Swinging Back

"I'm going to be swinging my arms like this, and if any part of you should happen to get in the way, that's YOUR problem!" - Bart Simpson

On July 3, 2010 Martin Joel Erzinger, a fund manager for Smith and Barney, ran into visiting New York cyclist Dr. Steven Milo with his Mercedes in Vail, CO. Rather than stopping like a responsible citizen, Erzinger drove home and called--wait for it--the Mercedes Benz body shop to come out and take a look at his wounded car. Meanwhile, Dr. Milo lay on the side of the road with a broken knee, shoulder, spine and brain damage. At least he was in a scenic place to bleed to death. In true salt in the gaping head wound fashion, the Vail District Attorney just announced that they're going to drop felony charges against Erzinger in favor of 2 misdemeanor traffic charges. If, like me, you're a math person then please allow me break it down for you math style otherwise your logic minded brain may struggle to digest this:

Nearly killing someone + Cowardice<=Broken Tail Light + Speeding

Brain damage and cowardice traded for a slap on the wrist because of the clout and power of Erzinger's employer and deep pocket local connections to the well heeled in Vail.  Very well done indeed. Apparently big time money managers don't have to play by any of the rules: they can help muddle up Wall Street wrecking our economy and taking our bail out dollars and they can run you off the road and drive off without a second thought...that is unless their precious beemer is somehow tarnished. I for one am planning a career change. I wanna be one of these guys too...it seems so glamorous and thoughtless; like watching Jersey Shore in your underwear all day while eating caviar.

If you doubt me and think that I'm making up such a fanciful fairy tale of blatant stupidity, ignorance and favoritism, please feel free to check out the Vail Daily article. If you check out the link and are as 'mildly annoyed' as I was with the DA's disregard for our injustice system in favor of padding pockets and coddling his fellow rich neighbors, then sign the petition on this site asking that the felony charges not be dropped. Some are even calling for a boycott of the Vail TT stage of the upcoming Quiznos Pro Challenge race as a means of sending a message to the Vail fatcats and bike hating attorneys that this type of under-the-rug-sweeping is not to be tolerated. While I've been to Vail many times and have ridden there on several of those visits I have to say I'm on the fence with this strategy. Vail is a great place to ride both around town on their many paths as well as through the surrounding mountain side trails and mountain pass peak climbs. People in Vail (the real people in Vail not the fake cardboard ones cut out and placed in the windows of $2.5 million dollar vacation homes to make them look occupied in the 'off season') really love their bikes, skis and outdoor environs. They're not the type who'd support a bike bashing, car fixing, head wound causing, felony charge dropping attorney and his havoc causing money manager sidekick. I know from reading some of the forums and comment boards related to this story that the locals are pissed. I too share in their pissed-off-ed-ness.

But this tragedy brings up stark reminders of the other countless examples of the law siding with the driver and not the victim in these car vs. bike encounters, like the story of Kevin Flock who was killed by Aaron Stapleton a Virginia Army Recruiter.  Stapleton got off completely with similar wrist slapping (only to be caught driving recklessly 30 days later after running through a fence)...oh yeah Flock, he's still dead at least according to Google.  Under no other circumstances can a person do catastrophic and negligent physical harm to another person and face the prospect of easily getting off quite like running over a cyclist with your car...unless of course you're Dick Cheney and you shoot your hunting buddy in the face. As I've said before, our justice system somehow seems to sympathize with, or at least relate to, the trials and complications facing motorists; it 'understands' how such accidents can happen. Silly cyclists shouldn't be on the roads anyway, they're dangerous places what with all the reckless cars driving about on them. When a woman in a large SUV ran over an 11 year old girl riding her bike in her north metro neighborhood she got off because the girl was going the wrong way. It doesn't matter that the driver was on the phone and not paying attention: the stupid wrong way riding child apparently got what she deserved not 3 blocks from her home. What happened to the postal worker who killed Shahram Moghadamnia on 32nd 2.5 miles from my home? Not much from what I could find, and the family's case is bogged down in civil court (its been 2 years); that sounds like good old American justice doesn't it? We all understand, accidents can happen, and yet where's the responsibility for owning one's mistakes should the accident cause severe injury to the victim or be the result of negligence?

In Erzinger's case he didn't even stop. With all his money, clout, professional skills, he couldn't even stop to man up to his actions. Our money craven society worships Erzinger's business accumen, financial achievement, economic impact and monetary value, and holds him up as an exemplar of the great American capitalistic ideal and yet this guy's a coward and a loser...and in my opinion not worth the spit or piss it would take to put him out if he were on fire...ok so now I'm just ranting in quite a childish manner and to no real end. So to my starting point, a-la Bart Simpson, and in homage to the spirit of the great American, bullying, motorist public, I'm going to continue the childishness by swinging my arms wildly when walking around in public. If I happen to hit someone then it won't be my fault...cause everyone has now been duly warned. I'm swinging. I'm swinging with purpose but not intent and so come what may...Maybe when swinging I'll be distracted. Maybe I'll have an important meeting to go to, or I'll be late for coffee with Buffy and Bobo.  Sure I might cause a black eye or two or some bruises...deal with it. You shouldn't be walking where I'm swinging anyway. That's essentially how it works right? Cyclist you've been warned: cycling is a dangerous and foolish activity to do around motorists. Cars are big and comfy and drivers are distracted and in a hurry and self important, so if you happen to get hit then its YOUR problem. Well, we'll see who hits who first.

Personal Space

Let’s talk about a very touchy subject called:  personal space. Outside the scope of certain friends and intimate relations it is generally considered rude in American culture to 'get up in one's grill' in the parlance of our times, or otherwise invade one's personal space. Even without direct contact, the sheer presence of one averse to the fundamental understandings of proximal relationships can make an otherwise normal occurrence very uncomfortable. The close talker, the casual shoulder toucher, the close passer, hand grabber, awkward chest looker...these are all creepy intrusions into the private sphere of personal space. Unless you're standing on a crowded bus, elevator or playing rugby people generally respect boundaries and try not to engage in too much unsolicited bumping, grinding, touching or encroaching.

So with such a well understood concept governing our interactions with strangers walking down the street or pushing our carts at the store, why then do we struggle to apply such courtesies to the road; its a mystery to me. Let's play a little Rorschach style game and try and figure this mystery out if we can.

What do you see here?

Clearly it’s a sign that says “Bike Route”, but what could be meant by this? It might mean…that the designated roadway is--a route for bikes. This would then mean that bikes could be routed along it, which thusly could also mean that people could actually ride their bikes on this surface (and in fact are encouraged to do so.) So if you happen across such a bike propelled by such a person on such a surface designated with such signage, then you should perhaps do your best not to run them over and in missing them narrowly show your disgust at their very presence on the same plane of existance as you with your colorful hand gesturing.

So now, how about this one?

This is a trickier one, while both symbolic and declarative its not entirely specific. “Ahead” is a very vague term in the grander sense of the entire space time continuum. But unless you are Steven Hawking (or his clone), then this sign means that BIKES have a LANE...AHEAD....generally meaning right freakin' there. This would indeed be separate from the normal general use lanes of traffic commonly seen on either sides of the dashed yellow line.

As in this picture for example:

Now clearly the symbols and copious use of paint show us the exact distinction of spaces for use by bicycles (hint:  it’s the one with the picture painted on the ground) and the other general use traffic lane (hint:  the one without the picture of the bike on the ground). Now you might think that such a sophisticated species with unwritten social mores around personal space would appreciate the actual designation of separate physical spaces as outlined by these markings. And yet not everyone seems to get this. Take this example:

Clearly law is not enough if the business people of the law cannot seem to unravel and decipher its tangled intricacies. How can I expect the average Joe to know the difference? Clearly the half dozen or more Joe's on my ride home from work today really struggled with the concept about as much as the professional law enforcement types depicted above. Well I suppose that’s the crux of it. Taken as a whole, the Bike Route, Bike Lane, Bike Pictures and Solid White Painted Line SHOULD suffice it to say to the general motoring public: STAY OUT OF MY DAMNED PERSONAL SPACE and yet that seems to challenge some who see this congruence of pictures and paint and think: passing lane, turning lane, parking lane, u-turn lane, my lane. Well guess what, its actually MY LANE, so its my space when I’m occupying it. That means get your close talking, shoulder touching, close passing, hand grabbing, chest looking, bike lane driving ass out of it!

Fake Plastic Watering Can

And a fake plastic IV bag, and fake plastic flowers for the Tour de France victor. I'll be the first to say I really will be glad that Andy Schleck has a tour victory to his name, however I would have preferred to see him win it outright. I never like to see professional cycling in the mainstream media as the main stream usually is the one carrying all the trash and filth and plastic 6 pack rings. Speaking of floating plastic...today the AP was kicking up a storm of 'things in Contador's blood' stories. In the near future if Contador eats asparagus and his pee smells weird the NYT will link it to doping. He's done for, mark my words. But did Contador dope? Did Armstrong? Is everyone in the ProTour peloton cheating the sport? Hell I'd have kept doping myself if I were still racing, but instead I prefer having the occasional beer and riding slowly to nowhere in particulars: its more amenable to my delicate system and beer either comes in aluminum or glass...no plastic.

Just when it seemed that the sport of cycling was resurrecting itself through the biological passport, increased controls, virtuous sermonizing of the 'highroaders' et al, we're back in the mire with a potential second Tour de France overturn in what is really a handful of years. Some will decry the integrity of the sport and insinuate that cycling represents one of the lower steps in the caste system of professional athletes: "They're all cheats!" some will argue. And these pessimists might be right, yet we've heard Olympic medalists admit to doping, we've seen major league sluggers carted before Congress to testify as to their use of steroids and we've got a full on investigation into Lance and the glory days of American cycling's past. It seems professional athletes will do just about anything to win, even if it means cheating or damaging their bodies. But doping aside there are other headlines which call into question the integrity of 'sport'; play and call stealing accusations, college athletic scandals, NFL players cited for violence off the field (against men, women and even dogs), adulterous sexual exploits of one pro golfer, etc, etc. Some unscrupulous characters are attracted to professional athletics.

But aren’t there unscrupulous characters everywhere? Certainly there are cheats in every arena. However I would suggest that what separates the industrial or political cheat from the athletic one is that whereas industry operates within certain parameters and guidelines, conduct wherein somewhat subject to the sentiment and mood of the people, games and sport have clear rules. If you know the rules then everyone can play the same game, and on some levels aspire to the same greatness as that of the professional: fair is fair. We then take the exemplars of sport and hold them up on a pedestal in a manner different than heads of business or other successful professionals. There is something to the achievements of an athlete that any lover of sport believes they can relate to; as we’ve all tried to the play the game and can therefore appreciate the magnitude of success for these rare, gifted individuals. So it’s a bitter taste to choke down the discovery of impropriety in our sport.

And the real cynics might argue, "Well, what do we care?" And as jaded a question as that may be, its actually worth asking. What type of conduct do we expect of professional athletes? Are we really attracted to the integrity of the competition or the spectacle? While many might suggest that it is the integrity of sport and honest competition that attracts us to watch grown adults play children’s games, we cannot deny the degree to which sport has become a very lucrative spectacle. And to this extent perhaps we’ve essentially allowed the snake into Eden. Are we really naive enough to presume that the million (if not billion in some cases) dollar industries of professional athletics could be conducted 100% in the clear and above board? No longer is the bedrock of sport just the contest of one athlete or team against the other; there’s a lot of money underlying that contest. And while the NFL, PGA, MLB and UCI would like to uphold a standard of competition that promotes fair and honest sport, does the monetary aspect of professional sport make this all but impossible? Its one thing perhaps to enter an event where the winner takes the prize. It becomes quite different with team sports involving sponsorship deals, salaries, bonuses and expectations of victory far different than the simple enter and win athlete. Even in amateur athletics, as in the case of the Olympics, athletes drawn by the power of the sponsor’s dollar do some intriguing things. Once they get Lance maybe they’ll go after that sub-sandwich peddling swimmer guy; he can’t be natural either.

So Contador gets tossed out of cycling along with Floyd and Lance and the countless others who ‘cheated’ and played that game and lost it. Maybe while they’re at it they can drag down all of the other idols like George Hincapie, Jens Voigt, and Carlos Sastre. Then what? The reputations of all the heroes are marked by caveats. Schleck gets an asterisk title in a race he did not win, but now technically did. And then next year everyone will suspect him of cheating, or at least they’ll hold their breath and hope that he’s not all the while secretly ‘knowing‘ that he did should a test come back positive. Will we get to the point where we can no longer watch two racers climb a mountain and think that one is, if not both are, cheating? Will we soon be able to watch home runs fly out of baseball stadiums and records fall without that nagging thought in our head: was that real? Or will sport become like magic acts: we all know we’re being deceived yet we seem to go along with it for the sake of entertainment. That’s what we’re all paying for in the end isn’t it: the sponsor, the athlete the fan? We’re paying for entertainment and I suppose that’s indeed what we’re getting. “Are you not entertained?”

I stole that last quote from the movie Gladiator. I also stole the title of this post and theme for the first sentence from Radiohead. As a talent-less, hack writer I felt compelled to do so. I know it was wrong. I feel really bad about it. I will never do it again.  You can have my Heisman and my Yellow Jersey if I ever get one.

"Meat loaf beat Loaf. I hate meat loaf."

And to think that I thought my entirely asynchronous interests in bicycles and organic food would never align. Sure there were some connections, but the thread between Zipp wheel-sets and fish emulsion fed veggies is a tenuous one at best; that is until I got on VeloNews this morning.

The story on MSN of all places actually caught my eye before I even got a chance to get to VeloNews to read the real coverage of it: Tour de France champion Alberto Contador tested positive for a scant trace of clenbuterol. The lithe Spanish cycling virtuoso alleges the steroid found its way into his system via contaminated beef that his friends brought him while visiting him on one of the rest days during the tour. And indeed his Yellow Jersey, daily samples confirm that the steroid was not present (even at such microscopic amounts) until this point when it theoretically could have been ingested with his tasty burger or what have you. Head hunters, vigilantes and Lance supporters are clamoring for his ban from the sport, but I could really care less. The significance of such an announcement means so much more to me personally and professionally than anything that could happen to some brilliant bike racer I’ve never met. I’ve now discovered that my mission in life is to market hormone and steroid free meat and veggies as sponsors for continental ProTour cyclists. Finally cycling can resonate with something truly American: prime rib. Mark the time, note the location: this is MY idea.

Picture this:  the new Schleck powered Luxembourg team sponsored by some high profile Euro-bank and…Cascadian Farms home of certified organic fruits, veggies and granola. No chemical sprays, poisons or CERA on those lovely leaves. Or how about the new power house: Garmin-Cervelo-USDA Certified Free Range Angus Beef…the team cars could be black and white spotted like a cow! The guy who runs alongside the TDF riders on massive hill climbs with his antler helmet could now be sponsored to wear ‘hook-em’ Texas Long Horn-horns. "Texas the land of beef"…some raised with chemicals like yucky Spanish meat that losers like AC ate (we don’t like losers)…but some is raised in the good, natural way off grass and pasture before the steer is shot with a bolt to the head like in No Country for Old Men. Cue son of Texas…that’s right, the big L.A. himself.

Rather than the gravely voice of Sam Elliot or some other such Hollywood Western namesake, Andy Schleck in his broken English could pitch “Beef…steroid, antibiotic and hormone free that is…its what’s for dinner.” Then he and O’Grady could switch over for Anheuser Busch and ‘pedal’ some of that as they clearly share a need for some good brew (not that AB is good brew per se but we’re talking market share here folks. And when the almighty dollar talks you better believe the cheap beer is flyin’.) This might be the big break that cycling needed; a crack into the meat and potato crowd of American consumers. And speaking of cracking breaks: “Need a little excitement?” Well snap into that Slim Jim says scar faced Jens Voigt and Christian Vandevelde…who lately in grand tours have looked more like snapped Slim Jims than anything. Maybe Hank Williams Junior could work on a new jingle for the Versus, “Are you ready for some time-trial? An early morning tape delayed time-trial…all my rowdy friends are coming over for fat-free low carb salads, whole grain rice, pasta and some freakin TIME TRIAL!!" (Cut to cheerleaders, cause nothing sells men in spandex like women in lingerie; cow walks across the screen led by none other than 4-time Fabian himself.) Holy shit, what NASCAR loving blue-blooded American wouldn’t tune in for that!?!

So AC passes into the mire and skepticism of his second modern-day doping scandal, but through Operacion Puerto-Meato-Oh-No and his plummet from grace he’s opened a great wide door for potential meat fed marketing to just walk right in one hoof at a time. I for one will be there to cash in on that great cow of opportunism and financial boon.  I just hope its not tainted with something that gives me indigestion.

Day 9: CO Monument to Utah Line

Miles traveled: 27.6
Ride Time: 1:36
Avg Speed: 17mph

The Utah and Colorado border along highway 6 lies out in the middle of nowhere marked only by a stone pillar and a cattle guard. The pillar, in true American fashion, has been vandalized by spray paint and shotgun shells. Little is sacred for us these days. But to me this past week has been somewhat of a sacred event, an exploration of physical, mental and emotional limits. No I didn’t climb Everest, and no I didn’t ride across the country, but I did venture out in a spirit of discovery and find new places, meet new people and learn a bit more about myself and my home state.

One gains an intimate appreciation for the landscape traveling by bike. When not racing by at 75mph on an interstate one can appreciate both the largeness and smallness of our more remote places. While many of the little communities along my route are in decline if not outright extinguished, there is a life to these places and a history still vivid in the structures and faces that call them home. I think we take these small places for granted in our rush to convenience and ease, sealing ourselves up inside our small, perfect neighborhoods. A hard scrabble folk still make their living from the land in our country and others, closely tied to this existence, support them by running and maintaining stores and restaurants, shops and services. These small communities are ones of a quaint interconnectedness. People who still say good morning and wave as they drive by, who know each other by name and have a general concern, if not direct dependency, on each other’s well being. There’s a lack of anonymity in these smaller communities, which makes it harder to hide as well as harder to avoid the interpersonal contact one has with everyone else in the town. That person you snub or cut off on the road may very well be the person teaching your child or ringing up your groceries. Its harder to just brush off the casual stranger as someone you will never meet again, and in that sense an accepting welcome greets those who would take the time to head out of their way and venture into these rural locales. For those who drop the pretense and sense of expectation, one can find a more rewarding destination in a small community than in some 5 star hotel or resort. And yet for all the smallness of the back corners of this state there are great vast expanses to behold as well.

The enormity of our great mountain ranges, the vastness of our plains really only sinks in when physically confronted by them. The landscape of Colorado is formidable and at times hostile, yet it offers a rich and diverse range of scenes and climates for everyone to explore. I started on the plains, traveled through great wide, dry hills to stony mountains cut by roaring streams. I climbed high peaks and saw the ferocity of the high plateaus and windswept valleys and have now descended down to red rock desert vistas and sweeping prairie of tumbleweed and junipers. I saw all these things and soaked them in over a single week of pedaling my bike.

I don’t know all that I have gained from this experience on a personal level. There is a tremendous amount of physical accomplishment and understanding at what all I can endure and persevere. But there’s also a point at which the noise and distraction in my head finally shut off and quieted itself. I don’t know at what point this occurred, perhaps when being baked by the sun on the plains near La Junta, or battered by the winds in canyons and valleys towards Gunnison or maybe it was the cold and wet of Kebler that wrung it out; in any case it eventually stopped. And this noise, this incessant chatter which continually provides the background track for my thoughts left in its absence a calmness. Last night sitting out under the stars in the cool wind of Colorado Monument my head and my thoughts were clear and simple. No anxiety for the future, no questioning of decisions in the past. Just a cool wind and wide open sky. I know that as soon as I delve back into the ‘real’ world of obligations, expectations, anticipations and stress my thoughts will again cloud over with self-conscious chatter and obsession; my compulsiveness fed by an unsettled state of being. And yet perhaps when this starts to happen I’ll think back to that night on the red rock with all on earth at that moment exposed and opened wide to the star filled heavens. And I will contemplate the lone serenity of that cool, desert night and I will remember. With the impressions of this trip so richly felt and intimately experienced, in truth I believe it will be difficult to forget.

My cyclist flag and manifesto to motorists.

Lookout You Just Got Served

One thing I’ve come to truly appreciate after my 11th day of riding Lookout is this: people on bikes love to race. Sure not everyone on a bike wants to race or likes the idea of racing. But when standing around the parking lot at the base of Lookout (as I did yesterday for a while) one picks up on some interesting conversations. People get keyed up to ride their bikes and everyone deep down wants to feel like a superstar. And so yes, while it may seem surprising, the mid 40’s woman replete with jacket tied around waist, riding the hybrid comfort bike is also very interested in her finish her and place within the pecking order of the band of cyclist comrades she will accompany up the hill. Other riders just wear their race-obsession on their sleeves for everyone to see.

This is particularly apparent with the 20-30 something male, out to somehow prove how exceptionally strong he is against everyone else on the hill. And if you happen to be wearing a team kit of some kind, you might as well have a target on your back. You are the yardstick that this ambitious foe would love to measure himself against. I’ve seen dozens of these Tuesday night racers on my rides up Lookout over the past week. Lookout on a good day is crawling with these hammer heads. And yet while there’s some great competition to be had on Lookout, one must be careful not to bite off more than they can chew. Here are two examples:

On Sunday while cruising out to Lookout I came across some 20 something guy on a Specialized, rocking his Assos or Castelli (I don’t recall) jersey and shorts just like the guy in the advertisement. He was moving well enough. I came around him on one of the hills heading into Golden, said my hellos and spun onward. Hitting the second light at Washington and 13th in Golden my new friend pulled right up behind me in a huff. The light turned and he was a mess of hasty clipping and shifting: I suppose I’d been served. We didn’t take the same route up through the School of Mines but as luck would have it I encountered him again at the light crossing to begin the climb up to the infamous Lookout pillars. Now, for as tough as Lookout is on its own, the climb up to the actual parking area, while short, is equally tough: straight up a steep grade. My new race buddy had something to show and took off, leaving the collection of riders also waiting at the light in the dust. He probably toasted himself on this initial hill…but that’s jumping ahead a bit.

My goal for the day was to put in a sustained, consistent effort up Lookout pushing a big gear and then spin my way up around Boettcher to recover before heading out to 40 and down to other locales for more climbing. I had this plan before I finished my pancakes at breakfast. I wanted to put in some miles and get a hill workout in, so that’s what I settled on for the day. Nearing the pillars the grade eases. I shifted into my big ring and started grinding onward. A little sustained power, big gear equals adequate speed.  Lo and behold a quarter mile up the road I came across my friend, weaving and passing riders, flailing his knees and putting the hammer down on those unsuspecting, weak bastards. As I neared him I simply slid over to the middle of the road and passed. From behind I could hear a flurry of shifting and heavy breathing. This persisted until the mile and a half point where it became eerily quiet. That was the last I heard from my friend.

My second story also starts on the way out to Lookout. It was Monday and I was again rolling out getting the legs going. After I got past the I-70 bridge I heard the sound of a rider behind me. He made some indication that he wasn’t coming around and sat in for the ride. As the road widened he pulled around and starting chatting. He road comfortably, strongly and was barely breathing hard. He wore a local team kit and was riding an old Independent frame. He pulled back in behind me as traffic demanded and when the lane freed he came around and resumed conversation. I did most of the pulling for the way out and heading up the long gradual hills outside of Golden still had the rider on my wheel, occasionally pulling even to talk a bit. The interesting tidbit about this guy is that he couldn’t shift into his big ring. Something broke on his derailleur while out and he was left with his 9 gears and small tooth chain ring. So while I hammered my 53 he spun his small ring, and kept pace enough to shoot the shit all the while. When we pulled up to the light and parted ways, he said that I about gassed him there on the descent past Coors. Gassed or not, he hung in and kept with me. I was more than impressed.

The moral of these stories is that as much as cyclists want to get out on the road and smoke other riders around them, believe me I was one of these guys not too long ago so I know how this works, you never know who you may or may not be smoking. Especially in Colorado where the field of cycling talent is quite deep, you never know who might be waiting to serve you some humble pie in return for your hubris. Colorado boasts literally dozens of local race teams with rosters of strong talent. We also play host to many pros who like to train here at altitude. And you never know if the unmarked rider pulling up next to you is a former 3 time Iron Man or former Junior World Champion. So while it is great to race and get all geeked up on how many people you passed on the road, before jumping in to wage battle sometimes it is better to get a feel for what your competition is really all about. Coming up on some rider, team kit or not, you don’t know if they’re on a recovery spin, if they’re doing intervals, if they’ve been riding Lookout for 25 days, if they’re ramping up for a big stage race, if they’re hopped up on EPO. You just never know, that is unless you ask. “Where you heading?” “How far you going?” “Mind if I sit in or trade pulls?” Any of these simple questions can help create a sense of mutual acquaintance and set the stage for some fun at a later point. On the other hand, if you pass someone going up Lookout and think you’re a hard ass, you might be severely disappointed to know that they’re also riding another 75 miles or they plan to do Lookout 4 more times...whereas you only have the cajones to do it once.

I suppose my point is, if you really want to race then go out to the ACA site and pick a race and actually race. Or go join a group ride and get to know riders who have similar abilities or interests as you. There are entire group rides for guys who want to race but don‘t want to pay to race. They talk shit, they sprint, they crash its all fantastic and totally free. Or, for the non-joiner then at least strike up a conversation with your fellow rider and see where it gets you. Don't hop on people's wheels and flail away because to you that is some form of competition and you just might 'beat them.' Its one thing to find a rider and have them push you to work harder and get stronger, its another thing entirely to notch your belt by wheelsucking on some team rider, picking off old men and schooling people on hybrids: what fun is that really? Then again, I know some guys in their 50’s who run sub 4 hour marathons and know their way around a bike…they also like to lie in wait for younger guys to try and pass them. Or in the classy dialog penned by one Quentin Tarantino, “The night of the fight, you may feel a slight sting. That's pride fucking with you. Fuck pride! Pride only hurts, it never helps.”  Well I guess pride might help get you served!

Will Bike for Food

In honor of Cesar Chavez day today, I did not have to go to work. I think my employer just might be the only one to recognize the 29th of March as an actual holiday, but really you will get no argument from me. As I traveled the winding roads north of Golden to meet some friends for a ride, I succumbed to the allure of carless streets, the quiet of the morning, and the signs of spring all around me. How could I miss the serenity of such a ride? What could possibly keep me from enjoying such a tour day after day?—oh yeah, work!

So consider this post my official “Will Bike for Food” sign. I will ride my bike in exchange for food so I don’t have to work for it. Any takers? Here are some of the jobs I’d be willing to do in the service of riding my bike:

• Pro Tour Racer: While I lost the dream of being a pro cyclist years ago, if any pro team would like a 30 something amateur grunt to add to their arsenal consider me your man. I’m undertrained, in my 30’s, a CAT3…did I mention undertrained? I would consider it an honor to be off the back of any pro tour team; salary and benefits negotiable.
• Bike Messenger: I would consider being a bike messenger. I will however insist on riding a bike with gears as I believe in Darwin and the theory of evolution…the derailleur is good. It would be a great excuse for getting a Chrome bag though, not too shabby.
• Velo-Cab Driver: I would gladly drive one of those pedicabs around, however I’m not good at chit-chat so fares should have no expectation of pleasant banter or idle rambling.
• Bike cop: ride around on a bike, with a weapon and exact justice on the unsuspecting, lawless scum of Denver. SIGN ME UP! I’d like a red bike though, and a siren and maybe a cape.
• Shoot videos for Training Peaks: Now this has to be the sweetest gig in all of cycling. You ride around with a dork camera on your head and take rider-perspective video of roads. The Training Peaks folks then take your video and add it to a computer simulation for training. I could easily do this. I know lots of great routes…and would travel to Europe to ride if you really insist on it.
• Gear tester: I’d ride around all day to log countless miles on some company’s tires just so they could stick a “Tested by #17” sticker on the inside…oh they do that testing in a lab…bummer. Well if there’s a job for riding around and giving my opinion on gear I’d consider that as well.
• Bike tour guide: I think this would be a pretty sweet gig too. It would be like being on a group ride—all the time. The hard part would be indulging the touristy and out of shape set with their incessant demands for breaks and photo opportunities. And to think they’re paying to ride bikes…why would they want to stop so much?
• Charity bike rider: If some group, I don’t care which one, wants to sponsor me to ride around and take pictures of my travels for their ‘cause’ I’d sign on with their agenda without a second thought. (Now I suppose this isn’t entirely true. I’m an opinionated SOB so I couldn’t stomach some of the crap churned out by the ‘free thought’ mass of bigoted, crackpot, nut jobs out there. But if there’s a group of tree huggin’, dirt worshippin’, bike lovers out there looking for a rolling billboard give me a shout!)
• Gypsy: Do they still have gypsies? Are there bike gypsies? Maybe I could be the first.
• Corporate whore: That’s right: slap a logo on my back and I'm yours. The price is cheap: food for me...and my wife too I suppose…and maybe some help with the mortgage…and gear money. But hey that's a bargain in exchange for freely pimping myself out for your product, no matter how crappy. You make ugly jerseys with rock band art and fake tattoos and junk on the sleeves…I’ll rock out that Pink Floyd swag and make it look good. You have a new bottle design…I’ll drink from it. You hand stitch panniers out of yak skin…I’ll pack up my junk and show everyone how yak is the new cordura nylon. Want to make an organic, compostable shammy...I'll put my ass on the line for it.  Have a new phone app or other tech gizmo that measures power, heart rate, blood pressure, sweat loss, carb consumption, and pee acidity…just call me the pee acid king.
• Self absorbed bike blogger: This would be the greatest gig ever. You get to be all high, mighty and arrogant about how superior your mode of transportation is compared to all the others. You can gripe about the weather, traffic and people who ride aero bars on the bike path. You get to look down on all the ‘unworthy’ masses and dispense your wit and wisdom from high atop your shiny new Brooks saddle. People love you and hate you all at the same time, and you could care less because you’re out riding your bike and cleansing your conscience all at the same time. What a sweet gig…one can only hope!

Of Wolves and Buffalos

Last weekend as part of the failed Primal/First Bank training camp we rode north west out of Denver up to Boulder for “Super Flag.” I didn’t get an exact count but I think at our peak the ride easily included 20+ riders from our team and a handful of riders from other teams. With such a presence on the roadways we attracted the attention and ire of many of the motorists we passed. At times I must admit I even felt uncomfortable traveling in the group, the presence of erratically passing cars and speeding motorists (not to mention the flurry of bicyclists) transformed the roadway into uncomfortably close quarters. This weekend I opted to ride alone, and found myself traveling many of the same roadways covered last weekend. Not an incident to speak of or report. No senior citizens to yell at, no truck exhaust filling the lungs. No fly by’s or shouts from teenage dumbasses in their Too Fast Too Furious mobiles…or mommy’s SUV. Was there simply less traffic?--perhaps. I left my home earlier than last week which might have had something to do with it, though the weather today was nicer and I think more folks were out and about. So what changed?

The only difference I could think of was that I was alone; one cyclist on the road as opposed to 25. Could this really be the distinguishing factor: numbers? The more I pedaled and contemplated this phenomenon the more it made sense to me on some levels. Pleasantly left to my own devices my thoughts drifted to the Buffalo. The buffalo is a large, strong beast but one inclined to idle the day in a field, consuming resources and producing methane. These lumbering giants congregate in huge herds and move about all day long prowling the landscape eating, pooping, mating and butting heads with each other. From the openness of the prairie they can easily spot predators from afar and stampede the life out of them if needed. Its kind of a brute, monotonous existence but one that works for the buffalo (until we showed up on the continent and blasted them all…but that’s not my point.) My point is: motorists are much like buffalos.

Since cyclists appear to cause buffalos so much consternation and angst, cyclists must then be more akin to wolves. A lone wolf, as I was today, roaming the wide open prairie in isolation is hardly a threat to the lumbering, buffalo, motorist herd. Even when on more remote, wooded lanes or curvy mountain routes one wolf is still not a significant threat to a herd of buffalos. But generally it is in the cyclist’s nature to not travel in solitude but rather to seek the power and strength of the pack. The buffalo knows this and deep down fears it. With one cyclist the herd remains calm, perhaps a watchful eye fixed in the direction of the wolf but they feel more comfortable giving wide berth when passing and thus move on with their big, stupid existences with ease and less stress. With a pack of wolves however it is a different story. Haven’t you ever noticed that pel-e-ton sounds eerily familiar to bring-it-on.  Because peleton secretly means: buffalo I’ve come to hunt you and take you home as a trophy to my family….its French though so the translation isn’t quite literal. This is no surprise to the buffalo, they expect as much, and thus from the congregation of cunning and strength found in the cyclist pack arises an implicit danger to the buffalo. Although larger and stronger pound for pound, buffalo know to be afraid of a pack of wolves (or consider elephants and tigers or rhinos and lions, there are plenty of other examples). The heightened tensions arise from the knowledge that a pack of wolves can easily cut through a herd of buffalos, separate out the weak, frail or stupid and devour them whole. I’ve seen a pack of cyclists eat an entire F-350...its both grotesque and beautiful at the same time like something out of National Geographic. Sensing this fate the motorist, upon seeing a pack of cyclists roving the hills, reacts with a preservationist instinct exemplified by behavior such as: yelling, incorrectly citing traffic law, hoof stomping and drive-by buzzing. These displays are intended to prevent the inevitability of attack.

Does this posturing work?--not really. It makes the buffalo motorist look like an ass. I’ve often wondered what type of thoughts were rolling through the empty skulls of driver’s who deem it necessary and prudent to closely buzz a group of cyclists: now I’ve found my answer. It is pretty much, "Uh...duh...duh...cud...buffalo...cud...chew...grunt...stomp...stomp...bike." In any case, these are the types of thoughts one can have when left to calmly ride around the countryside enjoying the road and serenity of one’s head. Unfortunately it doesn’t happen too often with such lack of disturbances from the herd. It is a shame that the level of ease and comfort I enjoyed today is not often experienced when riding with my friends. As a wolf, I’m a pack animal by nature, and while it is sometimes nice to go off by oneself, it is more fun riding in a group. If only we could just get the buffalos to chill the hell out.

Sianara Path, Its Been Real

Today afforded me the opportunity to play young urban professional one more time, this time with a full commute eastward into the belly of the beast: Cherry Creek. So after two days of high profile urban riding and path trolling, I now feel myself a learned expert on the subject. Before my ride tomorrow, which will once again push me head long into the world of industrial parks and tenement housing, I figured I’d dispense my wisdom and be shed of it.

• The small dog trend really needs to stop. These pocket puppies are the canine equivalent of a bag of Skittles to larger predators (like squirrels and such) and thus really serve no role in nature. Take your teensy-weensy poopsie and get it off the bike bath before an errant valve cap flies off and crushes its skull.
• There are a lot of people out there who enjoy the comfortable ride of a full suspension mountain bike. There are those who enjoy the effortless glide of road bike tires. And there's the third group who has no qualms about enjoying them both simultaneously.
• Aero bars…*&@#$%! aero bars. The market for aero bars is apparently very good despite our slumping economy and near 10% unemployment rate. Here’s a stock tip, buy shares of Performance because they must be making a killing selling tri bars to hybrid owners for their daily Tour de Pathlete.
• Old men on old road bikes are a trip to watch; overly loaded for their 20 mile constitutional, inappropriately dressed for any weather, they always seem to be suffering…even when waiting for the light to change.
• If you have no agenda, no job, no initiative to do anything or get anywhere then head out to the bike path around 2:00 in the afternoon and weave amongst the old men, path racers, hipsters and poopsie pocket pups. In fact bring your significant other or 12 and just make a parade of it while you’re at it. The more slowly pedaling weavers the merrier.
• The slowly pedaling, agendaless weavers always end up laying on the grass in the sun at the park, that one you pass as you make that last turn and head towards your schmuck job...who's laughing now office boy?
• A kitted up female cyclist will never wave or nod at you…ever.
• A kitted up male cyclist will only wave or nod if they think they’re faster than you, otherwise they’ll just pedal harder and over compensate.
• Most kitted up male cyclists cruising the path at 8:00am think they are faster than everyone.
• The IQ of driver’s in Cherry Creek goes down 10 points for every 10 grand of pre-tax income.
• There are a lot of people running at 2:00 in the afternoon; most of them are in really good shape and are apparently unemployed or nocturnal…so that’s how they do it.
• “I can ride my bike with no handlebars, no handlebars” While that might be true for the Flobots, its not true for most of the people who attempt it on the bike path. Just hang on tight for Pete’s sake. Pete is a nice guy and you’re complete lack of control or sense of balance is going to f* his shit up.
• The hardest part about riding a bike is selecting a helmet that fits properly on one’s cranium. Apparently few have mastered this skill, and many fail at it publicly every time they go out for a ride.
• Any guy riding in non-existent drops on his mountain bike, chain a-grindin' and a-squeakin', with a sweatshirt with “Ted” on the back will most assuredly be a douche bag. He’ll pass and then slow down right in front of you. He’ll cut people off at random. He’ll be wearing those radio headphone combo things. He’ll attempt riding with no hands--poorly and he will do it all just to spite you…and he will enjoy every minute of it.
• You can say “on your left” as loudly as you want, but if a runner is in their Ipod zone they will never hear. And as you go by right in the midst of their 'bringing sexy back' they will always give you that, “scary, fast passing, asshole cyclist” look as you pass.
• If you try not to pay attention to the fact that they are homeless people cheering for you, it almost feels like you are in turn 1 entering onto the Champs Elysees for the Tour and it might smell like it too.
• Any attempts by the city to “fix” cracks in a bike path only ends up making it worse. Say yes to crack, it is less annoying than rehab.
• Painting yellow lines on the bike path to help designate opposing lanes heading into tight turns or corners is a big mistake, as the amateurs look down at the lines to make sure they’re in the right place and inevitably end up veering into the other lane anyway.
• They could plaster the roadway with airport runway lights, neon signs and dancing purple monkeys in share the road shirts and drivers would still think that the marked bike lanes on city streets are their turf to be contested with a level of aggression and hostility one typically only associates with the West Bank or when the people in your office fight over the last Krispy Kreme in the break room.
• There is a moment in every cruiser bike rider’s ride when they realize that despite the cool appearance of their vintage ride, the posture, fit, weight and gearing of their heft machine is entirely inappropriate for their chosen route and distance. If you’re lucky enough you just might be around to witness this realization when it happens. Its like shooting stars and magic and nirvana and stuff.

And really if anything is about shooting stars and magic and nirvana its riding the bike path. I only mock out of jealousy…honest.

Home Sweet Suburban Hole

I’ll preface this by saying first and foremost that I’m not really much of a city person. I’m not inclined towards the crowded living arrangements, noise and general din of urban living. I didn’t move to Colorado for its urban offerings; if I wanted urban culture and amenities I would have stayed in St. Louis or Indianapolis or better yet would have moved to Chicago as many of my collegiate friends did. Chicago is a big city. But city life was never my bag, which is why Denver held such an allure: it is urban but not really a ‘big’ city. So I’m somewhat conflicted. After our move down from the foothills we acted decisively on our anti-city inclinations and settled somewhere in the funky black hole that is the burbs: it was like committing but not really committing, one foot in one foot out as it were. Now I’m not talking about tract home burbs…but in truth our current neighborhood is not far off though. The net result of our move here, while positive on many levels, ultimately is clearly less than ideal. With my disclaimer aside, I go about my business on days such as today and feel myself tugged in a host of different directions leaving me questioning my sense of place.

Every time I travel into the heart of Denver for work purposes it impresses the hell out of me how easy navigating the city by bike truly is; there are many aspects of this city which I feel work really well in terms of car free accessibility and layout. People can get to the heart of the city via light rail or bus, or they can make their way by bike as many choose to do. I can approach Denver via one of three easily accessible east-west bike routes which span the distance between Lakewood/Golden here on the west all the way into downtown. Today I opted for the route down 26th past Sloan’s lake jogging south to the 23rd ave bike route. I easily could have taken 32nd through ’the Highlands’ or 20th more or less to 23rd again at Sloan’s Lake. These on street routes offer wide lanes for bike travel, are clearly marked and generally boast a number of riders heading in either direction. My route ultimately connected me with the Platte and Cherry Creek trails, what I would characterize as Denver‘s main bike and pedestrian super highways. In typical fashion I was not the only bicyclist out during the morning rush hour not by a long shot, and it was 28 degrees when I left my house (on its way to 60--only in Denver). The span of humanity coursing along the bike paths downtown today included young professionals on commuter style rigs, women and men kitted out for early morning training rides, hipsters heading to class at UCD, people cruising on their cruisers to wherever; it ran the whole gambit, each one representing a car not on Speer or some other major metro arterial. For a bike commuter the sight is about the most refreshing thing one can find save a trip to Holland or something like that. I got off the path near the convention center and headed up to catch the bike lane along 14th towards the Webb Building. Here I parked my bike in a secure location and after a short walk I hopped the 16th street mall ride between my meeting locations.

In route I passed all of the retail and dining offerings of the downtown area. I’m not much for nightlife, clubs, bars etc., they have their place and all, but I can fully appreciate the spectrum of coffee shops and breakfast sites open early in the morning. I love breakfast and good coffee and it is easy, if not obligatory, to find a local shop for your cup of jo versus the multitude of Starbucks coffee burners strewn about the place like dandelions in a well manicured lawn. Everything is easily within an easy walk or ride: banks, food, retail etc. While not on the scale of a New York City, one can easily find an outlet for whatever their needs may be all within a comfortable, car-free distance. For those who choose to (or can afford to) living and working downtown makes the option of a car free existence very attractive. In my opinion this should be the goal for any densely packed urban area with both commercial, entertainment and residential options. Yet, as highly as I regard the ease of navigation and travel within the Denver area, I still find myself conflicted in terms of my desire to live close to town versus out in the woods somewhere.

As I said earlier, I’m not a fan of urban living. I prefer to live out in the country or back up in the hills where I used to live. Yet it is hard to weigh my desire for a more rugged or rural lifestyle with the environmental costs of residing on the periphery of town and commuting in for work, shopping or recreational purposes. I don’t look back on my days of car commuting fondly with the added stress, time wasted, traffic, and long hours idling on the interstate. Unfortunately the burb-hole we now call home lies almost too far outside the periphery of the city to regularly take advantage of its conveniences more readily. I consider our neighborhood somewhat of a purgatory of sorts, sandwiched between the true subdivision burbs (hell in short) and the inner city (not really heaven in my mind, but better than the alternative). Our void is sorely lacking in accessible entertainment and dining options; days like today only reinforce how inconvenient and car dependent our neighborhood truly is. We have easy access to a grocery store and other such box retailers, yet prefer not to patron such establishments…unfortunately all of the friendly, local big-box competition is closer to town and not exactly in our hood. Similarly the streets lack the bike routes, bike parking, easy connection points and types of regular public transportation that make true urban living so convenient. Plus, we don’t work here. So while our commutes are now bikeable its still a commute and another door to door form of travel, more or less bypassing anything of value in the process. With Denver trying to market itself as a greener, alternative travel friendly, active place to live, I suppose we’re the target demographic for many of its in-fill efforts. At this point I suppose I am still resistant to its charms, yet after a day like today I have to admit my defenses are weakening, if even just the slightest, tiny bit

Our Great Injustice System

So I’ve been thinking a lot about justice and our justice system lately. What initially got me started was the very recent shooting at a local middle school here in Lakewood, CO. A guy walks up to kids leaving school. He asks them if they go to the school, and after they reply he starts shooting at kids with a high powered rifle. Shockingly, this individual has been previously arrested or called on for a host of other issues including domestic violence and other misc. firearms charges. While I’m all about the powers of redemption and the belief that people can change…justice implies a set of consequences for actions deemed outside the law. As tragic as this scenario is, fortunately no one was killed. The same can’t be said in the case of Kevin Flock.

If you are unfamiliar with the story of Kevin Flock then please read this article on VeloNews, you’ll get to know the man behind the statistic; a senseless victim of neglectful, and irresponsible driving. In short, Kevin was struck from behind while out enjoying a ride alongside a rural roadway in Virginia one morning. A Virginia National Guard recruiter, Aaron Trey Stapleton, out on a long drive from someplace ran Kevin down at speeds in excess of 65 miles an hour. The jury fined Stapleton $500 for improper driving. He killed a man and it cost him $500. As tragic as this scenario is on its own, the sickening aspect of it remained to be told until a week after the trial. A week later Stapleton again found himself back in police custody for guess what: careless driving. This time he drove through a fence and then took off; he also refused a breathalyzer test. So we have a man with apparent issues controlling himself on the road and on top of this, even prior to killing Kevin, Stapleton had a history of reckless driving charges and citations. Brilliantly however, in order to protect the rights of the defendant Virginia law prohibits the admittance of prior ‘improper acts’ as evidence in current criminal trials. The jury let this guy loose after killing a man. Prior authorities before that let him off, despite repeated infractions. No one thought…hey maybe there’s a dangerous pattern here? Well of course not, its just driving. We’ve all driven a little fast, taken some extra chances etc. We can relate to a motorist prostrate before the blind scales of justice. We can’t relate to gun toting kid shooters these people are just wackos and nut jobs. Criminals shoot children…anyone can have an ‘accident.’

After the Deer Creek shooter was arrested people again began clamoring for more stringent gun control rules: if we could keep the guns out of the hands of criminals maybe we’d be safer. Well in the case of Kevin Flock he wasn’t shot. The doctor in California who purposefully stopped his car in front of two cyclists descending a steep canyon road never intended to shoot anyone. He chose to use his car as a weapon. While we seem to be a society with no shortage of laws on the books, seemingly for the protection of you and I, we also put into place an elaborate legal apparatus for the plea bargaining, negotiation, and settling of criminal charges. Hey great, so and so plead guilty for a reduced sentence; he cooperated and we reached a deal. Well Kevin Flock won’t be reaching for anything ever again. So for all our great legal protections, freedoms and liberties, in this case I think justice it swerved.

You Gotta Try This

Yesterday when I cracked the cover on the freshly delivered copy of VeloNews I couldn’t help my amazement when I saw a 4-5 page spread on bike commuting towards the back; just before the table that subtly guilt’s you for not riding 50 miles a day for your March training plan. However I digress, back to my shock: bike commuting…in VeloNews? Maybe in Bicycling Magazine or some more germane, proletarian publication but not the great homage to cycle sport and racing that is VeloNews. But sure enough my eyes had not deceived me and back towards page 60, underneath the obligatory season opening Lance cover, replete with similarly obligatory Mellow Johnny’s photo op, there in fact was an article and gear review on bike commuting.

Although the article only grazed the superficial details of bike commuting (remember to pack clothes, ride the path, plan for the weather etc) it was good to see commuting get some press in between coverage of Will Frischkorn using the computer and the Tour Down Under. Granted, the editor’s idea of gear selection includes $200 Rapha pants and other such nonsense, but this article represents a pretty good start. They even play to some of the stereotypes that cyclists (read road bike purists) have of folks who commute; largely that they are nostalgic remnants of the oil crisis, clad entirely in neon, riding rusty, beater mountain bikes…slowly. And while I’m almost 100% positive VeloNews sports one of these stories every year (about this time when race season isn’t fully underway) I like to think that this story represents an opening of the fold if you will, to let commuters in to the greater biking family. The tongue in cheek characterization of the bike commuter that VeloNews satirized slightly, as they also imply, really ought to fade into history. It is about time we got past the image and focus on the ends that justify the means.

Sure I race, I did, I do…its day to day some times, but regardless of my ACA or USAC classification I am above all else a bike commuter. To me the bicycle is the simplest, healthiest, most enjoyable form of transportation, especially for an urban dweller like myself. As a commuter turned racer I generally never really saw much of a distinction, however now that I’ve been amongst bike race culture for a little while now there clearly is a bit of stereotyping or judgment of commuters on the part of road cyclists. I’m not sure why this should be, unless there is a sense that endurance or anaerobic capacity is somehow the only yard stick by which the quality of cyclist can be measured. I’m sure to the typical VeloNews reading, race crowd enthusiast (or wanna-be) the accomplishments of the full season bike commuter pale in comparison to a yellow jersey, podium finish or high water Power Tap reading. Yet the draw of being out on a bike seemingly unites both camps. Additionally, the broader role that bikes could play in our society, building a more bike friendly and bike reliant culture similar to what one might encounter in some European cities, opens the doors for both commuters and sport cyclists. I’m glad to see that VeloNews recognized this connection, at least for one article.

***

The weekend at home sitting around the house made me realize the importance of regular daily exertion of some kind; in short, if I don’t ride I go crazy. I considered myself lucky to have the means and nerves to ride in to work yesterday and today, despite the snow, ice and freezing morning temps. And today while I pedaled my ass in to work at a balmy 16 degrees, not breaking zone 3, not pushing serious wattage, not setting a blistering pace I still enjoyed my ride and got a lot out of it in return. Considering the alternative of sitting around in traffic in a car, I figure my return to be quite a bit more than most. So for all the accomplishment that regular bike commuting is not in terms of race output and impressive ability: I was out riding and it seemed at least on my route today I was the only one.

Bikes at the Winter Olympics 2014!

Tonight marks the opening of the 2010 Winter Olympic Games. Ho-hum. As a Colorado resident and skier I appreciate the bountiful diversity of winter sport: snow shoeing, cross country skiing, backcountry skiing etc. But Super G?—I’m not that in to it. Skeleton?—nope. Ice Dancing…? You get the idea. Winter sports are great but leave me wanting a bit more, and besides this is a bike oriented blog and not a ski one. So the question is, where are all the bikes at the Winter Games? You can ride bikes in winter (it can actually be harder than riding bikes in the summer), so why discriminate against biking at the Olympics?

For all intents and purposes Cyclocross could be a winter game; Cross season really just ended in December/January so why not reinstate it for the games in February? Just scrape off some of the snow (leaving enough to make it interesting), put some logs on the track, a pile of sand, some steps, beer and voila’: a cross race. Pile up some of those curling rocks and make them ride over them; that would be awesome. Hit the riders with brooms too, why the hell not?—its Cross! Ok if not Cyclocross, how about cross country riding on Pugsleys? Have you ever seen one of these monsters? It rivals the Moots Ice Bike I highlighted in this post. These beefy rigs easily could crush through snow on a cross country ski circuit. Instead of skiing and shooting, how about cross country skiing while being chased by any angry messenger on a Pugsley shooting you with paint balls? It would be like the Kerin but more entertaining.

Winter is also the season of the Velodrome as many cyclists do find the cold too daunting and retreat to the comfort of the indoor track: so why not include indoor riding as a winter event? You could cover the Velodrome with ice and everyone could ride studded tires if the Olympic organizers really feel it that important for there to be a ‘cold’ element. Another great event would be the overnight, outdoor trainer ride. Put spandex clad riders on trainers in the freezing Vancouver winter air and make them ride all night: the rider alive and pedaling at dawn takes the gold. If that’s not Nordic I don’t know what is…certainly Disney on Ice isn’t.

Finally, I suppose there are in fact ski-bikes. They don’t have wheels, or pedals or really anything resembling a bike other than handlebars and a seat. They are more akin to motor-less snowmobiles for people who can’t ski and don’t mind looking ridiculous. If one could get over the humiliation of riding one of these, they could be quite competitive in a winter sports environment. I’m sure at least the athlete’s parents would come and watch the event. Then again they’d probably get more enjoyment out of looking at Lindsey Vonn’s shins.

So I’m starting my petition now: Cycling Events at the 2014 Winter Games! Who’s with me?


Cross pic taken from www.pedalpushersonline.com
Pugsley pic taken from www.surlybikes.com
Ski Bike from www.skibike.net

Sharing the Road...Bikes Too?

Standing at the light at 26th and Youngsfield I held the front of the left turn lane, line of traffic politely waiting behind me for the light to change. I wear a bright yellow jacket. I have a flashy, blinking light. Factoring in that it was only 5:00 with the pretty mountain sun a-setting, should imply that I’m one visible dude on a brand new shiny bike. So when the light changes and I proceed forward with my turn left onto the bike lane, imagine my shock when I hear the familiar sounds of brakes and tires grabbing pavement behind me. No, not car tires, or truck tires…or crotch rocket motorcycle tires, or cement truck, Fedex van, Ford F250: it was bike tires. “Oh sorry” was the acknowledgement I received from the cyclist who ran the red light in the bike lane before nearly t-boning me in the intersection. I stammered trying to come up with just the right words to say. In my astonishment I think all I got out was, “Guh waf a flick a dumpus” (you get the idea--gibberish and maybe an expletive-- I don‘t recall it happened so quickly.)

And to think that one of the chief complaints of motorists is that cyclists don’t obey the stated rules of the road. Imagine what the drivers waiting patiently for both the lights and me to turn would have thought at my getting rammed by some spandex clad, commuter tool on a bike. “I told you so” comes to mind, and it is sad how right they would have been. I know not everyone who gets on a bike wants to be an ambassador for the entire population of American cyclists. Some people don’t want to involve themselves in the politics of “sharing the road,” others don’t think it’s that big of a deal either way and some cyclists just prefer to do what they want. Yet, let’s face it, when you’re out riding a bike, even by yourself, you become “cyclists.” Most of the outspoken critics of bicyclists having equal access to public roadways do not distinguish between those cyclists who play by the rules and those who choose to make them up as they go. They see one rider run lights, weave through traffic, or see a group taking up more than their necessary share of the lane and these examples feed vitriolic stereotypes. Providing these cynics with more examples to justify their ‘cyclists gone wild’ view of bicycling only encourages their resistance and belief that bikes have no place on the road with cars.

Consider recent local legislative efforts here in Colorado to ban cyclists from riding on certain mountain and rural roadways. What began as the perspective of a handful of people, based on their negative reactions to what they perceived as cyclists pushing the limits, now has gained momentum to the point that local governments are actually considering these types of rules. While the messenger or the roadie may feel very cavalier or entitled in their navigation of traffic at their own personal discretion, they need to consider that their actions will reflect not just on themselves but on everyone else who wants to put two wheels to pavement. And while consideration for “the other guy” is not often the hallmark of this type of self-centered behavior, eventually it will come full circle. Unfortunately, until cycling becomes more accepted in the US as a method of transportation, the public will be on the watch for examples of how cycling just doesn’t fit in with the norm. In my opinion, all bike riding folk then have but two options: help provide an example of how bicycling can be a safe and logical method of transportation or just steamroll those people in traffic and see how far you get by yourself.

Pondering Traffic...From the Bike Path

Yesterday Kate sent an email to see if I wanted to head down with her to the Cherry Creek Mall so the Apple Store dorks could take a look at her I-Pod. I didn’t hesitate, why not? I’d ride north from work up the Platte River Trail, meet Kate at REI and then we’d head down the Cherry Creek Trail to the mall. There we could park our bikes just outside the door, head inside and take care of business and then roll homeward. Heading home we’d reverse our trip back down to Confluence Park and hop on the bike route up 23rd to the route on 26th and comfortably ride the bike lanes into Lakewood on the way home. An entire 15-20 mile round trip journey almost entirely on paths or bike lanes.

The popular statistic of the urban bicycle movement notes that the majority of trips Americans make are within 3-5 miles of their home. The idea being that most of these trips could easily be handled by bicycle instead of automobile. Certainly many don’t have day-to-day trips which fit this boundary. I seldom had a trip under 3 miles when living in the foothills, everything but the post office was well outside that boundary. Even our net distance for this I-Pod trip surpassed this threshold. However, the leap frogs of destinations pretty much approximates it: 7-ish miles to work, about 2 miles up to REI, a couple miles to the mall etc. The longest sustained riding we did was the stretch from Cherry Creek back home: a bit over 10 miles I believe. Considering that higher concentrations of people live within cities or densely packed urban areas these average trip distances probably apply. Yet as a society we’ve steadily pushed away from focusing on inward urban mobility preferring to flee urban centers to well crafted suburbs where land is cheap and neighborhoods are tailored to provide the average middle-class American with access to a cul de sac, Wal Mart and Mini-Mall all within an easy drive. These subdivisions and suburban oases are often several miles (often 20 or more) from urban centers and dense business or commercial locations. As a result Americans cram onto freeways and sit in rush hour traffic for a significant portion of their daily commute. Additionally the piling of subdivision upon subdivision often occurs along broad boulevards spanning sometimes two or three lanes in each direction. So while in the suburbs serenity is supposed to come via proximity, it still is proximity measured by travel dependent upon the automobile.

As I sat waiting for Kate I caught a rare glimpse of this phenomenon in action as the waves of traffic queued up on Speer Blvd for entry onto I 25. I’ve never really considered the proximity of the bridge to the Confluence Park area: its right freaking there! I ride under it all the time but usually am looking at the river, other path travelers or more enjoyable sights, I can’t ever recall sitting and watching the traffic. Yet I found myself with time, and I couldn’t but help feel sorry for all of the flickering red brake lights as they filed their way onto the I 25 arterial to head either north or south to the suburbs beyond the city’s reach. I wondered how many were heading to far remote sites (Arvada, Brighton, Westminster, Castle Rock, Morrison), much like I did for 4 years; heading out from the city to the foothills up HWY 285, nearly 30 miles one way. As I pondered the building of the evening’s rush hour I’d notice the bikes that passed by me on the path: old mountain bikes, fixed gears, race bikes…dozens of different people out riding, some for recreation but most heading home with a backpack, pannier or messenger bag. As we rode up the Cherry Creek path we passed or were passed by dozens of people out commuting or riding their bikes. It actually surprised me how many people we saw, even on our return route west as we headed into ’the burbs.’

The investment in bike paths and bike lanes, coupled with an expansion of redoubled residential development within the Denver urban center has helped contribute to the growing number of people commuting by bicycle. I don’t know if it necessarily takes an oil crisis, global warming or economic catastrophe to help encourage people to ride. I suppose these events help assist in the belt tightening and alternative seeking of people looking to save a dime or a tree. Yet when it comes down to it I still think its just a simple question of quality of life. People like suburbs because they offer safety, convenience and comfort. Once people realize they can find these things in urban areas (and cities focus more on offering them) I think they too will gravitate to bicycling as a means of transport. People will ride because its fun, easy, convenient and safe. It ultimately doesn’t have to be more political or decisive than that. Perhaps the trick at this point is reaching out to the flickering lights in traffic and letting them know that they don’t really have to wait for that day to come, from where I was sitting at Confluence Park it pretty much already seems to be here.

The Lone Ranger and Cadel Evans Fist Fight in Fort Collins

Today 9 News featured an article about Fort Collins adding a ‘surcharge’ to tickets issued to cyclists for running stop signs. How timely! I just posted the other day about stop signs (that universe sure is clever.) On top of the fine, cyclists will now be expected to pay a $35 surcharge comparable to motorists who apparently have been paying this fee all along. The notion of a traffic ticket ‘surcharge’ conjures up interesting images of blue uniform clad Ticketmaster employees running around beating concert goers with Billy clubs. Apparently the surcharge helps to raise money to fund traffic enforcement officers.

Now after having written one post about stop signs just the other day, I don’t intend my next post to rail on about the same subject, however I do find it intriguing that the City of Fort Collins adds surcharges to its traffic tickets, and additionally has been levying them discriminately against motorists and not cyclists for the same offense. For starters, if you need $35 more bucks just raise the fine $35. Doesn’t that make more sense than adding a ’convenience charge’ or ’handling fee’ to the ticket itself? Who are you really fooling with that? Secondly, if the law states that cars and bikes are to have the same access and privileges to public roads then why on earth would you ever enforce the rules differently for one group over the other? As if car-bike relations aren’t already strained enough. It is exactly this sense of inequity between the two groups that rises to the top of the car vs. bike arguments most often.

One of the chief complaints frequently tossed out there by the ‘bike detractor’ faction alleges that cyclists want equal access to the roads yet do not abide by the rules the same as cars do. (I’m not even going to go down the rabbit hole of assumptions implied in this sentiment, insisting that cars are somehow proportionally more law abiding than cyclists. To me the cyclist running a stop sign is the equivalent of the motorist’s speeding. It can be dangerous but generally is harmless enough and enough people do or have done it to make complaining about it just a wee bit hypocritcal.) To the point of the matter, however, this complaint often is supported by numerous claims of cyclists running lights, weaving through traffic, not stopping at stop signs, killing babies, dealing drugs, ruining the traditional American nuclear family and generally carrying on as if better than everyone else in 4 wheels. Given the tone of some of these arguments, one might ask, "Why such a sense of indignation at these actions?" I would contend that the primary motivation for this particular sense of injury stems less from a consciousness of right and wrong and a desire to uphold the letter of the law, but rather comes from sheer, bitterly green envy. Car drivers aren’t appalled at the shocking disregard for the law manifested in the behaviors of some cyclists because they are so endeared to the law itself. No one loves following the rules that much! They’re jealous that inside their conspicuous, license-tagged, 4 wheeled contraptions they cannot pull off similar displays of carefree capriciousness.

Americans love their bad boys: James Dean, Elvis, John Dillinger (movies about John Dillinger), Bat Man, every Bruce Willis movie character, Jules and Vincent from Pulp Fiction, the Terminator, that Johnny Depp Pirate, Dirty Harry, etc. At some level we all have a deep seeded dislike for authority. It is in our heritage, this is after all the country that told Britain to F-off in the great revolution of 1776, and we light off millions of exploding homage’s to these rebels every year on the 4th of July . Once we moved beyond the Lone Ranger, Zorro, Davy Crocket era of lone wolves on horse back, we replaced the horse with Easy Rider, the Bandit, Magnum PI, Knight Rider, Ricky Bobby: we love our daredevils to drive or ride big powerful machines. Trans Am’s with V8 engines or fancy new Audi’s transporting and ninja kicking the shit out of Europe: we are too fast and too furious bitchezz you better recognize! What’s the best part about James Bond? The brand new $1M car and the requisite chase scene through traffic in exotic, foreign locales where he summarily crashes the hell out of it. And as much as Americans have an affinity for the wonton reckless renegade, our inner Mad Max if you will, most American motorists I would argue, secretly want to slip into this persona and become these characters each and every time they get into their car. If it weren’t for Gone in 60 Seconds sales of the new Mustang would not have been so high, likewise for the Fast and the Furious and the Mitsubishi Evo or Subaru STI. I have no data to support these observations but it seems pretty closely linked to me. So when sitting in traffic, caffeinated out of their minds, revving the grossly unnecessary 420hp engine in their new 2 ton Infinity SUV, the American motorist literally red lines at the sight of some spandex clad, hipster, punk ass cyclist cruising by and blowing a stop sign. Their inner Mad Max goes ballistic “WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!! I WANT TO DO THAT TO, I HATE EVERYTHING, I HATE THOSE CYCLISTS!” Essentially, ‘cyclists don’t obey laws’ translates to ‘why do they get away with the crap that I want to do but can’t.’

So the idea of enforcing this division by having two separate ticket or fine structures only engenders more hostilities and resentment (just read the comments under the article to see for yourself.) Placing cyclists and motorists onto an even plane in the eyes of the law will at least start to help reduce the perception that one group is getting away with something the other group is not. This unfortunately will still not address the sense of entitlement that some motorists have for public roads that they for some reason cannot see extending to cyclists, but that’s likely a topic in response to a future 9 News story. In the meantime, don’t run any stop signs in Fort Collins or it could cost you $35 more bucks and I might have to come up there and ninja kick your ass.

Happy T-Day

Thanksgiving is a time for being grateful for all that we have. So, to celebrate this holiday I thought I’d stop and take some time to reflect on all of the many things there are to be thankful for, such as:

• Carbon fiber
• Gore Tex Windstopper fabric
• The DI2 electronic shift option for Dura Ace
• Wonderfully Dura Ace components like derailleurs and pedals
• Hell all those other gruppo’s too for the Campy and SRAM crowds let’s not be bigoted in our hardware selections
• The Zipp Sub 9 aero wheel
• Brooks saddles
• Balloon tires
• Lance and Alberto likely dueling to the death in the 2010 TDF
• Bike lanes
• Phil Ligget
• Embrocation
• Tom Boonen getting off the rock
• 3 months to get back into shape
• Universal Sports covering cycling
• Cadel finally getting a big win so he’ll shut up for a while about not getting a big win
• The new ACA website
• Team rides
• Solo Rides
• Cruiser rides
• Those rides to the store when you forgot to get bread and Cheerios
• Commuting to work…on even the not so nice days
• Johnson and Johnson’s Multi-Day Ultra Wound Care Pads
• The afternoon mail delivery when you get the new VeloNews
• Fat Tire (its bike related)
• Finally getting your mis-matched Velo Swap parts to work
• Selling the mis-matched Velo Swap parts you couldn’t get to work
• Hipsters…they give people something else to make fun of instead of roadies
• Catching at the light that bastard in the SUV who buzzed you and giving he/she the “kiss my ass” gesture of your choice
• 3 feet to pass
• Lube
• Following the Tour of Missouri in a Vanagon
• Having Levi and Lance show up at the Rock the River Time Trial outside of Glenwood Springs
• First Places…Last Places and all places in between
• Pro Race 3’s
• The end of Goat Head season
• Chrome Bags
• Leg shaving
• Roadie tan
• Railing the descent down Lookout…or any of your favorite descents
• California courtroom justice
• Jens Voigt

Have a Happy Thanksgiving.

Better safe than sorry