls and a higher PFDF. My commute has a rolling average PFDF between 5 and 8 over about 20 miles. City streets with no dead animals at all will still rank a 0.5, because Austin drivers suck. I assume that animals are hit in the streets and drag themselves to a happier resting place than Lamar Blvd.

Please don't run me over.

2009-08-11T09:13:00.000-05:00

Welcome to the Hill Country Commuter. Here at HCC, I will tell the tales of some reckless chap who has decided it would be best if trips to work and school were accomplished with the car removed. For those of you still guessing, I ride a bicycle for my commuting. I know what you're thinking:

"Another green hippie."

"That bastard on a bike always gets in my way."

"What for? My pickup truck with mud tires, smoke stacks, and plastic balls hanging from the bumper will turn you into minced meat....maybe not on accident."

"With a gas station around every corner, why use a bike?"

"You're crazy/stupid/nuts/retarded/senseless."

"I could never do that."

I have heard them all. It's OK. I understand why these thoughts occur. Before I thought the way I currently do, I shared some of these sentiments. I owned the road and nobody had better get in my way. People who subjected themselves to such danger were out of their minds. I did not have any level of physical ability that could enable me to endure riding my bicycle for transportation. Riding a bicycle for transportation could not be a logical solution for anybody. Everyone should be driving, and those who don't are beneath me socially.

Then, I graduated high school.

I started riding to work when I was a mechanic...working with cars every day. I was so tired of cars that I decided my soul's only salvation was dependent on a life changing decision. It was not easy at first. I'd ride a day a week. It was only 4 miles. I could change clothes at work. In that line of work, I would sweat more on my shift than riding to work. I could save gas money and spend it on food (my biggest vice). I would eventually get to the point where I never felt like I HAD to drive. It took a long time to get there. There are still times when I WANT to drive. I give in to them sometimes. I have driven to work twice since I moved to Kyle, Texas. I work in Austin. This makes for a 20 mile trip between work and home, which was daunting at first. I quickly acclimated to the distance, though there is no acclimating to 100+ degree days for months at a time. I just had to be tough. I drove in the rain one day. I drove another day because I had to leave for Dallas from work. I have not yet taken a bicycle road trip, although it is on my to-do list.

I am here to tell you that you can do this, too; if you'd like. It is totally possible. There are countless benefits that other people will shout from their soapboxes. I'll leave my soapbox for another day. Today is that day for me to scream from a mountain (or at least a Texas Hill Country Mound). Bicycling saves my life every day. I eat healthier foods because I have to. (It makes it easier for me to justify when I want to eat horrible what-a-in-the-box fast foods.) I have less body fat. I have beautiful (in my wife's opinion) muscles...lean and tight. I save money on gas, insurance, oil changes, car washing, maintenance. I am noticed as 'that guy who rides from Kyle', and I love the attention. I feel a sense of enlightenment, as if I am privy to something not everyone knows. I get to watch sunrises over the quarry. I get to scoff at people with smoke stacks on their pickups and plastic cow balls on their bumpers. I have no responsibility to tithe to Mobil or Shell oil.

There are drawbacks as well. Usually a bicycle advocate would leave these out, for fear of scaring away new cult members. I am terrified at least twice a week by somebody who doesn't recognize my right to be on the road. I am mortally terrified at least once a week by a driver who doesn't even realize I exist until it is almost too late. I get yelled and honked at. I am sweaty and smelly every day. I go to nice dinners wearing a hat and a wet t-shirt. I get flat tires because people throw glass bottles into the bike lanes. Cops interrogate me for being "white male on bicycle" (it really happened). People think I'm crazy/stupid/out of my mind/must have a death wish.

Nothing stops me from seeing my quarry sunrise, though. I love riding so much that all the drawbacks are offset.