The cycling world is all a-flutter with the latest news about Lance Armstrong, announced — as is all important news these days — via Twitter:
As a cycling fan, chances are you have already seen this tweet, or at least heard about it.
What you do not know (until now of course) is why Lance has decided — again — to retire (again).
The truth is, I helped him arrive at that decision.
A Fateful Phone Call
A couple nights ago, Lance called me. He does that a couple times per week. The conversation went like this:
Me: Hello?
Lance: Hey, Fatty. It’s Mellow Johnny.
Me: Hi Lance.
Lance: Hey, I want a nickname too. Call me “Mellow Johnny,” OK?
Me: OK. Did you know it’s 4:18AM here, Mellow Johnny?
Lance: Oh, sorry. I can never remember whether to add or subtract five hours.
Me: Don’t worry about it. You sound kind of down. What’s going on?
Lance: My goiter. Hurts like crazy, Fatty.
Me: You should have the team doctor look at that.
Lance: You think I’m going to let him see this? The whole team would know about it in about ten seconds.
Me: Probably true.
Lance: So I’ve been thinking. Maybe it’s time I hang up the ol’ helmet.
Me: OK.
Lance: But I mean for real this time. For keeps.
Me: OK.
Lance: But if I did that, I’d lose all the perks of the job. I’d never win another TdF.
Me: So keep racing.
Lance: But I think I’m just worn out.
Me: So stop. You’ve had a good, long career.
Lance: But what if I could have had a really good year next year, but I quit this year?
Me: You sound conflicted.
Lance: You don’t know the half of it.
Me: I’ll tell you what. Make yourself a PRO / CON sheet. Highlight the points that matter the most to you. I think that will help you clear up your mind on the matter.
Lance: OK, I’ll get right on that. Thanks, Fatty.
Me: Good night, Mellow Johnny.
PROs and CONs
Then, this morning, I got a priority overnight package from Europe. Curious, I opened it up, and found the following.
A Note from Fatty: Steve Peterson (ClydeSteve) is the co-captain of Team Fatty Seattle. Should I ever grow up, I hope it’s to be like Steve. Here’s the video they showed of him at the LiveStrong Challenge Appreciation Dinner, where Team Fatty was recognized for both the Team Time Trial and Team Champion awards!
And now, here’s ClydeSteve’s report from the LiveStrong Challenge in Seattle a couple of weeks ago.
Saturday June 19. Rain. Actually, lots of it. There was so much rain that the Seattle Center dictated that the Team Fatty tent, to be located on the LiveStrong Team Lawn, would instead be on a paved back alley! I had great help setting up the Team Fatty get together, thanks to team mates Lesley Jacobs & her husband, Ken Yu, Steve Payne and Jeff Payne (no relation). All of these great teammates donated snacks, including a delicious decorated cake. Thanks also to my two wonderful children, Zach & Joanna, who came up to Seattle to shop and also helped me set up the tent and sat in the rain to guard the cake. What with the rain and all, only about 15 Fattys showed up to say “hi”, so I had an awful lot of cake to myself.
I wonder if that had any bearing on my feeling kind of slow Sunday?
The Appreciation Dinner
Satuday June 19th, in the evening. At the LiveStrong Appreciation dinner, Team Fatty was represented well with 4 full 10-person tables. I sat with an all-star cast of Fatties, including teammates Mike ‘Kamala’ Schechter, Tim Tiscornia and Adam Zivin and our guests.
They had the highlight of the evening early when the event staff played the pre-recorded video award acceptance speech for Team Fatty’s two awards (Team Champion and Team Time Trial).
In this marvelous presentation I made an inexplicable mistake. I dedicated the award to a fictitious person. Now everyone thinks this is hilarious except me. I intended to dedicate the award to Mary E. Moore, mother of teammate Mary C. Moore, also mother-in-law of teammate Russell Rogers. Russell and Mary lost their mother to cancer just last month. Fortunately for me, Russell informed me that Mary had a wonderful sense of humor and would have laughed at the mix up.
Actor Evan Handler started out the live & official events of the evening with an entertaining talk and a different perspective for cancer survivors. The ‘cancer survivor’ tag is one the Lance Armstrong foundation likes to use instead of cancer victim or somesuch, feeling it conveys more of a sense of engagement and fight. Evan prefers to think of himself as cured; someone who has beat the odds and beat cancer. After 25 years, I guess he gets to call it what he wants.
Lance Armstrong’s friend ‘College’ gave a great talk about what LiveStrong does in the very important areas of survivorship and patient advocacy and coordination of benefits. More importantly, my table won the door prize by being intelligent, tuned in and diligent. What was the prize, you ask? A Flip HD 8Gb digital video camera for each of the 10 people at the table. Tim Tiscornia gets the credit for suggesting the correct answer and looking thoughtful, intelligent, and analytical while doing so. The rest of the table gets credit for going along. We rocked! I suggest you get yourself to the Appreciation Dinner at your next LiveStrong Challenge to rake in the goodies.
The Ride
Sunday June 20th. LiveStrong Challenge ride. The day looked fair, and I could not wait to get to the starting line. In fact I was so anxious to get to the starting line that I left my duffle of dry clothes and wallet at my brother’s home. Then I got stopped by a very kind City of Seattle policeman who noticed I had failed to secure my seat belt. He also discovered my failure to carry my driver’s license. Since this made me a bit later than I had planned, I sent Zach & Joanna ahead of me from the 5th & Harrison parking garage for coffee. Leaving my sunglasses on the pickup bumper, I sped out of the garage and grabbed my coffee from Joanna racer style, on the fly. It was exhilarating.
I eventually found a spot toward the back of the 100-mile start section next to teammate Jeremy Everitt and then discovered to my horror that my eye protection had turned into truck keys. Truck keys that my fabulous kids intended to use driving around Seattle. I had the presence of mind to phone the kids and talk them in to key tossing distance so they could go back to the pickup and get the camera and get a picture of me finishing later that day. This would be a momentous occasion, because to date, no one beside Elizabeth Kreutz, the LiveStrong official event photographer has ever snapped a picture of me finishing a major bicycle event. It’s like I am a vampire to everyone else.
The start was fairly uneventful, really. Jeremy and I just followed the crowd on the actual route. It was a lot more exciting last year when we made our own route in the downtown Seattle area. I met up with Tim Tiscornia at the predetermined location just as we exited the I-90 Express Lane onto Mercer Island. We had a fabulous time riding together under gray skies until the gray skies took a big PNW dump on us.
After that it became increasingly apparent just who had fenders and who did not. If you had a grit-filled face, arms and legs, you were following one of the riders who chose to go fender free. I was surprised to find that I could still do 40 mph descents on wet pavement with no eye protection. I am generally a big sissy about needing to cover my eyes.
Tim did not bring a rain jacket, and inexplicably I felt the need to suffer with him by not pulling out my rain jacket until the 70/100-mile course split where he decided to go the short route. I was sorry to split up with Tim (the wimp), but really glad to finally put on my rain jacket.
Miles 36 through 66 were kind of a wet cold blur. I remember finally stopping at the mile 66 rest stop and sitting down thoroughly chilled and powering down about 5 gels/bars/ PB&Js/etc. I just could not get warm.
I met Matt ‘Ibis’ Kreger there and he was feeling a little less than energetic as well. Matt said: “I don’t know if I have 38 miles left in my legs.” I was too tired to do the math, but felt the same way. Fortunately, we only had 34 miles to go. A bit of fast riding on West Sammamish Way and we were warmed back up for the-wall-they-call-Village Park Drive. About 1.2 miles of steep, I passed a number of riders who had to get off and push or stop for a cramp out.
Last year I didn’t even notice any uphill after Village Park on the way down to Renton. This year the flats had hill on them. I’m not complaining, mind you. I was just out of shape. But the new artificial knee never made a complaint. Titanium is funny that way, so stoic and all. But I was really pooped when I got to the Renton rest stop. I was only 15 miles out but had mentally gotten to the point of just slogging.
I ate a Honey Stinger and took off, and an amazing thing happened. Right after teammate Lief Zimmerman passed me doing about 24 mph on his ‘bent, I got an unreal surge of energy. Honey, answered prayers of concerned loved ones, a competitive urge to catch up with Lief? Perhaps all three, but suddenly I was rarin’ to go! It is kind of the way it is with those who have been diagnosed with cancer. Sometimes they are down, going it alone with outrageous endurance, and sometimes things go pretty good, and someone on their team pulls them along. Anyway, I was eventually able to close on Lief, after he stopped at a public park to use the facilities, and was happy to have a hometown Seattle commuter guide me in through the steep streets of Seattle.
As we were nearing the Seattle Center, my phone started ringing. Zach reported that the camera and the pickup keys were locked in the pickup and they could not find a locksmith on Sunday. Yes! My string of no family or friend-taken finish line photos remains intact! Maybe I am a vampire.
Oh, I found out that fame has its advantages. An hour after I got in, Zach & Joanna had still not located a locksmith. I went out to the LiveStrong Village to see if one of the clothing vendors maybe just maybe had a garment on a wire hanger. I was stopped by an event worker, a foreman for the company that does the set up of equipment for all the LAF events. He had seen me on the video awards speech during the Appreciation Dinner! The guy went out of his way to find a coat hanger I could use to break in to my own car. I was amazed and humbled by his willingness to go out of his way to help.
PS: Congratulations to Yann Bertaud, the winner of the Shimano / Sycip custom bike contest! Yann’s raised a lot of money ($2290 so far) in the LiveStrong Challenge, and he’s been doing it for all the right reasons — in support of a friend who’s fighting cancer. Check Yann’s LiveStrong page out here. So I’m really excited that Yann’s the winner of the bike.
Yann hasn’t decided whether he wants a cruiser or a road bike yet — a fun choice to have to make!
A Note from Fatty: Thanks to everyone who helped raise money in the fight against cancer for a chance to win a SyCip bike outfitted with Shimano and PRO components! I am now collating all the fundraising reports and will select a winner and notify her / him this morning.
Meanwhile, you know what’s really, really great? We have raised $185,117 so far this year in the fight against cancer.
Team Fatty, you are amazing. Thank you for all the work you have done, and continue to do.
Remember back in February when we cleaned out my garage in order to help my sister Kellene’s son Dallas get a new kidney?
Well, I think it’s time I give you an update on what’s going on now and what will be going on soon.
(And relax, this is a happy post with lots of good news.)
July 29: A Big Day
Pretty much everyone in my family wanted to get tested to see if they could be a good match for donating a kidney to Dallas. When the results came back, though, it turns out that Kellene herself is the best match.
So the surgery happens on July 29, in NYC.
And which means that Dallas will now have had a kidney from each of his parents. Which seems fitting, and which I find really touching for some reason.
So How’s Dallas Doing?
Once Dallas got past all of the awfulness of the kidney failure itself and got on dialysis, his life returned to normal. Not that spending hours every day hooked up to a machine that acts as a kidney substitute is what you or I would call “normal,” but the fact is, he’s adapted and is not letting this slow him down. He went back to work and the rest of his life.
In fact, he took up crit racing.
Yeah, really. Check out his ride:
He texted me this pic with the caption “My first geared and brake-installed road bike ever!”
I sent him a Fat Cyclist jersey (had to be one of my used ones; I do not have a secret stash of new ones hidden away), and he promised to send me a photo of him riding across the Brooklyn Bridge.
Dallas’ case of Shingles was bad enough that he had to go to the hospital again for a while, though he’s back out now. And looking forward to getting back on his bike, which warms my heart.
And How About Kellene?
Kellene is prepping for her surgery by . . . doing the Ride the Rockies multi-day road event. In fact, she’s doing it right now with a group of friends registered as Team Fatty. Check them out at the beginning of day 1 (Kellene’s on the far left):
And at the summit of Molas Pass:
And yesterday, at mile 300:
Kellene’s been sending out nightly text message blasts during the event, too. From the first day:
So a hail storm just about froze us to death, but all is sunny and well now. First hundred completed. Time for a Diet Coke. A great day.
And from the second day:
A wonderful 70 mile ride in the sunshine. Long and rolling. Tomorrow is the beast. Red Mountain pass at 12,000 feet plus two others. We should be mostly dead. People love our Fatty jerseys.
And her report from part way through that day?
Kill me. Just climbed two passes over 11,000 feet each. The Madone loved it and I suffered! Wind is not my friend One more to go! First a Diet Coke is in order.
And then yesterday:
A beautiful day. 87 miles. Tomorrow will be another battle: uphill and over Wolf Creek. My but and neck are done!
Kellene’s reports make me either want to do this event really badly soon, or never. I’m still not sure which.
How Not to Give Up
Lara is one of the women riding with Kellene. On a training ride a week before the event, though, she took a fall. A bad one:
She got a concussion and was otherwise seriously banged up, but apparently one of her big concerns was that she had shredded her Team Fatty jersey.
Well, as it turns out, I did in fact happen to have one women’s jersey in her size. New even. So I guess I did have a secret jersey stash after all.
And Lara’s out there. Doing the ride.
I’m not sure what it is about Team Fatty that makes all of you so bullheaded.
But I like it.
PS: Team Fatty-Seattle, go out there and kick butt at the LiveStrong Challenge this weekend. I wish I was there!
PPS: Today’s my birthday. I’m 44. Allow me to nostalgically impress you:
I remember before there was color TV
I remember when there were 3 TV stations, and changing between them with a dial. (I also remember being confused what the UHF / VHF switch was for.)
I remember when rotary phones were the norm
I remember before microwave ovens
I remember before VCRs
I remember before car phones (it was a while before they became small enough to be carried around by hand)
I remember before the Internet
I remember before personal computers
I remember music stores stocking vinyl, 8-track, and cassette of every album.
I remember getting a Schwinn Stingray, brand new, for my birthday
I’m so angry right now I can hardly see straight. Well, the truth is I have a lazy left eye so the “not seeing straight” part is pretty normal for me.
But — trust me — I’m pretty darned angry.
And I’m not the only one. Lance is mad too. Which is us is angrier? It’s hard to say.
I better back up and explain.
As many of you know, Lance Armstrong and I are now pretty tight. We hang out together, share training successes and failures, give each other parenting advice, exchange recipes, and are on the same World of Warcraft guild (his handle is “MelloWarlord;” mine is “FatPaladin”).
And so — like Lance — I was outraged when I saw the upcoming cover of Outside Magazine:
No, Lance was not outraged because the hairstylist made his hair look like he was photographed while hanging upside down. Nor was he angry that they chose the one photograph out of the whole sitting where he was looking menacingly intense, instead of showing his usual congenial, toothy grin.
He wasn’t even angry — well, OK, he was kind of angry, but not red-faced and seething — at the “Major Shrinkage!” headline right there beside him.
No.
He was angry for the exact same reason I am angry. And that reason is: Outside Magazine photoshopped “38. BFD.” onto his T-shirt.
Note: For those of you who aren’t familiar with the “BFD” acronym, it stands for “Bidirectional Forwarding Detection,” which is a network protocol used to detect faults between two forwarding engines connected by a link — a very peculiar thing to put on a t-shirt, I think you’ll agree!
Wow. That’s angry. I, for one, hardly ever get so angry that I start talking in light grey rectangles. But Lance — he and I have agreed during one of the many, many times we’ve hung out together — has a greater capacity for anger than I.
Which is not to say that I am not angry.
At this point, you’re probably wondering why — apart from indignation on Lance’s behalf — I am angry. What stake do I have in this egregious example of Photoshopping a plain t-shirt?
Well, the only way I can explain is by showing you the original photograph — the comp Outside emailed to Lance and me, saying they were just going to make a “couple of minor changes” before going to final.
And for another, I totally paid Lance $20 to wear that shirt for the cover, and Lance says he’s already spent it and it wasn’t his fault that Outside Photoshopped it out anyway.
As a beloved, Bloggie hall-of-fame-winning, and very influential blogger, it is now very rare for me to go riding without being accosted by other cyclists. Many of them (you) simply want a signed 8 x 10 photograph, and for that purpose I now always ride wearing a Camelbak HAWG filled with an assortment of photos of me in different outfits and poses.
For efficiency’s sake, I have even pre-autographed a number of these photographs for common names. If, for example, your name is “Barbara,” (currently #4 in the US), I will be able to give you your pre-inscribed photograph (“Barbara! You’re awesome. Ride hard and keep reading the blog. XOXO – Fatty”) with practically no delay at all.
You think you’ll get the same treatment from Bike Snob NYC? No, you will not. In fact, he’s likely to punch you in the throat. Or push you down. Depends on how foul a mood he’s in, really.
Why do I do this? Because I am all about service, that’s why.
Sometimes, however — and this is as surprising to me as it is to you — I will encounter another cyclist who neither recognizes nor approaches me. At those times, it falls to me to talk to them, in order for me to share the important insights I am invariably experiencing.
I am certain you are interested in what I say, and in what circumstances, so that you can emulate me.
Your Saddle is Too Low
Something I have noticed about every cyclist that has been riding for more than six months is that they have become truly expert in bike fit. Of course, it irritates me no end when these cyclists try to instruct me on how I should position my saddle, how long of a stem I should be using and so forth, because I truly am a bike fit expert.
And of course I love to share this expertise. I am a sharing person, after all.
I like to start out with a friendly greeting. “Hi there, great day for a ride, isn’t it?” I will ask. This puts us on common ground (we agree that it is in fact a good day for a ride), establishes that I am interested in their opinion, and intimates that I am very observant (I have noticed the suitability of the weather for cycling).
Once my lucky patient (I think of everyone I help as a patient, and think of myself as a kindly doctor) has agreed that the weather is in fact good for riding, I follow up with, “I’ll bet your knees hurt, don’t they?”
Stunned by my perspicacity, my patient will usually agree. Unless, of course, their knees don’t hurt. In which case they will reveal, “No, not really.”
Undaunted, I will then reply, “Trust me (and how could they not trust me?), they will soon.” And then I will tell them that they need to raise their seat the correct amount, which I am able to discern simply by looking at them. This is easier than you think, believe it or not. Use the below guide to help you help others:
If their legs never achieve an obtuse angle, they probably should raise their seatpost about 2″ (that’s 5.08 x 10^-5 kilometers for those of you who prefer metric units).
If they have to shift their buttocks to reach the bottom of each downstroke, they should probably lower their saddle about 2″ (see above for the metric equivalent).
If their knees keep hitting their chin, it may be time to consider a larger frame.
I believe this pretty much covers all the possibilities.
And the great thing about this technique is that I don’t need to be on a bike to use it. I have found it equally effective when shouted from a car.
I Want You to Know About the Awesome Ride I Am Doing
When mountain biking, I am often not actually on my bike. To the casual onlooker, it may seem like this is because I am pushing my bike up the hill, but the truth is, I am simply going at a slow enough pace to allow others to catch up with me, so I can tell them about the magnificent mountain bike ride upon which I have embarked. By knowing this, the person I am talking to can aspire to — someday — attempt a similar ride.
I like to begin by feigning interest (after, of course, I have cemented our relationship by commenting about the weather): “Hey, what kind of ride are you doing today?”
Naturally, this appears to show my interest in the other person’s ride, but in reality it is setting them up to reciprocate my question.
“Oh, I’m just exploring a little bit today,” I’ll reply off-handedly. “I started by climbing up Grove, connected that up to the Great Western to get to the top of Timpooneke. I rode that for a while, and now i’m riding to the top of the Alpine Loop. From there, I think I’ll take Ridge to South Fork Deer Creek, back up to the summit, then along Ridge to Mud, down Tibble, and then probably back home.
“Or I might add a little something to it if I have the time. Just depends.”
I especially like that last part — that it’s my available time that’s the limiting factor, not the fact that this ride would leave me completely cooked.
Note: I only use this technique when I am on a very long, impressive ride. And am pretty sure the other person is not. And I always be sure to say the route fast enough to make the other person’s head spin, and too fast for them to comprehend it.
I Am Considering Killing You for Your Food
This may come as a surprise to you, but there are times when I get hungry on the trail. Hungry enough, even, that I eat all my food and wish for more.
When that happens, I am always very happy to meet a fellow cyclist.
“How’s your ride going?” I ask, weakly.
I do not listen to the response.
“Yeah, I’ve been out for a pretty long ride,” I say, regardless of whether I have been asked how my ride is progressing. “I sure wish I had unnndndngngghh.”
I should point out that as I say “unnndndngngghh,” I let my knees buckle, and use the nearest tree to keep myself from falling over entirely.
“No, I’m fine,” I reply, in answer to the inevitable question of whether I’m OK. “Just a little hungry, I guess.” Of course, I’ll protest when offered food, but never for too long.
And I want to point out that I’m not exactly taking something for nothing, because I almost always offer a high-value item in return.
A Note from Fatty: Today is the last day you can enter to win the SyCip hand-built bike, tricked out with Shimano and PRO components. 
