08.30.2005 | 8:44 am
This Special Weekend Best-Of-Fatty Post rescued from my MSN Spaces Archive. Originally posted August 30, 2005.
Bike riding has been a huge part of my life for about ten years now. You’d think that by now, I’d have at least tried everything I want to try.
To my shame, this is not the case. It’s not even close. There are all kinds of things I still haven’t tried, all kinds of skills I have not acquired.
These are the ones I can remember right this second. Some I expect to try, a few I expect to master. Some I will neither try nor master.
- Trackstand: This one comes first, because it was while I was failing to do a trackstand at a light this morning that the idea for this list came to me. You know, with as much time as I spend on a bike, by now I should be able to balance on it when it’s not moving. But I wobble, jerk back and forth, and within a few seconds have to put a foot down. Someday, I’m just going to spend an afternoon doing nothing but practicing my trackstand. I don’t know if it’ll do any good, but I’m going to do it anyway.
- Nose wheelie: My friend Rick does the coolest stop on his mountain bike: he grabs his front brake, his rear wheel goes high into the air, and he comes to a stop, balanced in a nose wheelie. He’s like a cute little trained seal doing that. I wish I looked like a cute little trained seal. I’ve got more of a walrus body type, alas.
- Race in a velodrome: I put this in the list because I’ve got the bike on order and I know for sure I’ll race in a velodrome next season. But it is something I’ve wanted to try now for more than five years. It’s nice to have something on the list I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to check off. Of course, racing well is a whole ‘nuther kettle of fish.
- Solo a 24 hour event: I’ve done the 24 Hours of Moab as part of a 5-person team, and as part of a 2-person team. I’ve signed up to do it solo, but then bailed out at the last moment. One thing that bugs me about people racing 24 hour events “solo,” though, is nobody ever really seems to do it solo. They’ve got all kinds of people taking care of them and their bikes between laps. If I were to race a 24 hour race solo, I’d want to do it truly solo. I ride myself, I feed myself, I take care of my bike myself. When I finished, I would thump my chest and thumb my nose at the sissy-boys with crews.
- Finish Leadville in under 9 hours: I’ve gone on about this endlessly already; I’m not going start in about it today. Still, it belongs on the list.
- Ride a unicycle: Let’s be clear: unicycles are ridiculous. But I know for sure my kids would be more impressed with some guy juggling and riding a unicycle than they are with anything I can currently do on the bike. Maybe if I could ride a unicycle I could also do a trackstand.
- Ride a BMX course: I see kids cornering, jumping, and sprinting like nobody’s business on BMX courses and I can’t help but wish I had ridden BMX when I was a kid. I’d be twice the bike handler I am right now. Too late for that now, but I’d still like to get out on a BMX course and see what it’s like.
- Do a wheelie drop: All of my friends can wheelie off ledges. I, on the other hand, go down nose-first. It’s not the right way.
- Ride a wheelie: Sure, I can pop a wheelie. But I can’t ride it down the street. I don’t know whether my kids would think this or riding the unicycle would be cooler.
- Ride down a flight of stairs: I’ve seen outdoor flights of stairs and thought to myself, “I think I could ride down that.” But I never do. Chicken.
- Develop a smooth pedaling cadence: This is my biggest shame. If I think about it, my cadence is pretty smooth; my upstroke is strong, my dead spot is small (I think). But when I’m just riding along, I’ll often find myself pedaling triangles (nobody pedals squares; don’t believe those who say they do).
So much time on a bike, so little accomplished.
Comments (18)
08.26.2005 | 8:45 am
About a month ago, I wrote a little something called “An Open Letter to the Passenger in the Green SUV Who Screamed as He Went By Yesterday.” Basically, it was my reaction to some guy who — as a prank — screamed at me from his car as he went by. This post clicked with a lot of riders, and it still gets comments from time to time, most of them from people sharing similar experiences, as well as outrage that someone would do something so dangerous.
Yesterday, though, I got a different kind of comment on that post:
I live in Colorado and every weekend (when the weather is nice) there are cyclists EVERYWHERE!!!! The area I live in has only two-lane roads and NONE of the cyclists are going anywhere near the speed limit much less the speed of traffic. They do not follow the traffic laws, they do not ride near the side of the road, and they do not even move over to the side of the road when there is a line of cars behind them. However, they do weave in and out of cars waiting at stop signals, they do impede the flow of traffic, they do cause drivers to tale unnecessary and sometimes dangerous ‘evasive action’ just to get past them, in short they’re RUDE… I don’t condone any violence or retaliatory action… but please, please FIND A F$%*@ING trail or a bike path and get the hell out of my way. — Becky, August 25, 9:53 AM
My initial reaction was to completely tear Becky apart, line by line. It would be easy; Becky leaves herself wide open. I mean, calling cyclists “RUDE” right before you say “FIND A F$%*@ING trail or a bike path and get the hell out of my way” is one of the most beautiful examples of irony I have ever seen.
OK, I guess I still intend to bust Becky’s chops a little. But that’s not all I’m going to do. I’m also going to acknowledge that she has some valid points, and try to see both sides of the story. I’m going to do my best to look through both sides of the windshield.
What Becky (and Other People in Cars) Needs to Understand About Cyclists
Becky might not be such a strong candidate for anger management counseling if she considered the following:
- You’ll see things differently if you try riding a bike. Most cyclists have a pretty good idea of what’s going on in drivers’ heads, because most cyclists are drivers sometimes. The reverse isn’t true, however. Becky, your perspective might change a little bit if you got out of your car and onto a bike. You might notice different things about the road. You might perceive speed differently. You might even find that cars break laws and endanger cyclists as often as (or maybe more often than) cyclists break laws and endanger cars.
- Some people act stupidly, whether in a car or on a bike. The people who do stupid things on bikes — and yes, Becky, I know they’re out there, because I’ve seen them too — also do stupid things when they’re in cars. Or when they’re at work. Or whatever. Some people are just stupid. Don’t go applying the specific to the general, OK, Becky? Saying no cyclist obeys traffic laws because some idiot nearly got himself killed by shooting out in front of you is like me saying all SUVs are populated by teenage homicidal idiots because one tried to startle me into the guardrail. Or like me saying all pickups are populated by homicidal cowboys because a few have tried to swipe me with their side mirrors. Or like me saying that all cars are populated by homicidal drunk idiots because a couple have thrown beer bottles in front of my bike as they go by.
- Sometimes we have a good reason for being out in the road instead of hugging the side. It’s possible — make that probable — there’s glass or scattered nails on the edge of the road. You can’t see all the crud from your car, but it’s there.
- Cyclists have a right to be on the road. We have a legal right to be there, and moreover, it’s the right place for us to be from a common sense point of view. If a road cyclist gets on a bike path, he’s a danger to pedestrians and cyclists on cruiser bikes — we’re just going too fast for foot and slow bike traffic. Try to stop thinking of cyclists as being on “your” road. We’re all paying taxes.
- We are afraid you aren’t looking for us, and that you’ll kill us. My friend dug has been hit twice by people in cars who weren’t looking. I’ve known two cyclists who have been killed by people in cars who weren’t looking. So, some cyclists have adopted the tactic of riding right in the middle of the road, where you can’t miss them. You may be inconvenienced, but you won’t sideswipe and kill someone. Isn’t that nice?
- We’re not causing you to take “unnecessary and sometimes dangerous evasive action.” If it’s unnecessary, it’s optional. You’re doing it because you want to. Guess what: your unnecessary evasive action you’re blaming on the cyclist is really just you being a poor driver. Sorry about that.
What Cyclists Need to Understand about Becky (and Other People in Cars)
I believe every cyclist already knows the following, so this is mostly just a reminder. And I should be clear: I don’t think the below list is true of every driver. In fact, it’s not true of most drivers. But you’ve got to assume it’s true of every driver anyway, because you never know which car is being driven by Becky.
- People in cars remember every stupid thing they have ever seen a cyclist do, then assume every cyclist does that all the time. Becky here has clearly seen some cyclists do some stupid, illegal things, and now — right or wrong — she’s got it in her head that all cyclists do illegal things all the time. So, those of you doing stupid, illegal things: cut it out. You’re building up road rage in people like Becky, and they aren’t really careful about who they vent their anger at. And I’ll take it one step further: those of us who have friends who take stupid, illegal risks while riding need to tell them to cut it out; they’re souring the automotive world on bikes (That’s big talk for me; I have a couple riding friends who I’d need to lecture; so far I never have).
- People in cars are bugged when cyclists ride right on the line of the shoulder. And rightly so. I see this all the time when I’m driving — cyclists have a nice wide shoulder, but they ride right on the line. If you can get over, do.
- People in cars think you’re much wider than you actually are. They think they can’t pass you, even if they can. Signal them forward to let them know they have room.
- People in cars expect you to adhere to laws much more closely than they do themselves. Cars roll stop signs all the time, but they resent bikes doing it. And they hate seeing bikes worm their way through traffic — it reminds them that they’re just sitting there, and that the $45 they just spent on gasoline is just floating up into the atmosphere, not actually moving them anywhere.
- People in cars look where they’re used to looking for things they’re used to looking at. Cyclists aren’t where they expect, aren’t what they expect, and aren’t going at a rate they expect. If you haven’t made eye contact, assume you have not been seen. Seriously.
- People in cars aren’t enjoying the ride like you are. They’re in a hurry. They resent being delayed even for a few seconds. If you can get out of the way and let them pass, do.
- People in cars convert their worry about being in an accident into anger. Lots of people in cars have had near misses with cyclists. That scares them — most of them don’t want to kill us, after all — and then that fright turns into anger.
OK, I see my attempt to be even-handed about Becky’s post wound up a little bit lopsided. Maybe I should have just said, “Hey, we’ve all got to do our best to get along. You chill out, and I’ll do my best to be safe and legal.”
Maybe you’d like to try your hand at replying to Becky yourself.
Comments (32)
08.19.2005 | 10:44 pm
About fifteen years ago, Stuart convinced me to buy a mountain bike. He described the rush of speed, the incredible trails close by, and the challenge of climbing. I was getting tired of rollerblading (yes, really) to stay fit, and so bought a Bridgestone MB5. It cost $350 — which seemed excessive at the time — and called Stuart to take me on a ride.
I should have known better.
Stuart took me to the top of Squaw Peak, an incredibly steep, rutted, dusty, loose, downhill, primarily used by ATVs. Then he took off down it.
I stood there for a moment, looking into the abyss. Then I sobbed a bit, took a deep breath, and headed downhill.
I made it down the first ledge. Made it past the first switchback. Made it over the first jump.
It was the second jump that got me.
I am told that I hit the jump, flew over the handlebars and landed square on my noggin. I am told that horseback riders found me lying in the trail. I am told that eventually Stuart came back up the trail and took me to the hospital, while I jabbered on about how I couldn’t remember my own name, didn’t know how I got where I was, and had a very bad headache. I have to believe what I am told, for I have no recollection of the next six hours.
I didn’t get back on that bike ever again. Eventually it was stolen, and I’ve never been so glad to have something stolen in my life.
Try, Try, Again
Five years later, another friend, Dug, convinced me to buy another mountain bike – this time a Specialized Stumpjumper, for $800 — which seemed excessive at the time. When he took me out on my first ride, we went to a dirt road. It was steep in spots, forcing me to get off and walk, but I was able to ride about 75% of it on the first try. There was no downhill on that first ride — nothing that posed a crash-and-burn risk.
I was instantly hooked. I remember talking with my wife all the rest of the day about how I had found what I wanted to do, that I was never going to ride my rollerblades again (yes, I was still rollerblading five years later).
Every day for the next month I went out to the trail Dug had showed me, until I could ride the whole thing without putting a foot down.
Is it much of a surprise that climbing became the most important part of bike riding to me, or that it still is, ten years later?
I don’t know anyone who has turned more people into cyclists than Dug. In fact, a few years ago, we started calling him “Shepherd,” because he had built up such a big flock of cycling followers. Which is not to say that Dug’s a wonderful person. Depending on his whether he needs something from you he is one of the following:
- Snide, mean-spirited, impatient and irritable
- Cloying, saccharine, and sycophantic
But he’s a remarkable bike evangelist.
My Turn
A couple years ago, Jeff told me that he wanted to try mountain biking. We talked through dozens of different bike options until he settled on a bike he liked — a full-suspension Trek Fuel.
Conscious that this was my chance to give him a great first impression of mountain biking, I picked out one of my favorite easy trails. Not too much of a climb, no frightening descents, nothing very technical, lots of places where you can bail out.
Jeff had a miserable time.
The trail was too narrow, it twisted and turned with numerous blind corners, and there was a nasty, deep, rocky ravine on the left — which he tumbled into.
To his credit, Jeff wasn’t a baby about having a bad wreck on his first ride, like I was. He’s caught the bug, and is riding more and more. He’s even shaved his legs and bought a road bike.
What Have We Learned?
I write all this as a reminder to myself, because this weekend I’m taking a friend to look for bikes. Once he’s found a bike and is ready to take it out for a spin, I will remember the following:
- What I consider an easy ride is not an easy ride.
- What I consider slow is not slow.
- What I consider an easy climb is a hard climb.
- What I consider a fun downhill is terrifying.
- What I consider a short ride is a long ride.
- If I give him more than 2 or 3 tips on how to ride, I’m a dork.
- If I take off to show how fast I am, I’ve completely blown it.
I don’t know any cyclist who doesn’t get excited at the prospect of bringing a convert into the fold. The trick is remembering to share it on the new guy’s terms.
Comments (25)
08.8.2005 | 9:40 pm
One nice thing about writing a blog called "Fat Cyclist" is you no longer have to worry about losing your dignity. Since you’ve kissed it goodbye as part of the blog’s premise, you’re free to do just about anything without worrying about embarassing yourself.
And so it is without hesitation that today I answer the question, "Why do cyclists shave their legs?" with "before" and "after" photographs. I suppose I could have also posted "during" photographs, but then I might have gotten comments to this post from distraught readers who had gouged out their eyes in an attempt to get the horrible, horrible vision out of their heads.
I think I made the right decision.
OK, So Why Do Cyclists Shave Their Legs, Then?
Well, there are several reasons most cyclists will give you. They will say that it makes them more aerodynamic, which would be a good reason…if it were true.
They will say they do it because it makes it easier to clean road rash out of their legs. To which I answer, if you’re so confident you’re going to be crashing, maybe you need to look into a different sport. Like chess, for example.
They will say they shave their legs because of tradition. This reason actually does have merit, but it’s tantamount to proclaiming that you’re a lemming.
There are two — and only two — real reasons cyclists shave their legs:
- Vanity: You’ve worked hard to get the legs you’ve got. Why hide them under a mat of hair?
- To impress other cyclists: Once you’re on the bike, there’s not much you can do to hide whether you’re the alpha rider or a domestique. But at least while you’re hanging out at the bike shop, shaved legs say, "I’ve joined the club; I’m a serious cyclist. I am so confident of my manliness that I can wear a bright jersey, tight lycra shorts, and have shaved legs without feeling ridiculous in public."
You see, when you shave, the hair that hides your muscle definition is gone, making it easier for you to admire those quads in the mirror, and for other cyclists to admire your calves on the bike. And since you’ve worked so hard to get those muscles, you feel it’s your right to show them off in all their glory.
Here. I’ll show you what I mean.
Before
Here I am before shaving. If you look hard, you can see a hint of some quads, but mostly you just see big stumpy legs.
Clippers Time.
As you can see, I’ve got hair-o-plenty (except on the top of my head, where the hair’s becoming increasingly scarce). Before I could shave, I needed to mow down the tall grass with the electric clippers. What surprised me was the sheer volume of hair I had on my legs. I swear, the below picture is just of the clippings of my legs, not of a shorn llama.
After
It’s been some time since I regularly shaved my legs. During my hairy period, I seem to have forgotten how much time it takes. Even more, I had forgotten how much agility it takes to reach around and shave the back of your knees — all while fearing that you are about to hit a major artery.
Believe me, most middle age men do not want to be discovered dead in the shower with their legs half-shaved.
So — and I can say this only because I am the dignity-free Fat Cyclist — I asked my wife for help. She rolled her eyes, locked the bathroom door (this was definitely something I did not want the kids to see), and got to work. Two Mach 3 razor cartridges later, I was as smooth as can be.
You may be asking yourself right now, "So how high do cyclists shave themselves?" Or you may be really resenting that I articulated that question, because you had successfully avoided bringing that image to mind up to that point. Regardless, you shouldn’t look for an answer to that question here. If there’s consensus in the cycling world on where the "Do not cross this line" point is, I don’t know what it is. As for me, let me just say that I’d look verrrrry ridiculous in a Speedo right now.
OK, on to the "After" photo:
Well, whaddaya know. The Fat Cyclist actually had some big ol’ quads underneath all that hair. Though they still — alas — lack definition. And who do I gotta bribe to get some calf muscles?
And What About After?
The thing about shaving your legs is, it’s not just a one-time deal. You’ve made a commitment. Because once the hair starts growing back (about 4 hours, in my case), you’ve got to shave again — because male stubble is abrasive enough to scratch the paint right off a car.
So how long will this last? I dunno. Through the Leadville 100, at least. Gotta impress the fans.
Comments (9)
08.8.2005 | 3:10 pm
Watching the Tour de France, you might reasonably come to the conclusion that all cyclists are dangerously thin, in their early 20’s to early 30’s, and can ride their bikes for up to three weeks without a rest.
The reality is a little different. Most of us are middle-aged. Most of us need to lose weight. If you want to become a bike enthusiast, you may as well learn how to be middle-aged, too, or at least act that way. Here are some helpful tips you can use:
- Wear a long, loose-fitting jersey. A long, loose-fitting jersey will hide both your behind and your belly. This will make it impossible for others to recognize the fact that you are overweight. Because you are the only person who has ever thought of wearing loose clothes to camouflage extra weight.
- Spare no expense in making your bike light. If you can find a way to reduce the weight of your bike by 20 grams, it’s worth the cost. Period. And don’t think about the fact that dropping 10 pounds from yourself would be much safer and less costly. That’s not relevant.
- Get a triple chainring on your roadbike. It’s not because you don’t have power in your legs, it’s because you want to spin a higher cadence up the hills.
- Obsess endlessly about equipment and technique. These are the keys to going faster. Those who would say that riding with more power simply don’t understand the complexities of riding.
- Buy a helmet without many vents. If they can’t see through your helmet, they can’t see your male-pattern baldness, can they?
- Learn the fine art of anti-trash-talk. Describe your potential ailments at the beginning of each ride. Be careful not to be too concrete about what’s wrong, because it’s always possible you’ll have a good day and won’t need to refer back to your pre-ride excuse.
- Yes: “We’ll have to see how long I can ride; I’m still recovering from a cold.â€
- No: “I may have to break off early; I had a lung removed earlier this week.â€
- Corollary to anti-trash-talk rule: All ailments are things that have happened to you, not things you have done to yourself. For example:
- Yes: “My tendonitis is acting up.â€
- No: “I failed to stretch and am paying for it now.â€
- Start riding your road bike more, and your mountain bike less. Explain that this is because you like the rhythm of the road, or because it builds your fitness better. Do not acknowledge that you feel completely pounded after mountain bike riding, and are afraid you’ll break your hip if you fall.
- Stop shaving your legs. Describe it as a “silly custom, and I’ve got better things to do with my time.” Under no circumstances admit that you can no longer reach down to your ankles, nor that shaving your legs underscores the fact that you have varicose veins.
- Let everyone know that “I’m just taking it easy today.†All cyclists know that some days are for going out hard, some days are for resting. When you ride with someone else, tell them you’re just resting. Then ride at 80%. If the group still drops you, well…you were just resting. If you manage to hang with the group, then you’re a strong rider even when you’re resting. And – trust me on this – nobody else has ever used this excuse, so everyone will believe you.
- Dispense advice to younger riders. Tell them their seat is too far back. Tell them they’re pedaling squares. Tell them they need to ride with their hands in the drops. Tell them to stop accelerating during their turn leading the group. Kids love to be taught, and never get tired of hearing your wisdom. Really, it’s the main reason they ride at all.
Finally, I’d like to point out that I have discovered these tips purely by observing other cyclists. None of these apply to me. Nope. Not even one.
I have to go now.
Comments (7)
