All In a Day's Ride: Wind Chilled

Weather.com is saying that it is currently 38-degrees outside but with winds gusting up to 31mph, it feels like its 27-degrees. Lacking any type of internal thermometer, I don't really have a sense of how cold is too cold. In this regard, I'm kind of like a caveman. Caveman see bright sky, caveman make legs go 'round and 'round. Granted, I wasn't out hunting for mammoth or to meet/club my next wife, but I've been going pretty low-tech (read: retarded) with the bike riding. I didn't bother reinstalling my computer onto the Trek so I have no clue about my speed, cadence, heart rate, or time. (I've got all that info stored up here *wisely taps fingers on forehead*) I was thinking about getting an hourglass or a sundial, but considering my inability to keep the rubber on the ground, having glass or sharp pointy objects near me while I ride is probably a bad idea. For now, I'll measure time by how high the sun is in the sky. When it comes to riding in this kind of weather, I simply prepare for the worst, wear whatever's warm, and ignore the pain and how stupid I look riding drooling sideways out of my mouth with my bike canted to one side to counter the wind. Honestly, what else are you supposed to do?


PS -
How soon is it before I can go mountain biking again?

OMG! Celebrities!

Did anyone know that Mark-Paul Gosselaar, better known as Zack Moriss from Saved By the Bell, is a Cat 2 racer? How lame is it that I know this?


Yeah, pretty lame.

Clubs, An Analogy

How do you separate your passion for riding a bike from your passion for racing one?

I'm obviously having trouble with this one since the recent demise of my Van Dessel. It was supposed to be the ultimate everything bike; something I could race on but also simply enjoy riding. That plan failed miserably. Now that I've become disenchanted with finding the perfect bike, I've decided that I need multiple bikes to accomplish everything I want to do bike-wise. Yes, this sounds ridiculous to the average non-cyclist, but let's try an analogy in the form of golf clubs to explain what I mean.

- GOLF CLUBS -

Woods
In cycling terms, a wood could be likened to your ultimate road bike: well engineered, beautifully crafted and designed to go the distance. It's usually made out of some exotic material like the bones of an Orca, which attributes to its ridiculous cost. Woods are all about driving the ball with a certain goal in mind, lurking hazily in the distance. For me, this is the cycling equivalent of going to the driving range, getting drunk, and whacking the shit out of some golf balls.

Irons
Irons are similar to what an ideal training bike would be: designed to accomplish a specific task and bring you steadily closer to your goal. They're still well designed and elegant, but don't cost as much. Its still a pleasure to get the distance with an iron, but becomes increasingly more important to get closer towards the green with each purposeful swing.

Wedges
These are a special type of iron. When you're stuck in shit and have no other options, you'd use a wedge. The shots not going to be pretty, but it needs to be done. In the sand, the rough, around a tree, over a bush, or wherever, if you like to mess around as much as I do you'll eventually need one of these. This club is similar to a cyclocross bikes for the crappy, wintry months. If you still want to play, and not spend your time on the rollers, trainer, or indoor virtual golf course, you get yourself one of these and have some fun with a smattering of mud and hypothermia.

Putters
The race bike. You need this club to be built to certain specifications. It doesn't need to be pretty or designed by an Italian with a storied history of hand-crafting the most soulful, passionate putters. It just needs to get the job done. It helps if it's not too expensive either because, if you're like me, you'll end up breaking more than one of these when you miss an easy putt (or when a few Men's B 'racers' fuck up in front of you). Unless you're lucky enough to get a hole-in-one every hole each time you go out, this is club is probably the single most important club you'll have in your arsenal because your goal is to ultimately get the stupid white ball with dimples into that tiny ass cup in the ground.


Hopefully, that explains a little about where I'm coming as far as bikes are concerned. I don't know much about golf, but I think the golf club analogy works pretty well. You'd also have to fit some weirder stuff into the golf bag to fully understand what I'm talking about. Like a pink lawn flamingo, for all the fixie hipsters, because it's not about effectively hitting the ball anywhere so long as it looks different or "cool". Add a chainsaw and a shovel for the full-suspension and hardtail xc mountain crowd so they can cut down trees and create obstacles on the course to ricochet balls off of. An old lawn chair for the recumbent riders so they can take swings without straining their backs. And, obviously, a sleeveless wetsuit for the triathletes who suck at everything, so they can fish their balls (not golf balls, testicles) out of the nearest body of water, then run back to the teeing area, and tee off again with a club from the '80s, which they bought used from another wetsuit-wearing golfer who gave them a 'great deal' on it. I'd take the chainsaw and the shovel and leave out the rest, unless I could find a particularly discreet pink flamingo.


You can find additional information on golf here, in this presentation by a hairy cyclist.

All In a Day's Ride: Cabbies, Drunks, and Art

So I rode a bike today. I recabled and tuned my Trek, as well as replaced the pretzel-like bent-to-hell handlebars. Its almost a nice bike again, which actually contradicts what that bike is supposed to be: my beater. But I guess there's nothing wrong with a beater bike that works well, though I'm sure it just makes it less 'hip'. I spent probably two and a half hours in the saddle today and was surprisingly not bored with it. I almost slammed into the side of a taxi after he pulled a u-turn directly in front of me. A guy on a moped (who was probably drunk) shouted at me as I was going downhill, "I've never seen anyone on a bike go 43mph!" At the time, I thought he said "I'm crazy and riding a moped in 40 degree weather because my license is suspended for driving on crystal meth!" Way off, I know, but sometimes I get a little delirious when I ride. After a cruise through Arlington and Falls Church, I moseyed on over to Hains Point. I won't say that I did 'intervals' so much as I went easy half the lap and "really hard" the other half (which was, to my masochistic pleasure, into the wind). Also, they dug up the sculpture at Hains Point last week and are putting the finishing touches on the holes left in the ground. Its coming along pretty nicely. The dirt looks simply stunning. Unfortunately, now I can't mimic the face of "The Awakening" man when I'm screaming around the bend at 10.2mph.

Sports Drinking

So apparently there's been a battle brewing between different manufacturers of 'sport' drinks. Vitamin Water, Gatorade, Powerade, SoBe, et al are going at it like a pack of dehydrated camels. Too bad no one cares (if I were lame I'd say: their oasis of money is largely a mirage). The truth is, in order to increase revenue, their marketing campaigns have shifted focus from athletes to the general (read: fat/lazy) public. In addition to glamor, popularity, monetary gain, and male enlargement, a popular way to gain public appeal is to lay claim to a low-carb (and therefore 'healthy') product.

Example:
[Using HSN Voice] "This product is wonderful folks! Not only does this ladder fold into 16 different OTHER types of ladders, it also folds into a paper crane for all of our Oriental customers and now comes in this sleek, new, LOW-CARB model! Come on, people. This is an opportunity of a lifetime. Not only will you be able to use this ladder to climb to the top of your RV at Nascar races 16 different and exciting ways, but it's also a cultural masterpiece and is LOW IN CARBS!"

Somehow, sports drinks were vilified for their carb content. Now I'm not quite sure how this works, but said 'carbs' generally equate to 'energy' in when taken in the context of most sports. Taken out of this context, and into the french-fry-greased hands of Fatty McGee, these drinks with all their carbs aren't much better than soda. The commercials tell you, "Kobe drinks this, and he's healthy. Don't you wanna be healthy too?" So Fatty McGee changes his usual diet of shitty foods and drinks to shitty foods and Gatorade and he doesn't all of a sudden lose the 50lbs of fat. Surprise! Now there's sixty million different types of bottled 'sports' waters out there and they all taste like someone mixed two and a half Pez candies in a bottle of tap water. I'm not here to tell you what to drink, but please notice that this shit is a little ridiculous. Fat people, who shouldn't be drinking 'carb-y' drinks, wanted to take on what they believe to be part of an active lifestyle, began drinking 'sports drinks' but suddenly (i.e. 20lbs later) realize that what they're drinking isn't good for them. Sport waters come about and now these same people are drinking something that's simply less horrible for their sedentary lifestyle than previous iterations. Its kind of like weening an addict off of heroin by giving him a Red Bull (with heroin in it). These people can go to the same place as those who drink Michelob Ultra. That's right, they can all go to hell. er.. I mean, a water fountain.


Newsflash:
Tiger Woods just signed a contract with Gatorade. We'll start seeing Gatorade Tiger sometime in the near future. May God have mercy on us all.


In Other News:
Urban Outfitters has hit a new low.



Oh, and I have tubular glue stuck to my pants, which further confirms my theory that I am becoming a bicycle.

On Eating

For dinner tonight I had two eggs over easy, two pieces of toast, and a beer (edit: three beers). Dessert (aka the fruit portion of the meal) consisted of a random assortment of candy I recently received, including Laffy Taffys, Skittles, Twizzlers, and Starbursts. I realize this may sound odd to the 'average' person, but you should understand that I an far from average. I'm a poor college cyclist, nothing is out of the ordinary. This comes from a combination of low standards, empty wallet, high metabolism, and slight alcoholism (although the slightness maybe exaggerated).

Eating has always been important to cyclists. Unlike elite marathoners or 'serious' triathletes, we don't seem to put as much emphasis on what we choose to eat. The other day during the Tour of California, Stuey O'Grady was seen eating a ham and cheese sandwich. While a ham and cheese sandwich isn't exactly unhealthy, it is definitely a far cry from the modern obsessive calorie/carb counting craze. Captain Doctor "fuckin' loves cookies". Big Red could single-handedly cause a local shortage in ice cream. And cyclists all over will eat just about whatevers put in front of them. Granted, I probably take it to an extreme. Chowing down on half of a deep-dish pizza with beer and candy isn't healthy no matter what sport you do, but it's damn tasty. The point is that a majority of cyclists don't choose their fitness over their food. We choose both because both make us happy. Correlation doesn't imply causality. We aren't cyclists because we eat a lot. We don't eat a lot because cycling enables us to. The old gym cliché of feeling guilty for having eaten junky food and needing to 'work it off' has absolutely no application for cyclists. That kind of thinking doesn't make any sense. It seems to imply that some of evil spirit took possession of your ability to consciously decide what to eat and the only way to exorcise the demon is to spin your legs repetitiously on an elliptical or jog with your elbows tucked to your sides with limp wrists and hands a-flailing like a retarded T-Rex.

I understand that for some, going out and doing something 'active' is a real chore. Some people simply prefer to be indoors playing WOW and complaining about the most recent Leroy Jenkins mucking up their super-battle arena. But for the other 99.99% of people who have hit puberty during their adolescent years, it can't be that hard to do something (anything!) that you like and requires your heartrate to blip slightly above normal.

A few things that aren't sports that still can be considered good for you:
-Running from the police
-Fighting hobos for raw potatoes (the official currency of Hobotopia)
-Walking somewhere that doesn't ask if you 'wan' sum fries wit that'
-Triathlon-ing

The possibilities are endless. Go crazy. Do something! No, 'being fat' does not count as doing something.

A Few Quick Things

Candy
In addition to having exquisite taste in beers, cyclists also tend to have an extreme sweet tooth. I'll always remember the day that Big Red demolished an entire pint of ice cream in about twenty minutes. I prefer the gummier of the sweets. Any worms, bears, fish, and sour kids from the patch within a 200 yard radius from my mouth are hunted down and devoured. Discovery Channel could seriously do a documentary on gummy candies and how they should be added to the the endangered species watch list.

Going Green
I'm all for being friends with the environment. Me and Mother Earth go way back. She was there when I was born. I wasn't born to a pack of wolves as some might have guessed, but Mother Earth was there providing the oxygen, land, and sunlight. But sometimes things can just get a little out of hand when it comes to being green. We started 'giving' away Pedro's new environmentally-friendly chain lube, Chainj. And by giving it away, I mean tricking people into abusing their bikes with it. It's made primarily from canola oil, which does indeed make it 'green' but also tends to muck up drivetrains. Does it lube your chain? Yeah sure. Does it make more work for anyone trying to properly maintain their drivetrain? Definitely. Can you deep-fry your bike components and serve it to Navy riders at their next race/picnic? I already have.

Newsflash: Cycling is fucking expensive
I wrecked my race bike. I would rather be covered in road rash. I would rather fight hobos with two hands tied behind my back. Well, actually that would still be unfair for the hobos because I can kick like a mother fucker. Either way, I need to find some highly lucrative means of generating money for a new bike. Dealing with drugs is kind of risky, especially considering the fact that my hobo fighting skills don't translate well when it comes to gun fights. Working at a bike shop is good for the discounts, but bad for actually making money. I'm too ugly for prostitution. I think what I'm trying to say is that you, the readers, are going to have to start paying me to read this blog.



Hello?

Is anyone there?


um...Hello?

All In a Day's Ride: That's Racing

In poker, a common saying when someone loses big is "That's poker." It's a discreet way of saying "Holy FUCK, this fucking blows" while acknowledging the fact that, as a poker player, he made a conscious decision to engage in a game of chance. The luck element presents itself every time someone races too. You can train your ass off all fall and winter, eat right, avoid booze, and stop fighting hobos with intravenous syringes, but all that doesn't change the fact that shit does happen. You can't control the terrain, weather, or riders around you. No matter how ninja-like your reflexes are, you will eventually be taken down in a race. This weekend I learned the meaning of 'shit luck'

Saturday, the collegiate season opened with a road race in North Carolina. In the boonies outside Raleigh, I raced in the Men's B category, which in accordance with new USCF guidelines, is the equivalent of a Cat 3/4 race. By 'raced,' I mean that I put on my kit, shoes, and helmet, swung a leg over my new bike, and crossed the start line. I don't know how the rest of the race went because 5 miles into the race, two jackasses decided that a level, straight, and smooth road was too boring and simply just fell over, directly in front of me. I wasn't able to avoid falling and was equally incapable of avoid the three other bikes that ran over me and my bike. I came out of the carnage with only a few scratches and bruises. I wasn't expecting my bike to be much worse, maybe twisted handlebars and a bent spoke. My bike however was DOA. The frame cracked where the seat stay meets the seat tube. The right shifter split in two pieces. And my rear wheel was tacoed in the crash. I'm pretty sure my crank needs to be replaced as well. If I have to replace all these parts, I'd be looking at approximately $1200 in repairs (at cost!). I've been questioning the whole bike racing thing at this point. I broke a frame in a crash in the last race of the 2007 season and one in the first race of this season. I've spent a good bit of money on each of those bikes and invested a lot of time to make both of them fit and feel exactly how I wanted. Its essentially back to square one for me now. Compared to building up another bike of the same caliber with what remains of the old bike, I'd almost be better off buying a new bike with a more durable, raceable, and crashable spec. I was actually thinking about chiseling a bike out of stone a la Fred Flintstone. It'd be heavy and completely impractical, but would have the advantage of being about to completely crush the competition. So the next time someone falls because they suck, I'll just roll over them like a semi in Frogger. It's either that, or I'll take up tennis or start the hobo-fighting ring I've always wanted.

Aside from the tiny hiccup of not having a race bike anymore, I've found other things to complain about. Navy's cycling team is full of fucking chatchmo's. They came to the NCSU race and set up camp, literally. They came in approximately three vans, one helicopter, a battleship, and a mini convertible. After pitching two team tents, they proceeded to set out two long folding tables which were soon covered with various foods. I'm pretty sure I saw a few crock pots as well. And to top it off, they raised a fucking flag! Why? You know, because finding a Naval encampment in a small parking lot is really difficult when there's no one else pitching tents or having pot lucks within a 5mi radius. And we all know it's not because they're proud of their cycling team. Those Navy jerks are known for their inability to do any work or ride cohesively or in any other organized manner. But as long as they can rest up in their tents and chow down after a day's sloth, it justifies their skipping on a PT and other navy circle jerk activities.

Guess where else Navy showed up? Today's training race at Trade Zone. Fannntastic. I rode up Saturday night with Big Red and his wife, Blonde Runner, after my crash and decided that I actually needed to ride my bike this weekend. I went to Trade Zone, rode in the Men's B, actually avoided a crash for once in my life and finished the 'race'. I did this all on my hodge podge Trek. I can't believe how long I've had that bike. It's been with me for over two years; since I started this whole cycling thing. Compared to my other bikes, that makes it the great great grandfather of them all. It's had to have its wheel/legs replaced, got a new crank/hip, and is getting shoulder surgery/new handlebars later this week. It isn't comfortable, doesn't fit perfectly, barely shifts, and hardly brakes. Just about everything on the bike has been replaced and at little or no cost, but none of that matters. The bike has served me well. It is simply a piece of well-worn equipment that has consistently allowed me ride a bike. I wish all my bikes had been like that. I guess I just can't have nice things. I'll have to cancel that crystal chandelier that I just ordered and return the llamas back to Llamas 'R Us.

Having all this time on my hands now I can't help but let my mind wander:
- When am I going to have money to build a new bike?
- Should I continue racing?
- Shouldn't I be allowed to fight someone who takes out my bike?
- What beer am I going to drink next?


Needless to say, I'm a bit pissed off at this point. But, hey, that's racing.....

All In a Day's Ride: Falling and Cutting

OTB (Over The Bars)
What's more fun that riding a bike? Flying off one as you dodge a taxi pulling out into the road space in front of you. Sometimes you actually hit the taxi, but other times, such as in this case, you've safely avoided said taxi only to have your front wheel get jammed into a vertical steel grate in the road. The wheel jammed so rapidly that the bike halted to an immediate stop and I flew forward onto the street. I did the super sweet tuck and roll that I was taught in Ninja School. Several people saw this, half of them were surprised a drumroll didn't precede such a fantastic stunt ("¿dónde está el drumroll?"). I got up dusted myself off, checked for any injuries (excessive bleeding, missing appendages, etc), wrenched my bike out of the grating checking it for any damage, then gave the evil eye to the taxi driver and rode on home. Fortunately my sixth sense was telling me that some shit would happen today so I rode my good ol' Trek beater. The front wheel is dented a good bit and the handlebars and derailleur hanger are bent. It's nothing that I can't fix or don't already have replacement parts for. So now that I have my semi-seasonal crash out of the way, I can focus on other things, like racing and fighting hobos.

Shaving Legs
I shaved my legs today. Along the same vein, I have multiple cuts and razor burn on my legs. Each and every non-cyclist asks why we shave our legs. I feel the best response is "Shut up." The truth is I don't have a lot hair on my legs to begin with, so shaving isn't really big a deal for me. In fact, the only I reason do shave is because I get to do crazy kung fu shit with sharp blades in the showers (hence all the cuts). I'd probably be better off plucking the hairs with a pair of tweezers (or chopsticks, if you're racist). It's more efficient considering time consumption as well as blood loss. My legs are shaved because my first race is this weekend (despite the fact that I'm probably still going to be wearing leg warmers). The team is going down to N.C. State for a classic collegiate race weekend. Saturday's road race is gonna be...a road race (i.e. there are going to be hills and stuff). And the crit on Sunday will be definitely be a crit (with things like turns and flying Asians). I'm honestly just psyched to go out and ride a bicycle really really ridiculously fast(ly). Sure, I'll be cold and do a good bit of suffering, but it's nice be cold and suffer in a different state....where taxi cabs don't try to run you off the road.

All In a Day's Ride: Bike Path to Nirvana

I rode my bike a couple times this weekend and I was unfortunate enough to be stuck on bike paths from time to time. Weekends on the bike paths are horrendous and I avoid them like the plague. I get annoyed enough by people who force themselves to enjoy the 'nice weather' when they muck up the streets around the district, especially at Hains Point, but the problem becomes infinitely worse when you're surrounded by them on the bike path. Sure, the bike path is a public good and open for anyone to use for whatever reason they want. Personally, I use it mainly for transportation, but it's not uncommon to see people using it for 'exercise'. Here are a few trends I've noticed while riding past (aka dodging) a few folks on the metro-area's beloved recreational trail system:

Neon is In
Neon windbreakers and parachute swishy pants are in. It doesn't matter if they ever went out of style, because a majority of the elderly that wear them on the bike path either did not get the memo or issued a subsequent memo and forgot to CC: it us modern folk, who have access to oxygen that doesn't smell like mothballs. Kudos to the neon windbreaker generation. It's safe, warm, and shows that you, at one time or another, took part in some kind of athletic event or were attacked by a radioactive Slip 'n Slide.

Pink Skin is The New Normal Skin
When people want you to know that they're taking advantage of the warm weather, it is imperative to dress the part. If the weather turns just a half-degree above 50, you'll see many 'hardcore' athletes out jamming out with their iPods on full blast in tank tops and thin running shorts. I don't get cold, they say. I just drank my hot cocoa, mocha latte & gatorade infusion and I'm PUMPED! Because they're so hardcore, their insides burn with the heat of a hundred scalded Starbucks employees. The heat is so great that their skin takes on a pinkish glow and thats why it hurts so much when you slap their thighs or the back of their necks with your bare hand (or a dead fish).

Everyone hates cyclists
Without fail, I always get yelled at when I'm riding even though I usually keep the hoonage down on the trails. I might occasionally buzz by a pedestrian or invade their very personal, 50ft bubble, but it's always in a controlled fashion (aka while doing a one-handed no-footed stoppie). Old people are usually the most vocal. Young whippersnappers, such as yours truly, get a bum reputation for not riding with the standard issue bell from the 1700s. If I use my voice to communicate my presence behind Gimpy McWalkerson it's considered rude, obnoxious, and aggressive. Note to self: next time you attempt to ride on the bike path, find wind-up phone, ask operator to connect to all nearby elderly folk, wait twenty minutes to be connect and slowly explain (making sure to annunciate) exactly where and when you will be riding your bike. If windy phone is unavailable, use telegram. [stop] If worse comes to worse, install an air-raid horn on bike. [stop]

iPods are noise-cancelling, intelligence-cancelling
Part of being sporty is being ignorant *ahem* I mean, achieving a zen-like trance. The ultimate goal of an athlete is to become one with the rhythm-less patter of their shoes and equally rhythm-less sob-inducing emo music. It wasn't until this weekend that I discovered the Apple had upgraded each iPod to include noise-cancelling earbuds. I ride by people who are completely unaware of my presence, and not just metaphorically either. They don't see me coming at them. They don't see me passing them from behind. They don't even see me when they run by me as I'm stopped on the side of the road to take a piss. I've actually lost count of the number of times I've accidentally peed on a runner only to have them look directly up to the sky, as if some wondrous cloud was raining golden showers. Joggers everywhere are now running around these paths completely deafened and blinded by the tear-inducing nirvana that can only be brought about through the combination of emo music and the painful realization that their choice in 'athletic' activity/apparel was indeed a poor one. (Oh, and a majority of them probably smell like pee by now too)

If nirvana involves 1980's sport fashion, pink skin highly prone to being slapped, self-loathing, deafness, blindness and the caustic smell of urine, I should probably stay away from the bike path. Although, if I spend enough time on the paths, I could potentially rally the masses to fight the other bunch of pseudo-sportsmen, The Gym Rats. It would be apocalyptic. The indoor athlete would be locked in a perpetual death match against his more rosy skinned brethren. Fuel-belts, iPods, and tiny tanks would litter the street for exactly two weeks, the average amount of time a triathlete 'trains' for any race. I'm still working on a plot to get fixed-gear hipsters to fight suburban soccer moms, but don't think I could train enough ostriches to fight in time for soccer season.

Cabin Fever

I got a feevah! And the only prescription is more bicycle!

One of the worst things about winter is cabin fever. As cyclist, we do all that we can to extend our riding season to its very limits. Cycling apparel has evolved to incorporate windproof laminates, gore-tex, and thermal fleece. Gloves now come with inner gloves for added warmth and every once in a while you'll see a cyclist doing his best impression of a crustacean wearing those ridiculous lobster gloves. Sidi makes winter specific cycling shoes for road and mtb. They even make an insole that is heated...and rechargeable....and controlled wirelessly.....for $300! That being said, there are times when it is just not a smart idea to go outside. Be it for your own personal safety or the sanity of anyone around you post-ride, which I guess still falls under the personal safety category ("d-d-duuudeee, it was s-s-s-sooo c-c-c-cold out therree. Puh-p-please pour some of th-th-that hot c-c-cocoa on my fuh-f-feet"). Granted, it hasn't really been that bad up here; actually far from it. Still there are days when I'm not riding, wishing that I was, and I can't help but let my mind wander. And it needs to be stopped.

Working at a shop is bad enough. You get sucked into buying things simply because you have a discount. Couple that with winter boredom, aka cabin fever, and you're off to fucking La-La Land with your wallet in flames. I typically prefer to spec out every detail of the bike I want from frame, fork, and headset down to the specific gauge and butt of spokes I want to use (usually straight 14ga). This winter, I've been dreaming up so many ridiculous and random bikes you'd swear I was tripping on peyote. High-end cyclocross, dirt-cheap cyclocross, SS 29ers, XC race, FS trail, FS all-mountain, 26" dirt jumpers, 24" dirt jumpers, bmx, freeride, track, fixie (there is a difference), $10k road, and even those retarded tall bikes have all fallen prey to my maniacal obsession. How many of those bikes can I actually reasonably afford? Very few. How many of those bikes can I actually provide a home for, where it'll be housed, maintained, and ridden like a good bike should? Even fewer. All things considered, I should ride the bikes that I have more often. Getting fidgety when there aren't bikes to build/fix is like withdrawal for me. I'm not sure what other symptoms may present themselves in the future, but you can go ahead and check the 'Delusions (of grandeur)' box right now. Spending money on winter spandex with funny names and a pair of insoles that are the inbred lovechildren of Dr. Scholls and Hot Pockets would technically be cheaper, but it still doesn't cure my feevah!


So if you're reading this:
Please stop me before I build again!

All In a Day's Ride: Worthless Weather

Weather.com is bullshit. I went out today in the hopes of encountering some kinds of epic, wrath-of-god weather phenomenon. I wanted to come back from my ride looking as if I had been slapped in the face with a tsunami and then struck by lighting. I wanted little sparks of electricity to buzz off my helmet like they do in cartoons. I even went down to Hains Point to be as close to the water and inclement weather as possible. Oh man, that would have been awesome. What I got instead was a bit of wind and approximately 12.5 drops of rain. I mean what's a guy gotta do to get struck by lightning nowadays? I figure the next time I ride, I'll put thin strips of sheet metal in my kit and a huge antenna in my helmet. I'll look a bit odd, I know, but have you seen what some people have been riding in lately? I'm also thinking about hosting a race in the Caribbean during hurricane season. There won't be any jerseys awarded. Instead, the winner of the race will be the one who completes each stage and has the most of his original kit still attached to his body. Sprinter's points will be dealt to whomever reaches the fastest speed in a tailwind (while still upright on the bike) and climber's points will be awarded to the cyclist who manages to get blown the highest into a tree. Each race site will be littered with nude cyclists being blown from side to side in the rain and probably drunk. The race will be called something along the lines of "Are You a Hurri-CAN or a Hurri-CAN'T?" better known as every Friday night in Key West. Unfortunately, I would have to use a reliable weather source in order to plan this event and, as I've already mentioned, Weather.com is worthless. Screw it. I'm just gonna move to Florida.

Mmm... Crabs

I'm hungry. Let's talk about food. If I could be any food, as a cyclist, I'd choose to be a blue crab (the seafood, not the pubic lice). While crabs aren't particularly fast or pretty, they are scrappy and pointy enough that you don't want to mess with them on the regular. You can't have a crab as a pet or cuddle with it. Crabs don't smile, make adorable noises, or want to be your friend. When taken out of their element, their attitude is pretty much "Either eat me or fuck you!" *pinch* Eating crab is always an event and, like most things, best with beer. I'm not talking about those pansy crabcakes you eat with a knife and fork. We're talking a bushel of crabs, a six-pack of beer, and hands as your only eating utensils. It's shear animalistic carnage and it is awesome. Oh, they have skinny legs too.

Oh and here's further proof that inline skaters are a bunch of fucking wankers.

Inline Great

We were fortunate enough to have temperatures in the 50's today. Considering it's February, that's pretty decent. A funny thing happens when the weather takes a sudden turn for the better, especially in the winter. Simply put, people go crazy. Cabin fever has taken its toll on these people. After suffering in 30-degree weather, they see a brief glimpse of hope and make up their minds to take advantage of the weather. Everyone chooses to do this in different ways. Some take the wife and 2.5 kids out to the park or to see the monuments. They marvel in the beauty and then say something along the lines of "it'll be so much prettier in the spring..." I'm not quite sure why people do this. Despite the weather being of tolerable temperature, everything still looks like death. There aren't any leaves on the trees. Where grass once flourished, hairy yellow dirt remains. The sky is still gray and the sun still sets at 5pm, which further pressures people to go outside and force themselves to have 'fun'. Winter is not designed for sightseeing; every sight you see is grey, dead, or covered in road salt.

When the weather warms up a bit, the skaters come out to play. Inline skaters are among the more annoying wheeled people on the roads. Sure, speedskaters can maintain pretty ridiculous speeds, but the average inline skater is far from a professional athlete. Inline skating, in terms of its cardiovascular benefits, is probably most similar to being 'That Guy' at a club, who stands in one place, bobs his head and sometimes does the point-and-shoot thing. Theres a lot of nonrhythmic flailing which takes up a lot of space considering the particular activity's only purpose is to look like a tool. Cyclists generally don't take up more than 50cm of road width. This accounts for handlebars that are 40-44cm and for the fact that cyclists rarely hold a perfect line (esp. if I'm drunk). To calculate the approximate lateral space an inline skater needs to 'exercise', one has to take several factors into account:

-Number of clothing items made of Lycra: Inline skaters must maximize their aerodynamic efficiency by wearing Lycra. The appeal of Lycra is that its aero advantage can be realized by every inline skater; from the 230lb XXL speedsuit wearer to the 60yo grandpa about to tip over from a heavily weighted fanny pack. Because of lycra, skaters are not only able to slice through the wind, but can actually dodge it, hence the sideways movement of the inline skater.

-Number of protective exoskeleton pieces: Inline skating is a serious sport and serious athletes need protection from the breakneck speeds that can be reached whilst skating. If you see a skater with aero helmet, knee pads, wrist guards, and elbow pads, you must bow your head in respect of these insect-like warriors. Bonus points if they have a mirror attached to their helmets.

-Number of other skaters in group: In skating, a group of skaters is called a flock (I believe this references the 'flying v' of Mighty Ducks lore). If the flock exceeds 3 skaters, be very careful. For each additional skater, the flock width increases by 12ft, which is the average length of two skaters sprawled helmet to roller on the asphalt after an accident resulting from the crossing of 'blades' by multiple insect skater titans.

The average road space needed for a flock of four skaters is approximately 9 yards. Inline skaters are thus to be considered as a deceptive danger to the rest of the road-going population. I'm currently working on a PSA about this rising danger. It'll start off with a child first learning to skate, who morphs into a demonic armor-clad Freddie Mercury and then attacks groups of pedestrians, cyclists, and dogs with appendages flailing. Given the recent meteorological trends, I'll have to rush. Springtime is just around the corner and people need to know the dangers that the warm weather brings. As for myself, I'm celebrating the warm weather by doing my best K-Fed impression, wearing a wife-beater, and proudly showing off what's left of my cyclist's tan.