The Sounds of Being Sharp

I hate the sound of the air being sucked through the top of my plastic Starbucks lid.  With each swig of my Americano, coffee is replaced by nothingness and there's an audible reminder that I'm becoming a complete square.  In concert with the keys tapping on keyboards and shoes trudging along the thin office carpet, this whistling cup o' joe has become a featured artist in the official soundtrack of a desk jockey.


It's not enough to say I miss riding my bike.  That's a given.  The sense of freedom and exhilaration from riding a bike doesn't need to be explained to anyone who might've stumbled upon this blog.  And while I'm still more than capable of achieving that same sense of adventure and excitement, those opportunities are becoming fewer and further between.  I've since replaced time in the saddle with nights out, binge drinking until the wee hours in the morning, but it's not as if my priorities have changed.  An epic early morning bike ride still takes precedence over boozing the night before, but my heavy drinking has become a function of the availability of safe, non-toxic riding conditions and opportunities to compete or participate in racing or riding events.  


I miss being sharp on the bike.  I knew I would, but nothing serves as a better reminder that your legs are worthless than attending a UCI World Cup Track race.  Last weekend I attended the second day of Round 3 of the World Cup Track race at the Laoshan Velodrome, which was only my second time at a velodrome and my first as purely a spectator.  I went by myself, and besides all the athletes and their supporting staff, I was only one of a few dozen in attendance.  Alone with my thoughts, I reveled in the uniqueness of track racing.  From a road and cyclocross background (sprinkled with a random backcountry mtb race every now and then), it was pretty amazing to see every aspect of a bike race in detail unfold right in front of you.  You can observe racers' in their element, every nuance in their preparation and race tactics.  A keen eye can spot the moment when a racer cracks, completely shuts down, and can't push his body any further.  At the same time, you can pinpoint the exact moment a racer lays it all on the line and makes his bid for victory.  It's like watching a chemical reaction unfold in a petri dish from beginning to end and it's something that you can't seem to get anywhere else.  A 'cross race comes close, but you ultimately end up having some part of the race obscured from your view.  As a spectator, watching the events at Laoshan was one of the most significant reminders that I miss having the legs for competition.  My heart would yearn for the days of pinning numbers on as the air filled with the sounds of thick chains driving impossibly steep gears, disc wheels slicing through the air, and the faint breathes of the racers as they rumble along the wooden boards.  It's not enough to say that it was an "experience."  It was probably the most pure and concentrated summation of everything I miss about training and bike racing, to sharpen legs and mind to their full potential, and the hurts-so-good feeling of just plain going fast as hell.  I know I've been a pretty mediocre racer relative to what a lot of people have managed to accomplish, but I'll be damned if I don't have plans to get those legs (or better ones) back.

Unlevel riding at a high level.

The Runs

In what was quite literally my first vacation in several years, I visited Xiamen last weekend, escaping the bitter cold, snog/smow, and general craziness of the Beijing for a couple days.  Xiamen, being a southern coastal city in the Fujian province, had fantastic air quality, warm weather, delicious seafood, and perfect conditions to run a marathon in January.  Or if you're a fat desk jockey like this Idiot, you'd run the half marathon but with slightly more preparation than the last one you did.

Honestly, it wasn't really hard to do more in preparation for this run.  My training for the Beijing half marathon in October was nil.  You might even say it was negative training if you consider the fact that a week before the run I was in the US, drinking lots of delicious beer and pigging out on multiple trips to Chipotle.  So with a handful of runs logged on a treadmill/torture device between October and January, my cup runneth over with confidence that I'd beat my previous time.  I did.  But then literally 15 minutes later, Peter Kamais finished his marathon.  The full one.  Of course, comparing myself to a professional marathoner is like comparing a sack of potatoes to a rocket ship.  The only thing that could propel a potato at a velocity even remotely close to that of a rocket ship would be my homemade PVC potato gun, but the police in northern Virginia have that in their possession now.  Fortunately, I have no aspirations to become a speedy marathoner.  Running is specifically categorized in my book as "Stuff-I-do-because-riding-bikes-in-Beijing-is-damn-near-impossible" or in the genus "No Big Deal"  That it might be fun or a challenge never really enters my mind.  Save for the beautiful scenery that Xiamen has, it was a rather boring and easy run.  Doing a run at the pace I did and for the amount that I trained can't be considered an accomplishment.  Its not like I was a contestant on the Biggest Loser or anything.  If I were to ever win a TV competition, the show would have to be named Averagest Boringer.  Being told my entire life that I could do great things if I "apply myself," I know when I'm being a slacker or when I've really got my head in the game.  Using a grade-school scale of achievement, my performance was far from astronaut-caliber, but I'm damn sure glad it gave me an excuse to get out of 'Jing for a minute.  It felt damn nice to breathe clean air and hear myself think for a minute.

Fighting through all these people at the start effs up your finishing time.

Is It Worth It?

It's a new year.  I think it's 2012, but won't be able to tell for another 6 months after all the constant auto-correct reminders and scathing remarks about my Idiocy sink it.  As it is, my learning curve is rather inelastic.

While I do wish I had posted more entries last year, I have struggled to find a more relevant purpose for writing here.  No.  I am not nor am I capable of having deep introspective moments so don't think that time I spilled my guts about x, y, and z while drinking a fifth of bourbon will happen here.  I'm simply looking for more interesting things to write about.  Obviously, I'm no longer a dirtbag bicycle mechanic, nor am I racing (poorly) in the MABRA scene.  My grease- and roadrash-based muse has left me for now.  Things have changed a lot and many of the things I've thought about posting about Beijing have been pretty base complaints about air quality, obnoxious crowds, and traffic.  I mean, how often do you want to hear about this Idiot essentially elbowing a random Chinese person in the face because he zigged when he should have zagged?  Because this happens on a daily, no hourly basis.  People here walk everywhere.  Ev. eR. RHEE. WHERE.  They do so while giving off the appearance of having a fixed trajectory in concert with the drunken stumblings of a toddler-hobo ("todbo" or "hoddler").  You could also liken it to the organized chaos in a beehive.  It's almost completely unpredictable.  They'll look like their walking straight towards you until at the the last moment they strafe right or left.  I find it best to stare at their feet, keep my elbows out, and think skinny thoughts as I squeeze by the Chinese masses.  But I do this everyday on my way to work and I don't want to complain about it everyday because some days I get really pissed off by it while other days I hardly notice it (likely because I'm drunk).  The point is I don't want this to be a blog where I constantly peddle my petty complaints. 

Nor do I want this to be a place where I write stupid letters home to let people know that I'm "doing fine" or "having fun" or "sober".  Firstly, because of all of 2.5 people read this thing, none of them are family (thankfully).  Secondly, us Idiots are built from hardy albeit slightly dim-witted stock, so there's no need to worry about us.  We're capable of surviving any number of hostile environments, i.e. the Beijing club scene, any Beijing crosswalk or bike lane, and even nights out with a few cases of baijiu.  Finally, I work a regular 9-to-5 and don't even travel enough to be worried about.  And further to that point, I'm not here to do all the touristy crap either.  Don't get me wrong, there is a lot to see here, but like my time in Washington DC, I don't feel compelled by this city's "impressiveness" to experience absolutely every damn tourist trap there is.  So don't expect "OMG. Like the Forbidden Palace is like an amazing dude."

Despite my somewhat hurried departure from the states, I feel like I had pretty reasonable goals and expectations about what I was going to encounter in Beijing.  I knew there would be plenty of things that I needed or wanted to do here and that I'd have to take some lumps along the way.  But let's be honest, those lumps aren't really that big an issue, especially if you look at them in the grand scheme of things and what I stand to gain from them.  Even considering the fact that I moved here practically without knowing anyone or a single Chinese guttural utterance to save my life, I've been surrounded my entire life by dozens of people who've managed to do more with less than what I came to Beijing with, including my parents.  And if there's anything that'll light a fire under a second-generation refugee's ass, it's the fact that your parents aren't exactly impressed with whatever tiny problems you might have.  Are they proud of what I'm doing?  Yeah.  Sure.  Sympathetic?  Maybe a little.  Impressed, though?  Not likely.  I can just see it now.  If I started complaining to my parents, they'd say something to the effect of "So lemme get this straight: you have clothes, food, and shelter and don't have to scrub toilets or wash dishes and you're complaining because....?"  It's the Asian equivalent of the Western "I walked 15 miles each way to school in 6 feet of snow" story.  So I just plan to plug away, work hard, soldier on, sack up, power through, etc etc.  But the point isn't be be impressive; not to my parents or anyone else.  I'm not infallible (hardly possible when you're drunk all the time).  I'll be honest and say that I stress out some days.  Things aren't always easy here, but they're far from horrible and the only way things will get any better is if I do something about it.  So if you asked me if I'm "doing ok," you're asking the wrong question.  At the end of the day, it's more about doing what you want, right?  Cyclist know this as a fact of life.  "Suffering" is a term too often used and glorified, but can be appropriately used in this instance.  People on bikes can put up with a lot of shit when they ride; cowpies, road rage, hazardous weather, hazardous riders, etc.  We bonk, crash, break things, and still get back in the saddle.  People sometime think we're insane for putting up with here are a multitude of reasons why we do it, but it boils down to: I just wanted to, dammit.  

So a more appropriate question to ask is "are you getting what you want out of whatever you're doing?"

I'm not here in this country because I made a singular resolution that I would "try new things."  I'm not here because I wanted to leave my family, my friends, and my dog behind.  I don't enjoy the pollution or the crowds. And a effing hate doing touristy crap that, despite several thick coats of paint on so-called ancient historical treasures, seems so transparently oriented towards ripping off foreigners.  (ed- as a personal goal, I aim to the stand-and-smile in front of as few of these famous Beijing sites as possible).  No I'm here to pursue a life that I think is fully within my grasp and worth taking a few lumps for.  And because it's still strange for me to be so goal-oriented, I leave it at that.

So if I was going to arrive at a point I guess I had better do it now:  "Fine," "fun," and "sober" are all subjective terms.  If you want to know how someone's doing, compare what they're doing to what they want to be doing and what what ultimately want to achieve.  Sometimes I use "living the dream" to describe this and can be tough sometimes to act on "dream" plans.  But if you asked me right now if moving to China was worth it, my response would be:

"Fuck yeah it was."

Meh.  City life.  Didn't come here for that, but I'll take it.

Idle Hands and Winter Wait

Whoever said "idle hands do the devil's work" must have known I was moving to China.  Since I've been here, I find myself constantly trying looking for things to do to.  The goal is to take advantage of every opportunity that comes my way in China, maybe make a friend or two, and keep myself from playing too much Sudoku and Tetris on my phone.

The group rides were a good way to kill a good chunk of time on Saturdays.  The early starts got me up and out the door before 7am and home by 3 or 4pm.  The added bonus of these rides is that I had a legitimate excuse to to not spend too many nights out each weekend, drinking heavily, eating street food, and making poor decisions (e.g. KTV).  Also, I would usually come back from these rides in shambles and it would only take 1/4th the amount of booze to knock a post-bonk Idiot down for the count.  Three cheers (literally) for cheap nights out!

But it's Winter now and the group rides have gone into hibernation until the Spring.  So without the riding to fill my schedule, I was scared that being left to my own devices would result in some serious weight gain and  belligerent drinking.  Thankfully, a fellow Peloton-er had the awesome idea to do a bike maintenance and repair class and asked yours truly to be the instructor.  And while it hasn't helped keep the poundage down, as someone who's slung a wrench or two I leapt at the opportunity to get my hands greasy again.  My crap pubic speaking skills and average mechanical ability probably don't make me the most ideal person to teach Wrench-Fu here but I damn sure have fun doing it.  We're set for an 8-course run to teach basic installs, derailleur and brake adjustments, headset and bottom bracket troubleshooting, cable installs, and a little bit of wheel truing.  I'm makig a little bit of cheddar on the side, but I'm mostly happy to get out of Bike Dungeon Ver2.0 and check out a new part of town.  The classes are held at a place called The Hutong, which is a kind of expat workspace where people host various classes that range from cooking traditional Chinese cuisine to art and photography.  I'm definitely planning to check out some of the course offerings there, especially the ones where I get to eat what I cook.  I'm still working on the not being a fatty-fatty-fatty here so going to cooking/eating lessons might work counter to my winter goals, but waiting for idle hands to do their damage sounds a lot worse than adding a little "roundness" to my belly.

Off to Class; The Extra Layers are Masking the "Roundness"

Taxiing Hell: The Competition

I try to be a good, environmentally-conscious individual.  I don't drive a Hummer, I don't club baby seals (even that one time a seal was giving me the stink eye), I properly recycle used motor oil, and generally try to ride my bike or take public transportation whenever possible.  Some days are easier than others to be green and tree-friendly, but there are definitely days when you just have to take a cab somewhere.  Like when the AQI tops off at 500+ PM2.5 and the air is burning your lungs or it's freezing cold and you're drunkenly trying to get home after the subway has closed.  Also, some days I'm just really lazy.

Having mastered the ability to direct a cabbie to my apartment (and a few other points of interest) means that I'm no longer intimidated by the prospect of having to communicate with a collective group of people who possess arguably the 'Jingiest accents in this city.  In fact, I somewhat like that about cabbies and will take advantage of any opportunity to throw in a heavy Beijing errrrrr. What I don't like about taking a cab is the lack of self-reliance in terms of getting myself places.  When I ride or drive somewhere I'm more or less traveling on my own terms.  I'm completely in control of when, where, and how I get somewhere, limited only by my legs and the traffic.  If I take a cab, I have to stand on the sidewalk with my arm sticking out like a skanky call girl waiting from some Yuēhàn (that's "John" in pinyin) to pick me up in his nasty car.  And in a city this size getting a taxi can be damn near impossible depending where you are and what you look like.  It's easy to pick up a cab mid-week in the CBD, but you won't have such luck if you're in one of Beijing's bar areas during the weekend trying to get home at 1, 2, or 3am.  Things are made increasingly difficult if you look funny or more specifically if you're white.  ABC's like myself have it relatively good.  Cabbies will pull over for us on the assumption we know Chinese and usually don't figure things out until you stumble over your first syllables.  Unfortunately, you're still competing with a million other Chinese folk on the same street so the competition has the potential to be super fierce.  Rawr! [obligatory]

So what do you do have to do to get in a taxi on these days?  How can you outsmart or outmaneuver the competition?  I try to avoid douchebag moves like throwin' 'bows and poaching someone else's cab as they're trying to get into it.  No, contrary to what you may think, I prefer a more subtle tactic (in this instance at least).  I've identified a key characteristic as the Achilles' heel of the typical taxi rider; something that nearly all of them refuse to do; something that is practically the antithesis of the taxi rider raison d'être.  Walking.  Or really just about any other kind of physical movement.  In their minds, this constitutes as "travel," an act or service that should obviously be provided by the taxi driver.  "Why would I walk have to some place that I am already going to pay someone to drive me to?" I'd imagine a typical cabber would say to himself (in Chinese).  "If I stay here with my arms flapping like some kind of bird-streetwalker hybrid, I'm sure to get a cab and not waste any precious time or energy." As for myself, I think the opposite way.  I seek my taxi advantage in light of their static positioning.  Instead of standing on a corner waiting to get picked up, I'm the kind that puts the "walk" in "streetwalker" and stretch my legs in order to better pick-up a cab.  Sure, I get a little sweaty in the process and would probably make a really ugly whore, but I can get taxis like a champ.  A few of my favorite tactics include walking in concentric circles around a particular block and walking away from a group of waiting cabbers down the sidewalk in the opposite direction of traffic.  That way when an available cab makes his way down the road, I'm the first to wave it down.  Score: Me-1 Lazy Cabber-0.  I've got a few other tips (like jump in the cab shut the door before giving the cabbie directions so he can't refuse to drive you there), but if I gave them all way, I would be adding my entire readership to the list of people I'd have to compete against to get a cab. Yes I realized a grand total of 2.1 people read this thing, but you gotta fight tooth and nail for somethings here and I'm gonna make the most of any advantages I have at my disposal no matter how slim they are.

1000 cabs in this picture.  None of them are going to pick you up.

Gifts, Coal, and Bah Humbug

Firstly, Kolobnev is an idiot and this is why pro sports are dumb.  Instead of radios, the UCI should just ban talking altogether. 

Secondly, I don't know why but I was surprised the first time I saw Smow (smog + snow, get it?).  It makes almost perfect sense that factories burn more coal to keep warm during the frigid winter months.  I say "almost perfect" because who the hell burns coal any more?  I guess in China everyone gets coal for Christmas.

Speaking of which, I'm not going home for Christmas so I guess I get coal too.  Yeah, it's a bummer, but if you know me, you'll know I'm somewhat of a Scrooge when Christmas time rolls around.  Plus, being cheery is so mainstream right now.  Ew.  Funnily enough, there are things that I actually like about the holiday, but not in the cheery universal way that everyone else does.  The so-called "holiday cheer" that everyone has in December is lost on me.  Where does it come from?  Is it just something that spontaneously manifests itself when everyone wakes up from their Thanksgiving Day comas?  Whatever sickness causes this affliction, I seem to be immune to it.  No amount of gift giving, song singing, or mouth-upward-shaping (aka smiling) will change that.  I won't go into all the cliche things that I dislike about the holiday, but pretty much the only thing I did cherish during this season was spending time with my family, and guess who can't do that this year?  Bah humbug, indeed.

Hey look at that!  A relatively short post.  Don't you worry though, once things calm down at work a bit, I'll be back to my more verbose and infinitely more obnoxious ranting.

Smow or Snog?

Counting Every Second for Six Months

I'm a lot busier in China than I ever was at a bike shop.  That's probably a stupid thing to say, but sometimes stupid things need saying.

You hear it all the time, but things seem to move faster here. "Time flies like an arrow" and all that.  Can you believe I've managed to survive here for nearly six months?  I thought for sure I'd have died from being run over by a bendy bus or baijiu-related alcohol poisoning/spontaneous combustion by now.  Six months, 1/52ths, or nearly 2% of my life thus far has been spent in China and by all accounts it seems like it's all happened in the blink of an eye.  When you face challenges everyday on the street, in the office, and at home, there's hardly any time to spare because if you're not making any progress here you're doing it wrong.  I like to call it "being good at China."  Some days you're really good at China and the day goes by nearly effortlessly.  Other days aren't as smooth and the already thick pollution-filled air starts feeling like pudding with every step you take.

If I were to be completely trite and cliche (honestly, when am I not?), I'd say that it's not unlike riding and racing bikes.  At the very core, if you're not making forward momentum and propelling yourself with each pedal stroke, you're doing it wrong.  You're not riding.  You're not experiencing the thrill that I and so many others like me have enjoyed during endless hours in the saddle.  You're missing out, plain and simple.  Riding bikes.  China.  Life.  (blah blah blah)  It's all the same.  You gotta hustle to make it work.

That sometimes means I have to give up things that you would otherwise do in your "free time."  Unfortunately that includes epic bike rides, blog entries, and going on all the super amazing adventures I have planned for the not-too-distant future.  On the bright side, desk jockeying is working out for now and I have been studying Chinese diligently (albeit with the occasional paralyzing hangover), all of which should make the riding and adventuring here all the more epic and super amazing in the long run.  So don't you worry.  Despite all the posts about how much this place irritates me, I've got plans and I definitely intend to make good on all of them.

Tick Tock.  Check out how long this post has been sitting in my drafts folder.