I didn’t want to put anything up yesterday because I felt Jonny’s post about Laurent Fignon was pretty important. He is really only one of three French cyclist I could call myself a fan of. Even when he lost to Lemond, I was still a bigger fan of him than my own countryman. The other two are Thomas Voeckler and Christophe Moreau. Voekler is pretty obvious, you just have to watch that little guy dance all over the pedals and bury himself in the pain cave on every single break he makes. Moreau is a little less obvious. Even though he is a badass rider, it’s not why I am a fan. I am a fan because every single French girl that I have ever met in her 20’s, knows who he is and wants to have his babies. Baller.
The other reason I didn’t post up yesterday was because I was worked over, completely exhausted in a pile on my couch. It all started with reading Little Jar’s words and one little part that caught my eye. The part about doing a century on a track bike. I have one of those hipster rides and I have never ridden it more than probably 50 miles. There was a break in the weather the next day (meaning less than 100 degrees) so I decided to see what it would feel like to not coast for 100 miles. I took it easy on myself and picked a nice long flat ride down to the booming metropolis of Coolidge. Granted it’s not the most visually stunning ride but the shoulders are wide and the road is flat. I have done this ride a few dozen times so I knew exactly where I needed to turn around to make it a century. I got to the turn around feeling pretty lousy and I am greeted by a headwind riding back the way I came. I have never been known for my fitness, but I do know how to suffer, and suffer I did. Alone in the wind with the heat from the pavement burning my feet, and no coasting. It was awesome.
Now I know that I can do it, there is no need to do it again… for a while.
Here in Fort Collins this past weekend, we had the OneSpeedOpen, 30 something miles of pavement and gravel, with the number one rule being that you can only have one working gear. Aside from not allowing people to use gears, this aint your standard race, no one knows the route until the day of, the race starts when an inner tube is pumped up to the point of bursting, and the finish is a barn with a keg and some snacks. Singlespeeders of all shapes, sizes, makes, and models showed up for the start. Some on fixies, some with freewheels, some with aero bars, and one tandem.
After the group ride to the starting line, we are off, and there is no peleton at this race. Immediatly groups of three and four riders form based upon gear ratio, leg strength, and desire to go fast. I can’t make the jump to the first group right off the bat, so I wind up in the third group with two other dudes. The pavement is smooth, the dirt sections are packed down, and the wind is at our backs for the first half. Once we cross of I-25 the ballgame changes, the gravel becomes rougher, and there are more sections of headwinds than you would prefer. This is also where the hills are, and at the first climb I’m in a group of six. By the end of it I’m all alone out in front, wondering if I have the legs to catch anyone ahead of me, and not get caught by anyone behind me.
The rest of the course is all gravel, with a bunch of steep rolling climbs into the wind. I see a guy ahead of me, although I would never be able to catch him, he serves as a nice carrot on the stick to keep me motivated. The end is a one mile decent on pavement to the keg, I’ve never spun my legs quicker. The winner rocked a fixie, with aero bars, on skinny tires, and a monster gear, a deserving champ if there ever was one. I cross the line fifth, legs felt good, no bike issues, and the Fat Tire is waiting for all, supplied by those fine folks at New Belgium Brewing. The post race hang out is a combination of story telling, eating, drinking, and smiling, the best way to end a day of racing singlespeeds.
Aside from the OsO, the bikes and cycling community here in Fort Collins have been off the chain. I’m sure plenty people know this to be a great cycling community, but now that I have had the pleasure to live here for a few weeks, I got to say its much better than what I had heard. We’re talking top quality local mountain bike races, where the folks who mean business and the folks who want to have fun all manage to get along. We’re talking about “bike in movies” down at New Belgium, where it is completely normal to bring your three year old to a brewery at 830 at night. We’re talking about great trails just a quick jaunt outside of town. And most importantly, I’m loving motorists who don’t mind sharing the road with a cyclist. Next on the dockett for me looks to be come collegiate mountain bike racing. The kids here at CSU seem to mean business about things, hopefully my attitude of “who cares about the result, just ride, drink, and smile” will be tolerated.
This one in from out Far East Correspondent Response.
I spent a year in Dongguan China. It’s a very chaotic but fun and bicycle friendly urban town. I then moved to the spacious and bland suburbs of Huizhou. Unfortunately, because of long distances and rampant bicycle theft, motorcycle taxis are often more convenient than bicycles to get around there. Little 150cc motorcycles piloted by half crazy, sun darkened guys that will take you almost anywhere in town for around 80 cents US is the norm.
On a sunny July 4th Sunday, I was probably the only person in town who gave a rat’s ass that it was the USA’s birthday. About 4:00pm, I headed to the massage parlor at a local hotel to celebrate Independence Day with satisfying 2 hour rub, manicure and pedicure. The whole deal was complete with cold beers for less than $20 US. Afterward, I was completely relaxed and enjoying a motorcycle taxi ride home in the humid summer breeze. There is a long scenic 1km stretch near my home where you can pick up speed. On either side of the raised one lane road, you can see lakes, streams, rolling green hills, little farm plots, grazing cows and there is almost no traffic. The smell of trees, flowers and fresh water filled my nose as we putted along.
Two-time Tour de France winner Laurent Fignon has died at the age of 50 following a battle with cancer, the Pitie-Salpetriere hospital in Paris confirmed on Tuesday.
This one in from Mike L. It’s been in my inbox for a few weeks. Seems this back-to-school thing has kept me busy.
Clickey makes biggy
Ski Condo to Bellevue, WA, Ride Report, August 1, 2010.
Clare and I had a big breakfast in the flatlands and drove up the hill in her Jeep. Temperatures were in the fifties, the sky gray with a chilly westerly. I was quickly ready to roll out on the LeMond Poprad cyclocross rig. It is unsprung, with skinny tires (35C front, 30C rear). The Poprad had just been through the LBS for a new chain, adjusted head set, new brake cables and the bottom bracket torqued. I wore shorts, on the theory it would warm up, and a wind shirt. This was my second ride down the hill this summer, so I was confident in my route knowledge and equipment choice.
Susan M. DeSotel, 51, of 1818 Washington Ave SE, died Monday, August 2, 2010, at University of Iowa Hospitals and Clinics from injuries suffered in a bicycle accident July 29. Funeral Mass will be held at 10:00 AM Friday in St. Pius X Catholic Church. Father Phil Thompson will officiate. Burial in Cedar Memorial Park Cemetery. Visitation from 5 to 8 PM Thursday at Cedar Memorial Park Funeral Home.
Survivors include three children, Brandon (Heather) DeSotel of Hiawatha, Michaela (Mike) Gunsaulus of Newton, Iowa, and Reid (Stephanie) DeSotel of Cedar Rapids, her parents, Kenneth and Marlene Millsap of Cedar Rapids, two sisters Karol (Barry) Boyd of Lake Dallas, Texas, and Mary (John) Klein of Sykesville, Maryland, two brothers Mark (Cheryl) Millsap of Olathe, Kansas, and Kent (Ana) Millsap of Cedar Rapids, and two grandchildren, Abagail DeSotel and Madden Gunsaulus.
Susan was born December 4, 1958 in Cedar Rapids to Kenneth and Marlene (Cahalan) Millsap. She was employed by Quintrex Data Systems for 22 years as a Quality Assurance Specialist. She was a member of the Hawkeye Bicycle Association.
The Seattle adventure is not near done. I found old friends, as well as fall-in-lap employment, in Central. 1st Hill – an interesting, quirky area full of hospitals. Been riding a lot of pavement, both rough and smooth. Just there to observe, I got a chance to see the work handed down by dispatch at the ILWU Hall down near Pier 25/30 and this is the view around the port. Cranes and gangs. My friend, who is a hell of a cyclist, got the ‘hoot owl’ shift and was happy about it. We then had a beer and later went to Comedy Underground, and he starts work at butt early 0300. Silas has done a century on a track bike. That’s enough to gain my respect. Him and I have ridden all over Tucson together, and now we rip around Seattle.
The Oriental supermarket Uwajimaya has a lot of stuff, but most important to me, they have the sake selection of a daimyo. I share this image:
Sake heaven
My ride lunch today was barbequed squid meat and fried puffs in front of the same place. It is, in fact, close to the stadium; on a Saturday the whole square mile is swarmed with fans. The Chinese fast food sells as fast as they can cook it. Salmon prices go up and down rapidly too, bottoming out around $6 a pound for wild Salmon.
If you can't do it right...
Avenue Rainier is a busy bad road that passes under I-90, but I took one of the lanes for three loads of fence and post. Went back with the truck for lumber. I have an 8′ limit.
Doing it for profit for once.
I go to places where the nails and screws are by the pound. Never Home Depot. I charge $70 an hour if the client insists on obtaining materials at Home Depot. Thankfully, this client hates the big box empire too.
Summer is winding down and Cyclocross practice has been in full effect (affect? effect?) in Cincinnati since July. My bike just got painted and rebuilt. I rode it for the first time on Tuesday night for hot laps at Kings and promptly busted the fucking shifter. In the sand pit. HUGE shout out to D2 and Gnome for hooking me up with another 9 speed ultegra shifter (HARD to find). Until it gets here, I had Dominic put on an old 105 that only shifts into maybe 3 gears. I gotta hand it to Dominic. He had that shifter switched out in less than a half hour so I could get my ride in. I am lucky to have him working on my bikes, even if my livingroom is basically a bike shop now. He even salvaged that DC sticker off another bike since we were out of them.
Thursday night was the weekly CX time trial. This means allballsout laps. I signed up for the intermediate level which was two laps. I didn’t have time to ride the whole course (big shock, racing the course blind is kind of how I roll) so I just dicked around on part of the course, praying there would be enough bright orange cones to guide me. It was a running start and I have a pretty good remount so off I went, grunting loudly as I hopped on the bike. Let’s just say my HR could have been higher and I got passed by several people, kids included. A 7 year old kid came up behind me and he was trying to hold on to me for dear life, poor kid. He almost made it. Then Polly, my friend, came up from behind and we tried to navigate the rest of the course together, both of us cracking up as I yelled “look for the orange cones!”. She passed me and I continued on alone for my 2nd lap, just having fun. I am pretty sure I skipped a big portion of the 2nd lap and ended up with some very inaccurate times. Who cares, it was fun as shit, even if my cables needed stretching and I didn’t change gears.
October’s Cincinnati UCI3 Cyclocross Festival will feature the largest weekend prize purse for women cyclocross racers anywhere in the world, matching last year’s unprecedented $10,000 cash purse….
To get an idea of the scope of the prize money, consider that the winner of the Women’s UCI Elite race on the event’s third and final day will win $2,351, which translates to 61% more money than the total UCI mandated minimum purse for the entire women’s field that many major races pay. All three races of the UCI3 Festival will pay prize money according to the formula devised by current U.S. Mountain Bike XC Women’s Champion Georgia Gould, where the top three women’s finishers are paid according to the UCI men’s minimum standard.
Organizers of October’s Cincinnati UCI3 Cyclocross Festival say the race will offer the largest women’s prize list of any cyclocross race in the world: $10,000.
The total prize list for the Oct. 8-11 event is $30,000…..
….The UCI3 Festival, is in its third year and claims to be the world’s only three-day cyclocross festival. It takes place at three venues near Cincinnati. More information at CxFestival.com.
I need to give a shout out to the three race directors in charge:
Nick Tinler – Devou Park
Doug Dobrozsi – Java Johnny’s
Mitch Graham – Harbin Park
A couple of clarifications per Mitch on the press release that appeared in Velonews:
- we are matching the women’s payouts down to five places – not three
- it says in there that we are the world’s only 3-day cyclocross festival – it was supposed to say first (there’s one in Iowa now too)
There will also be another women’s clinic with Katie Compton, who is the baddest of the bad. Only 40 spots available and it will sell out. I took the clinic last year and it was really fun. Plus I’d pay 40 bucks just to ride bikes with Katie Compton.
Fine paid in Netke case; result disappoints cyclist’s widow
By Tom Held of the Journal Sentinel
Aug. 27, 2010
The motorist who struck and killed a local bike racer on Father’s Day has paid a $114 fine, in advance of a court appearance Friday morning, according to a Lake Country Municipal Court official.
The payment made on Aug. 5 indicates that Samuel Weirick, 20, will not contest the citation issued for failing to provide the three feet of clearance state law requires when passing a bicyclist. His attorney, Jeffrey Eck, did not return several calls from a reporter seeking to confirm that Weirick chose to accept his penalty: the fine and a three-point deduction on his license.
He also faced a one-year license suspension because the violation involved a death – that of Brett Netke, a 42-year-old father of three from Waukesha.
Netke’s widow, Darlene, said Thursday, she was disappointed no criminal charges were issued against Weirick.
“We didn’t want him to be sitting in jail for 30 years, but we wanted some real consequences for what happened,” she said. “We did feel this was a serious enough situation there should be something more solid than a $114 fine.
“I think his license should be gone for a few years, he should go to schools and talk to people and tell them what can happen. Community service, maybe three months in jail to let people know we need to be alert and pay attention.”
According to police reports, Weirick was eastbound on Highway 18, roughly one mile east of Hwy. 67 in the Town of Summit when he came upon Netke pedaling in the same direction. The 42-year competed in a local citizens bike race series and was on a routine training ride on that Sunday morning, May 20.
He was riding adjacent to the Glacial Drumlin Trail, a paved path used by recreational cyclists, skaters, walkers and runners.
Based on the reports, Netke was pedaling on the right side of the road and the motorist struck him from behind 1/10th of a mile east of Wayfair Tr. The speed limit at that point is 55 mph and the car would have just crested a hill about 100 yards before the impact.
The report indicates that inattentive driving may have been a factor, but did not specify the basis for that.
Waukesha County Dist. Atty. Brad Schimel reviewed the accident reports and determined Weirick’s actions did not warrant a criminal charge. Witness accounts varied on where exactly Netke was on the road at the time of impact, he said.
“Given the differences of opinion, I would never be able to prove a criminal case beyond a reasonable doubt,” Schimel said in an interview earlier this month. “It’s just a horrible tragedy.”
Responding to the Netke case and other cyclist fatalities, the Bicycle Federation of Wisconsin plans to pursue legislation that would increase the penalties for drivers who commit traffic violations that result in deaths. The specific proposal will be shaped in the coming months, according to Kevin Hardman, executive director of the advocacy group.
Jason Lummis was run down by a hit-and-run driver while riding his bike down Dexter-Pinckney Road on Wednesday night.
As a member of the Bell’s Brewery Quiring Cycling Team, Jason was riding home from work at Great Lakes Cycling and Fitness, when police say, he was hit from behind at the intersection of Fleming Road and Horseshoe Bend.
The impact of the crash tossed Jason and his bike into a drainage ditch, and the driver just kept going.
“He really thought he was going to die in that ditch, and he had to crawl to find his backpack and dial 911,” said Kathy Lummis, Jason’s wife.
Doctors at the University of Michigan say Jason suffered multiple fractures to his back and pelvis as well as a deep puncture wound.
I ran into the Gnome tonight whilst watching some old man softball here in Flagtard, AZ and he gave me some (lighthearted) shit about not posting in a while. I do apologize; I was on the east coast for a bit, and I haven’t done an especially good job of organizing my life since returning to the fine southwest.
So when I was sitting on my lazy ass today and the Gnome stopped by to drop off some good DC schwag, I felt I had to earn my keep around here. I wrote up a nice post about bikes and similar musings, but then something happened tonight and I wanted to write it down. It’s fresh in my mind now because it just happened literally ten minutes ago.
I just ended up on the hood of some asshole’s Lincoln Town Car.
I was riding my bike home from softball (disclaimer: I usually play fast pitch baseball and redefine mediocrity once a week, but instead I played old man softball to fill in tonight and once again redefined mediocrity), luckily using my new Knog Bullfrog light in the front and my Blackburn flashing red light in the rear (read: abiding by the goddamn law). When I came upon an intersection, Asshole in Car had a stop sign. I did not. I continued through the intersection.
So did Asshole in Car.
Never even stopped.
I slammed on my (non-cantilever) brakes so hard I flew over the handlebars, landed on my feet, launched forward, and ended up on the hood of the Lincoln.
Okay, Let’s pause and analyze.
We all make mistakes. I often roll through stop signs when I am driving, and I have made my share of driving mistakes. Even had a few close calls. This happens to all of us. There is no way around it, it’s the nature of the beast.
But let me make this perfectly clear: if you EVER, EVER, fucking come close to HITTING A CYCLIST, you better get out of your goddamn car and start apologizing fast.
This asshole sat in his driver’s seat, said, “sorry, sorry,” then drove off without even bothering to find out if I was okay. This does not pass for humanity. This does not pass as compassion or sorrow, or regret, or even being remotely kind in any way. Take fucking note.
Second Disclaimer: I was screaming like a mad man. I believe I said something along the lines of, “You almost fucking killed me, you fucking asshole! What the fuck is wrong with me you fucking asshole?”
I probably would have sat tight in my driver’s seat, too.
Maybe for a minute.
Then I would have gotten out to find out if the fucker was okay.
Summary: I am generally okay. Tweaked my ankle pretty good. My shoulder hurts, but I think it’s nothing. Could hurt worse tomorrow. Like I said, this just happened a bit ago. The worried look on my wife’s face tells me I should reassure her that I’m okay rather than write a goddamn blog post, but if I don’t get this out now, I’m likely to rant for the next hour. Better you than her, if you can be patient.
Final Lesson: never trust anyone but yourself, especially when on two wheels. People treat driving like it’s a goddamn hobby, something they do in between the important things in their lives. But nothing is more important than piloting a two thousand pound hunk of metal when other human beings are around. Keep your eyes open and maybe you can keep your skin off the pavement.
New Ann Arbor non-profit fundraising to buy tools to fix bicycles for free
Molly Kleinman says Ann Arbor was overdue for a group like Common Cycle.
The non-profit, which launched in February, aims to provide education and tools to area cyclists so broken brakes or flat tires won’t keep people from biking any longer.
“The goal is to fill what we see as sort of a gap in the cycling infrastructure in Ann Arbor,” said Kleinman, an Ann Arbor resident and Common Cycle board member. “There’s not really a place where people can go to learn about their bikes, how to repair a bike.”
. . .
Kleinman said volunteers, including several experienced bicycle mechanics, take turns at the stand and use their own or borrowed tools to do repairs for anyone who stops by – and it’s free. Kleinman said the goal is to not just fix people’s bikes, but also to teach them how to do it so they’ll know what to do the next time.
The group is conducting a fundraising effort through Kickstarter.com and hopes to raise $5,000 to buy new tools. But there’s a catch. If Common Cycle doesn’t meet its goal of $5,000 by its Aug. 31 deadline, it won’t get any of the money. Kleinman said that’s just how Kickstarter works.
It ain’t wednesday. I know this. But I gotta roll of politic’n emails that I need to publish and to speak of that, it can be quite the bummer mixture to consistently open up the mail to shit news… broke dick, as it were. I’m not so down with the politic’n these days. Its no cheddar, so i apathize(sic!) with the radtardiness of the ensuing:
Read a top notch story about the search for a lost cat. It will warm your callous bones. Compliments of Sad Cow.
Being Fixie Kid ain’t easy, boy. I don’t know where that one came from, but them fixie kids are still up on the nails. Fuck em with stones.
Republican gubernatorial candidate Dan Maes is warning voters that Denver Mayor John Hickenlooper’s policies, particularly his efforts to boost bike riding, are “converting Denver into a United Nations community.”
Dan Maes is broke dick. B-rad outta Durango takes it from the High Country News:
COLORADO
A specter is haunting the streets of Denver, warns businessman Dan Maes, a Tea Party denizen who hopes to become the next governor of Colorado. The threat is “very well disguised, but it will be exposed,” Maes promised supporters. And what exactly is it that threatens our freedom? In a word, bicycles — the riding of which through car-dominated streets spins us all toward international domination under the United Nations. You might wonder how bikes could convert Denver into a U.N. satrapy, but Maes told the Denver Post that you just had to see through the fuzzy rhetoric about green cars, public transportation and anything else touted as an alternative to automobiles. Maes said that by participating in an international group that promotes bike riding as an environmentally friendly activity, Denver Mayor John Hickenlooper, the Democratic candidate for governor, promotes a “dream philosophy” that threatens individual rights. Maes is locked in a neck-and-neck primary battle against lawyer-lobbyist and accused plagiarist Scott McInnis for the Republican nomination.
My dream is to put all the politicians into that one garbage compactor in Star Wars and see how the discussion goes.
According to “aGuy”, there are douche bags in Fort Collins, too.
Bryce Barker, 24, is accused of cutting off the cyclists on a county road near Berthoud, in rural Larimer County on July 18 about 1:30 p.m. According to witnesses, Barker pulled across the road in front of the three riders in his silver Pontiac GT and yelled at them.
No, no. It gets better.
As Barker attempted to swing at Stevens, Stevens picked up his bicycle to defend himself and the baseball bat hit his bike. Stevens states that he then threw the bike to the ground to gain more distance between he and Barker and Barker then struck the bicycle lying on the ground two more times.”
Full read at the Coloradoan.com
Take that, you dirty fucking bicycle! Jeez, unbelievable mindsets of Merica, or is this just Colorado. Meanwhile the Breck Epic is happening. I’m going to post up a few of Kerkove’s vids in another post, but not here because this one is on the down. Irregardless(sic), happy to know that Stevens came away unscathed. Unfortunately, it is much worse for others, and for the record, the biker down emails have piled high in the inbox. I’ve been reluctant to delve. I’ll post the remainder up in an ensuing post as well to, You know? Keep it consolidated. It’s the worst kind of bummer news for cyclists and to be selfish, it all lands in my inbox making the effort to head out on the bike all that much more difficult. It is a war out there, after all. Here are a few tho, that ring sad:
from: Jeff
My aunt was killed yesterday. Cause of death has been difficult for a large family of cyclists:
Debra Miller, 56, was heading east in the westbound shoulder on Oklahoma 51 near Hackelman road just before 3 p.m. Sunday when a truck driven west by James Michael Hazzard, 19, of Edmond struck her head-on, according to a report from the Oklahoma Highway Patrol. Tulsaworld.com
That shit is a pounder. Tuff. To hear it from a family member? It’s not the same as reading another report in another news-site. It’s tangeable. Although this next bit also regards death, it has a twist I almost could not have imagined:
from: Jimmy C.
subject: Austin man finishes a bike race his heart donor never got to
Second to last question: Is Floyd Landis’ bike worth five bucks? The news of that yard sale hit my desk weeks ago, then it got published in SI? Shows the value of the net… or the value of me as I have little more than difficulty publishing anything these days. Oh well. Landis isn’t worth five bucks, but his bike? Yea.
HOLLA! This is awesome. People are talking. And some are doing.
CrossVegas has joined the list of particularly cyclo-cross races moving to narrow the prize money gap between the elite men’s and women’s field. Organiser Brook Watts has announced a ‘podium bonus’ for the top three finishers in this year’s women’s race, with each rider to receive an additional $500USD on top of the prize money nominated by the International Cycling Union’s management committee.
“Would I prefer to be announcing 100 per cent equality in women’s and men’s prizes? Absolutely I would,” said Watts. “However despite our current economic climate, I’m pleased to be able to move the bar up a notch in recognition of the equal effort put in by the Elite Women’s field at CrossVegas.
“Dawn Patrol” is a term I picked up a few weeks ago on a surf trip to southern California. It is what my friends used to describe that time first thing in the morning when most people aren’t up yet and we go on “patrol” for good waves and small lineups. It looked a little something like this:
Unfortunately, dawn patrol takes on a little different meaning here in the desert. As I type this, the mercury is creeping past 110 degrees. In the summer, if you aren’t clipped in before the sun comes up, it’s nearly impossible to get a ride in of any real length. Big Jonny touched on this the other day from the road bike perspective. He hit the nail right on the head, but today I was in the dirt. For most people, in most places, sunrise evokes happiness and humming of corny Beatle’s songs. Today there was no poetry, it was just a plain old race against the Angel of Death that we call the sun.
I try to put in my work and get up the hill before the fire ball peeks too high over the horizon. I post up in the shade of a big boulder and try to cool down before my descent. Just then a breeze picks up, and it cools me down instantly as the sweat evaporates from my shirt. Its time to go. With perfect morning light and strangely empty trails I turn off my brain and enjoy the ride. I drop in and the wind generated from my speed cools me down even more. It makes me push it a little faster. I cruise through the one little technical section fast and smooth and smile knowing that it is pure speed from here on out. I take a left at the fork in the trail and climb up the last little rise. I shift it into the 11 tooth in the back and wrap all my fingers around the bars. There will be no brakes for a little while. I feel like I’m giving a couple middle fingers to the sun as I come to a stop at the bottom. I win.
I realize its still pretty early so I turn around and ride back up to grab some pictures:
dawn patrol self portrait
Do what you gotta do to get that ride in…and always keep it dirty.
My plan was to ride early. If I’m to get out on the bike, that is the only time it’s going to work. It’s hot as all hell in Phoenix this time of year, so most of the daylight hours are a bust. My daughters have a swim lesion at 8:30 am, and we have to be on the road by 8:00 am to make it. So, early it is.
I set the alarm for 4:30, thinking I’d ride about 5 or so, as I had done the week prior. Something woke me up around 2:30. The house wasn’t on fire and the kids were asleep. Went to the bathroom and drank a glass of water. Tossed and turned until 3:30 when I said fuck it. Got up, turned off the alarm and picked up my kit off the floor.
Downstairs in the kitchen for coffee and a glass of chocolate milk. Fill up the bottles with water and get the remains of my eldest daughter’s peanut butter sandwich out of the fridge. Put the blinking taillight on, sunglasses hung off the back of my collar, cell phone in a plastic sandwich bag.
I head south. It’s dark. I don’t see anyone for a while. I meet two guys crossing opposite myself at an intersection, each wearing the same jersey. We trade good mornings. Later, a solo comes by, a short wave and I’m on my way.
The legs felt good. Probably just a tailwind. The hills came and went, some felt good. Surprisingly good. The second to last one, straight into the wind that comes with the sunrise. Brutal. Howling. Low gear, really suffering. Shelter from the wind on the second kick, felt a lot better. I blame it on the wind. And why not, the wind deserves it. Bastard.
The sunrise from the north side of Mummy Mountain.
Ride back up north. Sun up. Sky from warm to pink to white to blue. Gorgeous. More riders out now, groups of fours and fives. I’m blown. Helmet off, hand through sweat laden hair, jersey unzipped. Still warm, cooler than when I started. Man, that felt good. It’s all roads I’ve pedaled many times before. The hills don’t change. It is I that has changed.
Sat down to read a pilfered copy of Sports Illustrated this morning, and saw something interesting in the “Go Figure” section, where the fine folks at SI are kind enough to provide the readers with sports related numbers which I guess are supposed to provide the readers with something to ponder. The picture is courtesy of my cell phone, so my apologies if it looks like shit.
While I can only hope that Sports Illustrated has checked all the commas, related to this nugget of information, five bucks for a bike seems pretty cheap. Still it looks like someone didn’t know what they were sitting on, and gave it away for below market value. Oh well, their loss. Who knows, maybe Floyd can sweet talk his way into getting the bike back from whoever bought it.
It reminds me of a bike hanging at the Round House Bike Shop in Bozeman, MT.
The back story (that I know) of this bike is that the owner of the shop saw it in a pawn shop. Being a bike geek, he could tell it was no run of the mill bike, and was most likely pawned by someone who had no idea what kind of bike they had. He bought the bike, then sent the serial number to the manufacturer to see what kind of info they could dig up on it. Through some digging, they were able to find that the frame had been custom built for Bob Roll, back in his road racing days. Not a bad pawn shop find.
Thats the order form. You can’t really read any of the riding, but trust me, it says the frame was built for Bob on that piece of paper. Once again, one man’s trash became another man’s treasure. Maybe I’ll check out some of the garage sales going on in my neighborhood. This is Colorado, so maybe I’ll get lucky and find one of Tyler Hamilton’s old steeds for ten bucks. With that if you hate Monday like the rest of the world, enjoy the video below from the Bouncing Souls. Just remember, Mondays can never last more than 24 hours.
Yesterday, a woman riding in the Pelotonia Tour (for cancer research) was struck and killed when a truck decided not to stop at the intersection where a state trooper was directing traffic. This happened pretty close to me, in Hocking Hills.
Michelle Kazlausky, 57, of Reynoldsburg was killed in the crash, said Patrol Sgt. Max Norris.
A trooper was directing traffic at the intersection at about 2:15 p.m. with his marked cruiser’s lights on, Norris said. He motioned for the pickup truck driven by Ervin Blackston, 57, of Rockbridge, to stop, but the pickup truck continued into the intersection.
Norris said Kazlausky realized the truck wasn’t going to stop and tried evade by ditching the bike.
Blackston has not been charged in the crash. The crash will be reconstructed, the truck has been impounded and will be inspected and witnesses will be interviewed, Norris said.
The rest of the course is all gravel, with a bunch of steep rolling climbs into the wind. I see a guy ahead of me, although I would never be able to catch him, he serves as a nice carrot on the stick to keep me motivated. The end is a one mile decent on pavement to the keg, I’ve never spun my legs quicker. The winner rocked a fixie, with aero bars, on skinny tires, and a monster gear, a deserving champ if there ever was one. I cross the line fifth, legs felt good, no bike issues, and the Fat Tire is waiting for all, supplied by those fine folks at 
