12.5.2011 | 9:52 am
A Book-Related Note from Fatty: If you haven’t ordered your copy of Comedian Mastermind yet, there’s still time, and I’ve still got copies. Get the details here, and order below:
Some things are important enough that you’re willing to make sacrifices. In fact, I’ll go a step further. Things become important as you make sacrifices for them.
Take, for example, doing a big endurance event, like a trail marathon out in the middle of nowhere. You know, like the Death Valley Trail Marathon.
You have to train for it for months. You have to clear a minimum of three days off your schedule: one to get there, one for the race, and one to get home. And in my case, I had to push my co-workers to finish a project half a day earlier than I usually would, so I could get out of the conference room we had lived in in Boston and take a late night flight home.
My co-workers were cool with it though; they knew this was important to me. They were happy to start working a little earlier each day and finishing a little later each day.
And my son was happy to come home from college and take care of his brother and sisters for the weekend. It was a good opportunity for him do something nice for The Hammer and me, even though he’s close to the end of the semester and busy with his school work.
With every sacrifice, the race became a little more important.
The Day Before
Some people hate traveling. I am not one of those people. For one thing, the BikeMobile is a great car even when it doesn’t have any bikes in it. Sure, it’s a truck, but on the freeway it may as well be an Accord.
More importantly, though, one of The Hammer’s super powers is in snack preparation for road trips. Bagels, trail mix, enough Diet Coke for a small army, or for the two of us.
The Hammer read Slaying the Badger aloud as I drove. We stopped in St. George, about the halfway point, and shipped a box with five copies of Comedian Mastermind to Johan Bruyneel, to get them signed by Team RadioShack at their Training Camp in Spain this week. $172 for shipping. For that much money, I would hope the books would get their own seat — albeit in economy class — on a plane, and get offered drinks and peanuts along the way.
The final couple hours of the drive are surreal. I’m just not used to such flat, straight stretches of road.
It’s like a Road Runner cartoon.
Once in Death Valley, we checked into our room and then went to what is pretty much the only restaurant around — as did every other racer. As The Hammer and I got up to go, we met another couple. The woman’s name is Lisa (@runlikeacoyote), and it turns out she’s the one who won the Madone I gave away in the fundraiser for my nephew Dallas a while back.
I don’t know if I ever mentioned this in the blog, but Lisa had — instead of keeping the bike for herself — given it to my sister Kellene. “I’m more of a mountain biker,” Lisa told me. She’s also kind of an insane athletic powerhouse; she and the guy she was with were planning on running the Death Valley Trail Marathon and then — the following day — running another marathon in Las Vegas.
Wow.
Canceled
The alarm on my phone went off at 5:30. We had 45 minutes to get ready, lounge around and — frankly — poop before going to pick up our race numbers. The Hammer got first dibs on the bathroom, so I sat in bed and looked at email.
“Oh no,” I shouted.
“What’s wrong?” The Hammer called out.
“The race has been canceled,” I said. “Due to wind.” At 4:30 in the morning, the race organizer had sent out an email, saying that dangerously high winds made the race impossible.
Because I had nothing better to do, though, at 6:15 I went over to the building where they otherwise would have given us our race packets.
The race director came out and said, “The winds make this race too dangerous. There are 70mph gusts at the top of the mountain, so we’ve had to cancel the race. We’ll be sending out an email giving you credit toward some future event.”
And just like that, there was no race.
We were told we could pick up our race numbers and shirts. I had sprung for both the t-shirts and tech-t’s for The Hammer and me, and so I collected four shirts for a race that wouldn’t happen.
And to add insult to injury, the shirts (both the regular shirts and the tech-t’s) were exactly the same as the ones we had gotten when we did the race two years ago. Not even a year change. Which, I suppose, is very efficient and easy for the race organizer, but kind of sucky for the racers who like to get a t-shirt as a wearable memento of a particular event.
Do It Anyway
As I walked back toward my hotel room, my initial reaction was to trust the race director. That would be a hard call to make, and he almost certainly had more information than I did. Right?
But by the time I got back to the room — about five minutes — I had changed my mind.
“I think the race director gave up too easily,” I told The Hammer. “I don’t think he does big endurance events himself. I don’t think he understands the sacrifice we’ve made to get here. I don’t think he considered that people who picked this particular event don’t just accept the risk of a hard race and bad weather, we see it as part of the adventure.”
The Hammer agreed. “Why cancel it? Why not make it a half marathon (which was one of the race options anyway), starting us at the end of the course, into Titus canyon, and then turning around? We’d be protected from the wind that way. That would be at least something.”
“Well, I guess we could do that on our own,” I said.
“Let’s go,” said The Hammer.
The Run
We drove out to the Titus Canyon parking lot…and were surprised to see that there were dozens and dozens of cars there.
Apparently, we weren’t the only ones to decide that the weather didn’t warrant a cancellation of the event.
The two hundred yards or so we ran before getting into the incredibly steep, narrow Titus Canyon was indeed windy, though I wouldn’t have called it dangerously windy. More like “inconveniently” windy.
And then, once into the canyon, the wind died down, and the Hammer and I started enjoying a run in one of the most incredibly beautiful, stark, steep canyons you could ever imagine.
“Well, at least since this isn’t a race, there’s nothing to stop us from using iPods,” said The Hammer. And I couldn’t have agreed more. On a bike, I can take or leave music. When running, it’s downright critical.
Our plan was to run up — and I definitely want to underscore the “up” part of “up” here — for 6.5 miles, turn around, and run back to the BikeMobile.
Every couple of minutes, we’d encounter another group of runners, sometimes passing, sometimes coming the other direction. We’d smile and wave: Hey, nice job doing a run in this highly treacherous, dangerously windy canyon!
Discarded jackets lay everywhere (including mine). Too warm. We’d pick them up on the way back.
I was suffering, but in silence. I was telling myself, “OK, Fatty” (for sometimes I do call myself “Fatty”), “just keep it together ’til the turnaround, and then it’s all downhill. The Hammer doesn’t need to know that you’re having a bad day. You don’t need to tell her the excuses you’re cooking up in your head: not much time to train lately, no exercise at all this past week, seasonal weight gain making it hard to run uphill, etc., etc., etc.”
Which was when The Hammer turned toward me and said, brightly, “This is such a fun run! Let’s go further!”
I literally — not figuratively, but literally literally — stopped in my tracks.
Now, I don’t usually say words in anger, because I am not an angry person. I am, in fact, one of those people who just doesn’t get mad often. I’m not boasting when I say that I am a cheerful person. It’s just how I am.
But when The Hammer said this, I got mad.
“I’ve told you before how much I hate it when you change the running route in the middle of the run!” I said, in what passes for my angry voice. “You know how that messes with my mind!”
“Oh, don’t be such a grouch,” The Hammer replied. “This is a beautiful run, and I want to see more of this canyon.”
“We’ll see all of the good part of the canyon in the 6.5 miles we agreed to,” I said, with maximum surliness. “But I’ll agree to changing the turn around point to seven miles.”
“OK, seven miles,” said The Hammer. “Now, stop being a grump. This is a beautiful run.”
And she was right.
Or at least, she was right until we came out of the steepest part of the canyon about six miles into the run. The wind suddenly became fierce, and the road continued to be steeply uphill. It slowed me to a walk a couple of times.
I thought about how difficult it would have been for me to finish a complete marathon, though I don’t want you to mistake this for me being grateful the marathon had been canceled. If I’m weak, I want it exposed. If I’m going to suffer, I want to be able to tell the story of my suffering, not have that story taken away from me.
If it’s going to be windy, I want to deal with the wind or be turned around by it, not have that choice made for me by someone who doesn’t understand.
More than ever, I became convinced that the race organizer had just given up — taken an easy way out — rather than try to find a way to respect what racers bring to this kind of a race, and what we’ve sacrificed to be here.
And I made up an “If I Were King” rule:
Race Organizers Must Regularly Participate In The Kind of Race They Promote, Lest They Begin Just Phoning It In.
But enough soapboxing. For now.
The Hammer and I struggled for that mile. She got to the turnaround point about thirty seconds before I did, turned around and smiled at me as I very slowly ran to her. She hugged me and said, “Seven miles was plenty.”
We turned around and started running down, with a powerful tailwind combining with a steep downhill pushing us hard. At times, it felt like all my effort was going into braking.
I felt better, running downhill, which is probably the least surprising thing I have ever written. The miles flew by and I felt good enough to admire the incredible beauty of Titus Canyon.
Then the canyon abruptly ends — seriously, one moment you’re in it, with cliffs rising straight up on either side of you, the next moment you’re out — and we were back at The BikeMobile.
It was a good run. I was beat, and happily spent the rest of the day seeing some of the local sights, reading with The Hammer, and laying around.
But I can’t help but wish knowing how — or whether — I’d have finished a marathon that day.
PS: It looks like Lisa (aka @runlikeacoyote) went ahead and did the whole marathon, unsupported. Impressive! Read her report here.
Comments (26)
12.1.2011 | 3:32 pm
A “What? You Still Haven’t Bought My Book?” Note from Fatty : I’ll be sending out the last of the pre-ordered copies of Comedian Mastermind: The Best of FatCyclist.com, 2005-2007 , this Monday, which means I now have a pretty good idea of how many books I have left over.
And I’ve got more than 100 left over. Which means unless I sell some of these, everyone I know is going to get a copy for Christmas. And for their birthdays. For the next eight years.
Which means that you can still order a book and — if you’re in the US — have a very good chance of it arriving before Christmas.
If you’re outside the US, well, I’m currently looking into a way for you to order a book without it being back-breakingly expensive, postage-wise. So don’t order a book right now, but know that I’m working on it. Specifically, at least for Europe, I’m talking with a guy about shipping a whole buncha copies to him, and having him shipping them out from there. I think that would save us each some money. Cool?
Meanwhile, if you’re in the US, just use the order form below. I should be able to get you your book in plenty of time for you to give as a gift, or just to read for yourself. And this time of year, it’s kinda nice to do something for yourself, right? Right.
The 2012 Plan, Part II
Let me begin this post by saying “thanks.” Your comments yesterday, listing a buncha really interesting rides, gave me a serious case of wanderlust. With all the cool events you people have got me adding to my bucket list, I’m going to need a bigger bucket.
With that said, here’s part 2 of my “To Do” event list for 2012
Timp Trail 50K (October 13)
This one’s another running event, and kinda scary, and kinda tentative. Basically, it’s like a seriously hard marathon plus another few miles, on seriously climby fire road and single track. In October.
The Hammer wants to do it, though, and I like doing stuff with The Hammer. I am beginning to get the sense, I’ve got to say, that she’s doing more and more off-road endurance runs with something bigger in mind. Something that begins with “L” and ends with “eadville 100.”
AF Canyon Half Marathon (June 25)
I love that this event benefits those who can’t afford their cancer treatment, and I love that it is in my favorite place in the world. And I love that it is all downhill and is very, very fast. And I love that it goes by where The Hammer and I got married.
I love everything about this race, really.
Tour de Pink: West Coast
Along with the LiveStrong Challenge in Davis, this is going to be the other big Team Fatty Fundraiser in 2012. I expect this will be in October (but I don’t have dates). Dustin Brady of Shimano and I are going to show the Young Survival Coalition what happens when a couple of guys who really hate cancer bring in the big guns (hint: you guys are the big guns).
More info on this soon.
Levi’s Gran Fondo
This one’s a can’t-miss. I just love doing this ride. And I love the after-ride carnival atmosphere even more. It’s just a great weekend. Even though Levi Leipheimer’s always walking around like he’s some kind of bigshot or something.
Other Stuff That’s On My Mind
Those are just the big events. There are other things I want to do, too:
- A 24 Hour Race, Solo: This is something I’ve thought about doing, but have never done. I think 2012 is the year I might do it. I believe that it will make for the most repetitive and whiney race report ever.
- Weekly Races: There’s a cool weekly MTB race series close to where I live. Every year I think to myself that I ought to get involved with it. As in, both race it and provide prizes and stuff. I think that this year, I’m going to make good on that threat.
- Start Getting Ready for Another Ironman: The Hammer and I once promised ourselves that we would never do another Ironman. I think that in 2013 (not 2012) we’ll break that promise. And I believe we’ll break that promise in New Zealand. Mostly because we both really want to visit New Zealand someday. And you know what would be cool? If you started training for that exact same race (i.e., the 2013 New Zealand Ironman) and did it with us.
- Other Local Races: Cyclists in Utah are lucky; once you get into Spring, it’s a rare weekend that doesn’t have a cool local event. I want to start being a part of those, too.
This Weekend
All of that’s in the future, though. This weekend — tomorrow, in fact — The Hammer and I are running the 2011 Death Valley Trail Marathon.
I believe next week I shall have something to say about how it goes.
Comments (46)
12.1.2011 | 7:57 am
A “Well, That’s a Nice Surprise” Note from Fatty: As a beloved, Lifetime Achievement-winning, cycling comedy blogging celebrity mega-super-duperstar and social media guru, you’d think that I would get tired of nice things being said about me. Well, you would be wrong, and I’d appreciate your not being so presumptuous, thanks.
The fact is, I’m a sucker for praise. And praise from an unexpected corner is unexpectedly nice.
So it was an especially nice surprise to get listed in Outside Magazine’s Top 10 Biking Blogs article yesterday. Check me out, I’m at number 5. Comfortably in the middle. Here’s what they had to say about me:
It’s worth checking out the whole article; I was happy to see my friends BSNYC, Boulder Report and Red Kite Prayer (at number 1, congrats Padraig!) in there, too, and found it was a great list for introducing me to some good blogs I hadn’t previously heard of. So: nice job and thanks to Aaron Gulley at Outside!
The Big Events I’d Plan to Attend in 2012 If The World Weren’t Going to End
It’s a shame that 2012 is when the world is going to end, because I’ve already loaded it up with a bunch of fun and interesting biking events I really want to do.
And the thing is, I haven’t even really been looking for good events, yet. A bunch have just fallen into my lap. Once I start spending time looking around, I expect this calendar is going to be loaded up even more.
I figure it’s worth putting this list up now, though, so just in case you’re looking for events to fill your calendar up. Then we could hang out and stuff. That would be awesome.
Note: This list includes running events, in addition to cycling events. This was unavoidable, seeing as how The Hammer is also The Runner.
I apologize in advance.
Moab Canyonlands Half Marathon (March 17)
The first event of the year is a run. This will be, I believe, The Hammer’s eleventh annual running of this race. As a guy who knows a little something about not liking to break a streak, I definitely want her to do this run. I will join her at the start line, and she will wait for me at the finish line.
Boston Marathon (April 16)
The Hammer qualified for the Boston Marathon at Ogden last year. I’ll be coming along in a LiveStrong Charity slot. And the cool thing is, I’ve been given permission for four other Team Fatty members to sign up and run the Boston with us, too! Stay tuned for details on how you can be part of Team Fatty for this event.
Ogden Marathon (May 19)
I have a special place in my heart for this marathon for two reasons. First, because it’s where The Hammer qualified for the Boston Marathon, and that was important to her (which makes it important to me). Second, it’s the first time I’ve ever been proud of how I ran a race. Hey, I finished under four hours. For me, that’s a big deal.
100 Miles of Nowhere
Note that I don’t have a date for the 2012 100 Miles of Nowhere yet, but also note that I definitely want to do it. Further, note that I plan to do it sometime during the year when people can do it outside, since that’s increasingly the more popular way to do this event.
And finally, note that I think it might be fun to have anyone who wants to come on over to my neck of the woods do this event with me. Note that it will be the hardest 100 Miles of Nowhere I’ve ever done: I’m thinking this year I might make it be the 100 Miles of Nowhere: Alpine Loop Summit Edition.
If you’ve got an opinion on when this event ought to be, now’s the time to make it known.
Rockwell Relay: Moab to St. George: June 8-9
The 2011 Rockwell Relay may well have been the most fun I have ever had during a race (I believe it also holds the record for longest race report: five parts!). The Hammer concurs; she made it clear this is a must-do event this year.
520 miles, as a non-stop relay, through some of the most incredibly beautiful land you will ever see (or during the night legs, will not see).
Kenny, Heather, The Hammer, and I will all be there to defend our title as the fastest Co-Ed team. Anyone wanna take us on?
Davis LiveStrong Challenge (July ??)
In 2011, Team Fatty completely owned the LiveStrong Challenge Davis. Also, it was my favorite LiveStrong Challenge ever. So — at least for now — I’d like to make Davis the annual Team Fatty LiveStrong Challenge event.
I don’t have a date yet (it’s supposed to be announced today), but I’ll definitely be creating a team, and raising money for this event. I hope you’ll want to join Team Fatty. We’ll be accomplishing a lot of good, and we’ll be having a lot of fun.
And I would not be at all surprised if there were pie involved.
Tour de Donut: July 14
Will Team Fatty once again be the title sponsor of the Utah Tour de Donut?
Quite possibly.
One thing’s for sure, though. I’ll be there. Another thing is probable: Paul Guyot and his son Bucky will be there.
And one final thing is for sure: everyone will feel ill afterward.
Leadville 100
This will be my 16th Leadville 100. It will be The Hammer’s 8th. And if all goes well, it will be the IT Guy’s first.
The Hammer and I have a plan for this edition of this race, and it is to ride alongside The IT Guy, pacing him and making sure he does everything right. Keeping his spirits up. Giving him the benefit of our combined twenty-one finishes in this race.
The IT Guy, it should be noted, hates this plan. He wants nothing to do with it and wants to ride by himself.
To which I reply, “You’re welcome to, if you think you can drop us.”
Breck Epic (August 12-17)
The real reason The Hammer and I aren’t planning to race The Leadville 100 at an all-out pace this year, though, is that the very next day we’re going to be doing our first six-day mountain biking stage race: The Breck Epic.
That’s right. We’re going to do The Leadville 100, and then do six more days of mountain bike racing, starting the next day.
Because we want to, that’s why.
We plan to race in the Open Mixed Duo category, which means a gal and a guy, racing together, always staying within eyesight of each other, for six days.
Honestly, this is the event I am most excited about for the year.
Part II Coming Soon
I’ll let you in on a little secret. Right now I’m in Boston, for work. It’s been an intense week, without a lot of time for writing or anything else (including exercise). And I’ve got to get to a meeting (which cannot start without me, since I’m l leading it) right now.
So the rest of the year’s gonna have to wait. I’ll post it tomorrow.
Meanwhile, let me know what events you’re doing…and if there are events you think I’m missing that I absolutely positively ought to be doing too.
Comments (59)
11.29.2011 | 5:00 am
Sometimes, readers, I am amazed at how perceptive you all are. I post a photo, and you notice something peculiar and interesting in the background. I write 800 words about nothing whatsoever, and you notice that I tend to use dangling participles.
Yes, at times I am truly impressed with how astute you are.
This, alas, is not one of those times.
See, a couple of weeks ago I went on a three-day trip out to St. George, Utah to ride with friends. And then I came back and wrote about only two of those days.
“Where,” you should have asked, “is the report for the third day?”
“Why,” you should have continued, “are you not describing the events of the ride or even where you went riding on that final day of Fall Moab?”
Which is too bad, because if you had asked that, I would have been able to be coy and not answer, or perhaps given an offhanded response along the lines of, “Be patient; I’m still thinking about the last ride of the trip. I’ll get to it soon.”
In which case I would have had a completely different opening for today’s post. And frankly, it would probably have been a better one, because I wouldn’t have been attacking you for not tracking the minutia of my life.
Anyway, I’m ready to start talking about this ride now. I think.
A Question of Great Importance
I’d like you to think about your favorite ride for a moment. OK, that may not be easy to do, because you’ve probably got quite a few rides that might qualify as your favorite, depending on your mood or the kind of riding you feel like doing. So let’s think in terms of your three favorite rides. The three rides you would do if you were told that you could do only three rides for the rest of your life.
Since I’m the kind of person who likes “If you had to choose only 3 things” types of questions, I have already given this question some thought, and am prepared to answer that the following three rides are my all-time favorites:
1. Super Tibble (MTB): Tibble Fork Reservoir to Joy to Alpine Loop Summit to Mud Springs to Tibble and back to the Reservoir
2. Alpine Loop (Road): Home to Alpine Loop Summit to Cascade Springs, back to Summit, down to Provo Canyon, and then back up to the Summit and home.
3. Nebo Loop (Road): Start in Provo, go up the Payson side, down the Nephi side, and on the flats back to Provo.
Selecting this short list is a lot easier than you might suspect: these are rides that spring to mind when I think about my best biking memories. They’re my empirical favorites because, given a choice to ride and the time to do them, these are the rides I pick.
Disruption
So, back to Fall Moab. For the third ride of the trip, Kenny, who in the absence of Dug was the guide for the trip, said we’d be riding a relatively new trail: Guacamole.
“Fine,” I thought. I’m happy to try new trails, though I generally don’t really enjoy them until I’ve ridden them enough to become acquainted. To know how they feel. What to expect. How long the ride is going to go, and where I need to gear myself up for a big effort.
And then something entirely unexpected happened: I loved this ride. More than loved it. I was amazed by it. Petrified wood lay about everywhere, as plentiful as sand. That, along with the rock, bush and valley below was simply beautiful. Similar in some ways to Gooseberry and Little Creek, but with its own personality.
The trail was so brilliantly considered. It was challenging, but not so challenging that it felt brutish. I’d say, in fact, that the tricky, technical sections seemed playful — as if the trail designer liked finding interesting natural features and thinking of ways to make them a part of the trail.
For example, there was a place in the trail where you’re directed to take a sharp left turn, climb to the top of a crescent-shaped fin of rock, ride along that fin, drop down the other side, and then continue along the trail. By following the trail markings here, you progress exactly no distance at all, but you do get the experience of riding your bike on the top of a crescent-shaped fin of rock.
It took me five tries to get to the top of this fin, ride along it, and drop down the other side. I was giddy when I finally got it.
Or for another example, you at one point ride up a hump of sandstone, turn gingerly right and ride off-camber around the circumference of this hump, the whole time with your left shoulder nearly touching the large boulder perched upon this hump of rock.
I got that one my first try. It was a proud moment.
Over and over, for the two or three hours we were out there, it’s just one quick up followed by a quick down. A natural skills park, carved out by erosion for kragillions of years, then cleverly and entertainingly interpreted into a mountain bike trail by trail-building geniuses.
It’s a beautiful, remarkable, entertaining trail. If you mountain bike and you’re anywhere near St. George, UT, you must ride it.
ASAP.
Another Question
So after riding Guacamole just once, I’ve since found myself thinking about it constantly. I’ve got to get out there and ride it again. Soon. This time with a helmet cam running (I actually had planned to ride with a helmet cam the first time I rode this trail, but the camera didn’t work — one of a long line of expensive things broken during this trip).
Because I have a question. It’s a question that I can’t answer yet; one ride is not enough — nowhere near enough — to make this kind of judgement.
But still, I can’t help but wonder: Is Guacamole destined to break into my top 3 favorite all-time rides?
Comments (26)
11.28.2011 | 10:19 am
A Book-Related Note from Fatty: Over the Thanksgiving weekend, the first third of the pre-ordered books arrived from the printer; those are now on their way to people who pre-ordered. Over the next few week, the balance of the pre-orders will be shipped out. After that, I’ll see how many I have left over and –if I have enough books–will open up ordering again. Thanks!
I have had a serious concern on my mind lately, and it came to a head shortly before — as well as during — this year’s Fall Moab.
Let’s start with the “shortly before” part. My friend and core team member Ricky M sent out an email, announcing his regret that he would not be attending this year’s riding trip, since he was in the hospital with a mysterious and undiagnosed condition leading to a dangerously low blood platelet count. And by “dangerously low,” I mean “any time he even walked near a sharp object, he began to bleed profusely and pretty much endlessly.”
Of course, as any concerned friend with a blog would do, I hurried on over and got a photo of me with Ricky. Here it is:
What is disturbing about this image is not that Ricky is using oxygen. Or that he clearly doesn’t look like he feels good.
What’s disturbing is that Ricky’s hair has gone almost entirely gray.
That freaked me out.
But you know what freaked me out even more? It was that — as I rode with my friends during Fall Moab that weekend, I discovered everyone’s respective ages:
It’s possible that, due to some unavoidable constraints on my research process (i.e., I didn’t bother contacting the the guys in the riding group to verify my memory was correct), some of these ages are not precisely accurate, but you get the picture.
Specifically, it’s become clear that I am riding with a bunch of old farts and clearly need to find a younger, hipper riding group — one that more closely matches my own personal youthful vibrance.
In any case, during a quiet moment during the weekend, I turned to my good friend bob (age 48), and asked: “How many more years have we got before we’re too old to do this?”
Bob laughed dismissively, then adjusted his goiter so that it didn’t loll so far to one side.
I then asked Kenny a similar question. Kenny replied, “I am still at the riding prime of my life. I feel young.” And then he went back to rubbing liniment into his bad hip.
I–unlike my friends–choose not to take the issue of being an aging cyclist so frivolously. Hence, I have compiled the following list of common cycling activities and traits, along with guidance on how to detect that you are perhaps too old for them.
Shaving Your Legs
I start with issue of shaving one’s legs because — I confess — it is an issue of real concern for me. Over the past several years, I have become so accustomed to shaving my legs that I can no longer easily remember what they looked like when they were hairy (but here’s a hint).
The thing is, though, I have a hard time imagining myself being eighty years old and still shaving my legs. It just doesn’t seem to fit the image I have of myself as an older gentleman (i.e., a full, silver head of hair with a matching goatee, a white suit, and twinkling eyes. More or less, I somehow imagine myself evolving into Colonel Sanders sometime during the next 35 years.).
Distinguished, wise old men (for I intend to gain wisdom sometime during the next 35 years, not to mention a modicum of distinguishment) shouldn’t be lathering up and shaving their legs. They should be sitting in rocking chairs, discussing the finer points of government under Teddy Roosevelt and exhorting all around them to shape up and respect their elders.
So, anyway, the question arises: between now and when I buy my first white suit (and when my hair starts coming in thick and silver), when should I stop shaving my legs?
I think there are three threshold events:
- When it becomes impossible for me to shave below my knees. As I get older and stiffer, I expect it’s going to get more and more difficult to do the bending, lifting, and twisting combinations required to shave my legs. At some point, I will no longer be able to reach behind my knees without throwing out my back, nor will I be able to bend over far enough to shave my (admittedly) hairy toes.
- When I can no longer tell what I’ve shaved and what I have not. As my eyesight becomes poorer, my leg shaving will become less and less even. I will miss patches of leg hair, which will then grow out thick and silver, much like the hair on my head. I hope that some younger rider will take me aside and say, “Old Timer, it’s time to stop shaving your legs.”
- When I have to pull my skin taut in order to shave it. I already have to pull my facial skin taut in a couple of places in order to shave. As gravity has its way with me, I expect my legs — while still exquisitely muscular and powerful — to become wrinkly. Frankly, it seems dangerous and frightening to try to shave legs with complicated topography like that.
My projected age for reaching any (or all) of these events is 68, partially because I have a hard time imagining any 70 year old shaving his legs. Although, if you’re 70+ and shave your legs (and you’re a guy), please let me know.
Camping as a Group
The next “when are you too old” bike-related question is, “When are you too old to camp as a group on your mountain biking trips?
I propose that the age is 45.
I’m glad that question could be answered so simply. Let’s move on to the next.
Renegade Facial Hair and Music
If you look at the pictures earlier in this post, you will note that Ricky (in the hospital bed), Cori, Kenny, and Jud all have somewhat similar facial hair, which — with the exception of Jud’s — I would categorize as “the type of facial hair that was popular eleven years ago.”
When are you too old to have a flavor-saver lip scruff? Well, I’d say if you’re old enough to grow one, you’re too old to have one.
Which is a rich irony, I agree. But still: new beards or no beards, guys.
I do, however, have a related question. One that applies to me: at what age am I too old to listen to Rage Against the Machine’s “Renegades of Funk?” I ask this question because I have the following concerns:
- I like machines in general
- I don’t rage against much of anything. I’m pretty much rage-free.
- The last time I could legitimately consider myself a “renegade” would have been when I was in high school. And that was mostly because I sometimes wore a Devo “energy dome” to school. Yeah, I was that kid.
So, should I start filling my riding playlist with Oak Ridge Boys? Merle Haggard? Muzak?
Single Speed
After a year of mountain biking with gears, I am back to single speeding. I can’t help it. But I’ve noticed something: when I ride SS now, I find my elbows (yes, elbows!) hurt for days afterward, maybe from the intense rowing action required from climbing.
And people do say that at some point my knees will pay the price for my single speeding ways.
So, when will I be too old to ride SS? Well, I’d say not until at least one (and more probably, two) out of the three following items are true:
- I have replaced my knees
- I have replaced my elbows
- I have found a more awesome way to ride
Of course, that could be next year. Or this one for that matter.
Technical Moves in Mountain Biking
During Fall Moab, I was astonished at how good everyone was at the technical moves we were doing — and I say that without the obvious qualification, “for our age.”
Also, by “we,” I pretty much mean “they.”
But I couldn’t help but wonder what would happen to Kenny if he fell — his bones are not quite as dense as balsa wood. And then there was Paul, who’s a judge. How much respect would he command in his courtroom if he showed up with a scraped-up face?
And of course there’s the general decline in testosterone levels, which could easily cause one of us to chicken out at an inopportune moment.
The simple fact is, as riders get older, it becomes less and less advisable to do big mountain bike moves.
And, at some point, it’s probably going to stop being a great idea to go mountain biking at all. That said, that time could be pretty far away, considering every year at the Leadville 100 there are at least a few guys in their 70’s finishing the race.
I take comfort in that, figuring I have a chance of being one of those guys. I don’t know, maybe I already am.
Still, at some point, I’ve got to assume that I won’t be able to mountain bike anymore. Though I think that might have more to do with the way the body heals slower when you’re older. Suppose, for example, you’re 21 and break your collarbone. You’re back on the bike in a few weeks, at least if you’re not a sissy.
If you break your collarbone when you’re eighty, though, it’s going to take longer to heal. Long enough, in fact, that by the time your bone’s better it’s going to be hard to get back on the bike for other reasons.
So my intention is to never fall. I think you’ll agree this is an excellent plan, and I am happy to report that since coming up with this plan (ten minutes ago) I have a perfect record of not falling.
And the good thing is, not being able to mountain bike isn’t exactly the end of the world for the cyclist. Because, as near as I can tell, there is no age limit to road biking.
And even if, at some point, regular road biking becomes a problem, there’s always recumbent riding. Although I’ll have to evaluate, if and when the time comes, whether I’d rather ride a recumbent than not ride at all.
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