Jake and I have been on several of the same rides this year. We were both at the Leadville 100. We both rode the Zoo. We both did the Issaquah Alps. Until last Saturday, though, we hadn’t ridden together.

Saturday, Jake took me out on a cyclist’s tour of Seattle. I started from my house, arrived at our meet-up spot (a coffee shop, as is required by law in Seattle), and told him that since he knew the area much better than I do, he was in charge of the ride. "Wherever you like," I said. "I’m not fast, but I can ride pretty much all day without tiring."

Famous last words.

Control is Power

I’m about to say several nasty things about Jake, so I should problably make it clear up front: Jake took me on a great ride. You see, I usually head off into the country on my road rides, because it’s impossible for me to get lost if the road never turns. Jake, however, knows Seattle inside and out, and so we took off toward the ocean.

So now, after having lived in the area for 1.5 years, I can finally say that I’ve ridden my bike from my home (Sammamish) to the waterfront. We rode along bike trails at Elliot Bay, we rode by the stadium where fans were gathering for the Huskies / USC game, we rode on Mercer Island, we rode by Queen Anne, we rode through numerous parks, up and down short, steep windy hills.

And for the first twenty-five miles or so, I was fine. In fact, I can’t remember having such a nice ride in a long time. The weather was good, Jake’s a great guy to talk with, we ride at the same pace, and I was seeing stuff I hadn’t seen before.

Then, at about mile 25, we were headed along what I thought was going to be a nice, long, gentle downhill…when Jake took a right turn ahead of me and started climbing.

Man, I just wasn’t ready for that.

I’m no complainer, though, nosirree. I shifted down and started churning up, just wondering to myself, "aren’t we headed away from home now?"

Jake, meanwhile, happily spun along.

Then, a few minutes later, he did it again. And then again. He kept turning uphill whenever he could. "He’s messing with me," I thought, as I dropped into my granny and struggled to stay with him. But what could I do? This was his ride. And I had, after all, billed myself as the "Ride All Day, Never Get Tired" guy.

So I smiled, told Jake what a great ride it was (because it was in fact a great ride — it was me who wasn’t so great), and drafted behind him whenever I could.

Exploit the Advantage

This is not the first time the Home Court Advantage riding technique has been used against me, either. For some reason, knowing the course is an important part of how strong I’m going to be throughout the ride. 142 miles on desert doubletrack on a mountain bike over the course of 18 hours? Done it, and could do it again. Three hours on moderately hilly roads in Seattle, Washington? Totally wiped me out.

I’ve observed this effect on other people, too. In particular, I once took Rocky out mountain biking at my old favorite trail in Utah: Frank. He had ridden Frank before, and so knew what to expect; Rocky had no trouble at all staying with — or often, riding ahead of — me. When I switched things up on him, though, by turning onto a 4.3 mile brutal uphill climb called Squaw Peak (a long paved climb that leads to an exquisitely intense technical downhill), Rocky discombobulated. He hadn’t factored the Squaw climb in. I had used the bait-and-switch, combined with the Home Court Advantage, to soundly defeat a cyclist several notches my superior.

It’s a technique I plan to use again. Preferably, on Jake.

Today’s weight: 163.2

PS: I’m double-plus-happy to have the Banjo Brothers along as a sponsor of the Fat Cyclist. What does it mean to be a sponsor of the Fat Cyclist? Nobody seems to know, but we do know that it will involve me giving away a cool Banjo Brothers Seat Bag (you know, the tiny little pouch that fits under your bike seat) for each of the next few Wednesdays, at least.

PPS: Thanks for the Nalgene water bottle, Rocky. For the first time ever, I finally have a water bottle that tastes like nothing. Fits great in the bottle cage, too.

PPPS: Sometime yesterday afternoon, this blog crossed the 500,000 page view threshold. Huzzah!

Yesterday, I bought a ticket to Salt Lake City. So now there’s no backing out. I’m going to Fall Moab 2006 (or, if you’re one of the few people in the world who still thinks in terms of calendar years rather than fiscal, you can quaintly call it "Fall Moab 2005"). Fall Moab is an annual event where an increasingly large group (close to 20 this year, it looks like) of mountain biking buddies gets together and goes riding for three days in and around Moab, UT — the desert MTB capital of the universe.

This means I need to get a mountain bike, pronto. It means that I’m going to have to shave my legs again. It means I’m going to get banged up, and cut up: it happens to every single one of us, every single year. And it means I’m going to have more fun than I do at any other event of the year.

Most importantly, though, it means I need to brush up on my trash-talking skills.

Why is Trash Talking Important?

Know this: When a group of cyclists gets together for what they call a “friendly group ride,” they’re speaking in code. What they actually mean is, “We’re getting together to bare our teeth and snarl at each other for fifteen minutes, after which we will climb on our bikes and see who is the alpha cyclist — the dominant rider of the pack, the one who chooses the course, who picks the pace, who keeps the other wolves in line.”

You see, the group ride isn’t just a group riding together. It’s an important ritual, an essential component of which is the pre-ride (and sometimes, during-ride) trash talking. It’s during the pre-ride trash talking that you discover other riders’ intentions. Who is in contention? Who is weak? Who can be damaged psychologically before the ride, making them more susceptible to a bluff attack during the ride?

It’s a beautiful dance, really. And I’m sadly out of practice.

Techniques for Beginners

I’ve done some research into cyclist trash talking behavior, and have uncovered some patterns even novices can use to good effect.

• Feigned concern: “You’ve had a hard time keeping up lately. Are you OK? I can tell the group to go easy today if you want.” Or, “Man, that’s a pretty technical move; I don’t think I clean it more than six out of ten tries. You may want to skip it; you don’t want to get hurt.”
• Cloaked boast: “Dude, that is a seriously nice bike. Every time I ride with you, I can’t help but admire that thing. How much does that thing weigh, sixteen pounds? Sheesh, that’s light. I wonder how I manage to keep up with you, what with my bike weighing around twenty pounds, and my goiter acting up.”
• Anti-trash talk: “Could we go easy today? I just had a kidney removed, and am still a little sore. Plus, you guys look like you’re really strong — I’m not sure I can hang.” Important note: Do not use this technique unless you are certain that you can hang with the group, even if they ramp up into the red zone and stay there. If you miscalculate and your anti-trash talk turned out to be an accurate prediction of the day’s events, you will be known as a hangdog, whiney, weakling complainer.
• Question and followup: “So, how are you feeling today?” (Wait for response.) “Seriously, you feel good? Because you look like you’ve gained some weight. I’m sure that’s just because you’re wearing a padded jacket, though.” (Wait for response.) “Oh, really? No padding at all? Well, that’s weird.”
• Power play: “I look out at this group, and I see nothing that impresses me. Oh well, I guess I can treat this as a recovery day.” Important note: This is a risky technique. If you use this, be aware that anything apart from absolute domination will be perceived as failure.

Tips for Advanced Trash Talkers

There was a time when people used to remark that I was the meanest person they knew, once I actually started saying what I was thinking. In days of yore I have shut people down — so completely dumbfounded them with my trash talk that backing it up with performance on the bike seemed beside the point.

That, alas, was years ago. I am now so out of practice with advanced trash talking (I have young children who don’t exactly thrive on that kind of feedback), that I must rely primarily on other, more skilled trash talkers for these advanced techniques. Thanks (I guess) to Dug and Simeon, both of whom I no longer consider friends.

• Post Mortem Trash Talk: Simeon, the guy who I rode with for most of the Issaquah Alps randonneuring event — until he shot off the front and demolished me in the final hour — sent me this e-mail the day following the ride:

I realized some time after the ride that you were actually suffering from a cold or worse (the dripping nose gave it away), but it was still good to finish ahead of you.

In one elegant sentence, Simeon reminded me that he cleaned my clock, said I looked gross, and provided me with an excuse we both knew wasn’t true; the implied subtext of the “proffered excuse ploy” is: “What? You didn’t have a cold? Well, why were you so slow, then?” This kind of masterful post mortem trash talk instills fear in your opponent (and let’s be clear: everyone is your opponent). This fear will grow and fester until — and beyond — the next ride. I am now terrified of Simeon.

• Get Personal: If someone has a gut, use the gut to your advantage, even if man-with-gut is kicking your butt and dropping you. Ask probing questions: “Does your gut get in the way of your legs on the upstroke?” “Do you think you’d go faster if you lost some weight?” If your target does not respond, you can be confident both that he hears you and that you are being effective.
• Do Not Back Down: If your target appears to be sensitive, this is not the time to back off. Run up the score. This is a good time to get experimental. Try some techniques you’ve been keeping until they’re ready.
• Exploit Admitted Weaknesses: If your target acknowledges an actual, diagnosable problem that will slow him down, it’s time to lean in. For example, if he says, “Well, jeez, I just had a heart attack this afternoon and am taking beta blockers that slow me down quite a bit,” he has just made your job easier, not harder. Immediately respond by rolling your eyes and saying, "Oh, playing the heart attack card. Nice. You know, I have technically been a corpse for three months now. It’s never slowed me down.”
• Acknowledge: If your opponent comes up with something ridiculously good, you have to recognize. It’s a community effort. Immediately incorporate the learned technique into your own arsenal.

Today’s weight: 159.4

One thing all cyclists — and nobody else in the world — know is that road biking and mountain biking are only distant cousins. They’re hardly related, really. Sure, both kinds of bikes have a superficial resemblance (though that’s disappearing, as many full-suspension mountain bikes have started looking more like motorcycles), but the way they work you out is different, the mood that makes you ride them is different, and the kind of fun you have is entirely different.

What I’ve been thinking about lately, though, is what I think might be the most telling difference of all: how you react to the unexpected is different.

The Treacherous Speed Bump

I’ve been riding the track bike a lot lately. Time will tell whether that’s because of the novelty of it or because fixed gear riding is going to be my thing, but for right now, that’s the bike I’m choosing when I have a choice (ie, when it’s not raining).

But I’m still making lots of mistakes.

There are some big speed bumps on the road through Marymoor park, which I go through on the way to work. On my regular road bike, I always stood up and coasted over those.

So of course without thinking about it, I tried to do the same thing on the fixie. But as I stood up, my crank stayed in motion, propelling me forcefully up and forward as the right crank rotated up. This happened, of course, as I went over the speed bump. This put me in a nose wheelie. On a fixie. At about 18mph.

In reality, the rear wheel probably was never more than six inches above the ground, but it felt like I was about to do a high-speed road endo. Luckily, I managed to sit down, and there was no traffic on the road, so my embarrassment was mine and mine alone to enjoy (until now, of course).

Crazy Legs

That’s not my only recent near-miss on the track bike. On short, moderate downhills, I’ve been trying to use my own power to keep the fixie’s speed under control. That’s worked fine.

When I tried to do that on a long, fairly steep downhill, though, I wound up going faster and faster — my legs weren’t able to exert reverse force quickly enough to keep up. Before long, the bike had my legs spinning so fast I started bumping up and down in my seat. I was close enough to out of control that I was afraid to move my left hand out of the drops even for the short time it took to grab the front brake. That was the only option, though, and I managed to bring the bike’s speed (and my legs) back under control before getting to the stoplight. Which I’m going to go ahead and call a good thing.

Hairpin

My closest call on a road bike, though, was when I was coming down the Alpine Loop one day. It was one of those rides where everything is going perfectly. You’re feeling fast, you’re nailing the turns, and your bike feels more like a part of you than a machine has any right to feel.

And then I hit a turn I didn’t expect. As I came out of a fast sweeping right turn, I expected the road to straighten. Instead, it turned sharply left. To the side of the road was gravel, then a steep bank that went down and down and down.

I was going about 35 entering the turn, and knew as I approached the apex there was no way I was going to make it. I locked up both brakes and — instead of high-siding like I should have — I skidded to a stop in the gravel. I got off the bike and walked around for ten minutes, ‘til the adrenaline shakes finally wore off and I could ride again.

Mountain Near Misses

The thing about mountain biking is, you have near misses all the time. On “Frank,” my closest mountain bike ride back in Utah, you start the ride by zooming downhill on ledgy singletrack, with a 50-foot drop six inches to your right. I’ve put a foot down to keep myself from falling off that cliff several times.

On Grove (another favorite mountain bike ride back in UT), you’re riding on loose shale with a steep, sharp slide 100 feet down to the river just one dab away at all times.

In Leadville one year, coming down the Powerline trail, I dropped my front wheel into an erosion trench and managed to clip out as I got ejected over the front of my bike. I’ll never know how I managed to land on my feet, but I did. Better yet, my bike came flying after me. I caught it, righted it, and kept on going. It was the most beautiful near-miss of my life.

The fact is, just about any time you’re on a mountain bike, you’re in a state of near miss.

The Big Difference

And that — I think — is the real distinguishing factor between mountain biking and road biking. When I’m on a road bike, I’m all about control. A near miss on a road bike represents a failure and is downright mortifying — not to mention terrifying.

A near miss on a mountain bike, on the other hand, makes you laugh. You seek the near miss out. Really, a near miss on a mountain bike means…well…that you’re out mountain biking.

Today’s weight: 160.4