One for the Women: a Grand Slam Grand Prize from Juliana Bicycles

07.16.2015 | 10:47 pm

This Monday, I’ll be starting my writeup of the 2015 Crusher in the Tushar race, which, I’m pleased to note, will include this picture of some sweet potato fries I ate the night before the race:

Today, however, I want to give you a little sneak preview from a moment I experienced during the race. Because it’s relevant to the next big grand prize I’m announcing in the Grand Slam for Kenya, that’s why.

It happens as follows:

Just one more mile ’til the top of the climb. I was in my element, racing like I had never raced before. Climbing like a man possessed. Possessed by something that likes to climb, that is.

I saw my next carrot: a woman wearing a “Juliana” jersey. 

I stood up, began rowing my bike. I wanted to see this woman’s bike. I had my reasons.

It was not easy to catch her. Not easy at all. But I managed. Barely.

I did not speak once I had caught her. I needed a minute for the tunnel vision to recede. As I tucked in and tried not to get dropped, I looked at her bike. 

Yes, it was as I suspected: a gorgeous Juliana Nevis hardtail. Outfitted with the incredible RS-1 fork and an XX1 drivetrain. A dream bike. 

This woman was killing me. Killing me on a dream bike…a lot like the one I’d be announcing the next week.

I had to take the opportunity to ask, “So, how do you like that Juliana?”

“It’s amazing,” the woman replied. “Really great in the descents, really fast on the climbs.”

I would have asked her more about this bike. I wanted to ask her more about this bike. I wanted to say, “Hey, I have a very particular interest in that bike!”

But I couldn’t say any of these things. Because she had already dropped me.

Later, after the race, I would discover this woman I was talking with was Kelli Emmett, who podiumed in the Pro division at the Crusher. 

This One’s For the Women

As you no doubt realize by now, the Juliana Nevis is a Grand Prize in the Grand Slam for Zambia. Check it out:

The all-new Nevis heralds the introduction of a race-ready carbon hardtail to the Juliana range, meeting the demands of riders like Juliana-SRAM Pro Team rider Kelli Emmett (check out this video of her and the others in the team) and the NorCal High School Cycling League teams, who want a low-slung lightweight carbon hardtail for racing.

This is a serious — and seriously gorgeous — bike, designed by women, for women. As such, this prize will be given to a woman.

One very, very lucky woman.

Here are a few details:

• The 69-degree head angle makes for a geometry that’s nimble on the ups, stable on the downs, and pretty darn perfect everywhere else!
• 27.5 wheels and compact chainstays strikes the balance between efficient rolling dynamics and a wickedly playful ride. 
• 100mm RS-1 fork with 15mm thru-axle (Note from Fatty: The RS-1 fork is without a doubt the best fork I have ever used)
• Flexes naturally to boost long-ride comfort on those 100 mile punishers without sacrificing efficiency.
• Low standover height: At 28” on the smallest size, the aggressive sloping top tube leaves plenty of room to maneuver on the bike and put a foot down.
• Internal cable routing: Simple internal cable routing gives the Nevis a clean, polished look worthy of its purpose.
• Matte Carbon: Raw carbon saves a 1?4 lb in paint weight and visually asserts the Nevis’ serious endurance intentions. Weights from 2.1 lbs (size M, frame only).
• Juliana Dot Grips: Designed by Juli Furtado herself, taking her palms to podiums since 1990. 
• Juliana Mountain Saddle: Designed by women, for women, to ensure a day in the saddle won’t feel like one.

These features will all be complemented by top-shelf SRAM components, making this exactly the bike I would buy and build for The Hammer, if I were buying and building a racing bike for The Hammer this year.

Trust me, that is a significant endorsement.

Perfect Fit

It makes terrific sense that Juliana Bicycles is supporting World Bicycle Relief and the Grand Slam for Kenya, especially when you consider that both Juliana and this fundraiser really focus on women. Here’s what Anka Martin, Juliana-SRAM Pro Team Rider and WBR Ambassador, has to say:

“The best thing about bikes is that they keep on giving. For most of us, bicycles are fun tools, but in many parts of the world, bikes truly have the ability to change peoples lives and I feel really proud to be a part of a company who supports that and charities like World Bicycle Relief: Women empowering women.” 

Heck yeah. This sounds like something you ought to be a part of, doesn’t it?

Let’s Recap Here, and Drop a Few Hints

We’re approximately halfway through the month of July, and approximately halfway through announcing what all the prizes are in the Grand Slam for Kenya. Here’s what we’ve got so far:

• Juliana Nevis
• 12-Day Cycling Trip to Italy with InGamba
• Trek Project One Bike of Your Choice
• Yet Another Trek Project One Bike of Your Choice

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2015 Rockwell Relay Race Report, Part 8: The Beginning of the End

06.26.2015 | 11:40 am

Previously in this Monster of a Race Report: 

1. Race Prediction: We Will Lose
2. Part 0: Generosity and Bratwurst
3. Part 1: Cold Fury
4. Part 2: A Day in the Life
5. Part 3: Winning When You’re Losing
6. Part 4: The Chase
7. Part 5: Zombies
8. Part 6: Stop Shouting at Me
9. Part 7: Symptoms of Sleep Deprivation

We’re down to the last two legs of the Rockwell Relay. My prediction — and I’m pretty good at predictions — is that today’s post will get us to the final exchange. Then there will be one more post to get us to the finish line, and then maybe a wrap-up and an explanation of why I have this picture:

To be honest, though, there might be more story here than I can fit in a couple of blog posts. You see, I generally just kind of wing it with my storytelling structure. Write the next sentence that occurs to me. Break the paragraph every so often. 

With the final leg of this race, that will not be possible. Not remotely possible. 

In order to understand the final leg of this race, in fact, I had to reconstruct a timeline of events, going second-by-second, minute-by-minute, on a spreadsheet.

You think I’m kidding? I am so not kidding.

Why am I saying this? Just so you’ll be prepared for kind of a monster-sized conclusion to this story coming down the pike. You may want to set aside some time to read it. Have some snacks prepared. Maybe the cold beverage or ice cream of your choice. Make it into an entertainment event. 

But we’re not there yet. Not quite. Today’s story doesn’t require a spreadsheet.

Today’s story is easy to follow. Relatively.

Catching Up With Cory

When The Hammer came in, having finished her last leg, I didn’t give her time to change clothes, telling her we needed to get to Cory, ASAP, to have new bottles stuffed with ice ready for him.

The day was heating up. 

The Hammer, to my surprise, was perfectly fine with that. “I’m going to wait to change for a little bit,” she said.

We zoomed through town, looking at each cyclist to see if it was Cory. 

Finally, we caught him, riding in a paceline with Big D and Troy. 

Awesome. Perfect even. Just hold that wheel, Cory, we all thought. And also we yelled it at him, out loud.

But Big D was up front, absolutely crushing the course. Eventually, Cory just couldn’t hold on and popped off the back.

New Plan

“He’ll never be able to catch up on this leg,” I said. “Those two guys are going to distance him in a huge way.”

“Drive forward and drop me off,” The Hammer said. “I’ll work with Cory on this leg.”

This, as it turns out, was allowed within the rules of the race. Indeed, the rules of the race explicitly state that it’s allowed: 

In the five years I’ve done this race, though, we’ve never done this out-of-turn drafting trick. Because there’s never been a time when the difference between winning and losing might come down to working with another rider.

This time, it was definitely coming down to this. The Infinite teams had been working together for a full 24 hours now, while we had been riding — more or less — solo.

It was time to even the odds. It was time to double up.

The thing is, The Hammer had already kind of planned on this possibility. As she was descending into Cedar City, in fact, she had thought about how the leg she had ridden wasn’t very taxing: a medium-effort climb, followed by a big descent.

She had figured if she finished behind Marci and Billy, she’d just pick up Cory and keep on going, working with him to limit the damage as well as she could.

That hadn’t been necessary, at first.

But now it was time to start burning every match we had.

Whoops

We drove forward about a mile and started getting The Hammer’s bike out.

But before we had her ready to go, Cory had already come by.

So we shot forward a couple miles, and this time when Cory came by, he found he suddenly had a riding partner.

Look how great they look in their new Fatcyclist.com jerseys.

So PRO. I tell you.

Epiphany

With The Hammer and Cory working together, their average speed jumped; we had stopped the bleeding.

Even so, we weren’t catching Troy and Big D. We were even still losing a little more time to them. Big D is a locomotive, and if you’re not connected to that train…well, you’re gonna get left behind.

We were still going to lose.

Unless…unless we kept working together on the next leg, too.

I don’t know whether it was Lynette or me who first realized it, but it was obvious when we thought about it: With a short climb and then 32 miles of near-constant descending, a very light, slight woman riding alone doesn’t stand a chance against two men working together.

But…what if she wasn’t riding alone? What if the two of us were working together on Lynette’s leg — the last leg of the race?

“Hand me a couple slices of pizza,” I said to Lynette. “I think I need to start eating again.”

Get Ready, Get Set…

Lynette and I suddenly had a lot to do. On one hand, we didn’t want to stop supporting our team, so I kept driving for a while, leapfrogging Cory and The Hammer. Stuffing my face while we waited for them to come by, handing them water as they went by.

While I did this, Lynette got changed into her riding clothes. 

Once she was all set up, we swapped roles. And then once I was all dressed, I would spend our waiting time checking our bikes. Everything good? Yep. Everything good. 

Now, I’m tempted to act like I was all grim-faced and surly about “having” to go out and ride on this last leg. 

But the truth is, I was happy as could be. Excited. Elated. The Infinite teams had given us what amounted to a huge experiential gift: an exciting, dramatic race. One that could truly go either way. 

And I was stoked to — instead of watching this last act — be a part of it.

I had way more than 100 miles in my legs, and right around 10,000 feet of climbing. 

But I was as excited for this bonus leg as I had been for the first one.

No Secrets

Lynette and I made sure The Hammer and Cory had all the food they needed, along with two full bottles. It was time for us to tell Cory where he’d find the keys to the car, shoot ahead, park the car, get out our bikes, and…wait.

“See you soon!” I shouted to Cory and The Hammer. “Ride safe, and tear their legs off.“

Oops. We forgot to tell Cory where the keys were. Oh well. Not the end of the world. With any luck.

We drove on toward the next exchange point. Before too long (or was it?), we came across Big D and Troy. I held a piece of pizza out the window.

“I think that would slow us down for me to eat that right now,” Dave shouted.

“That’s the whole idea!” I replied.

Troy looked at me. “You’re kitted up to ride,” he observed. 

I was amazed. I would never have noticed something like that when racing. Troy was apparently able to race and make important strategic observations at the same time.

I just nodded. Yeah, I’m riding again. No more two-against-one in this game.

Your Move. No, Wait. I Guess It’s Our Move.

The day was was hot, and still heating up, by the time Lynette and I arrived at the exchange point. We parked, but stayed in the van. There was no shade, and we didn’t want to heat up by venturing out.

Which means that we didn’t find out that this exchange point featured free Otter Pops. 

Man, I am still mad that I didn’t get myself an Otter Pop. Because, for one thing, Otter Pops at an exchange point had been my suggestion to the Rockwell Relay guys. And for another thing, I just really love Otter Pops.

Instead, Lynette and I just stayed in the van, keeping as cool as we could…and watching the Infinite vehicles. 

There was Danny, all kitted up to ride.

And there was Mary…all kitted up to ride.

And there was Marci…all kitted up to ride.

So if we bring two people to a leg, you’re going to bring four (Danny, Mark, Marci, Mary), huh?

I wasn’t mad. Far from it. It was a brilliant move. You’re at the end of a race, you’ve still got matches to burn…it would be stupid to not burn them.

And besides, I had a huge amount of confidence in Lynette. This weekend had been a revelation, as far as my understanding of Lynette’s racing abilities are concerned. She could take them. “They’re giving it everything they’ve got. We’re giving it everything we’ve got,” she said. “However this turns out, it’s been an amazing race.” I agreed with her. Winning mattered, trying to win mattered more. And both teams were trying very, very hard to win. 

As for myself…well, I was being a jackass. I said, “Just get in as close as you can stand and hang on. I don’t like to boast, but I’m guaranteeing you that I can outpull all four of them put together.”  

Somebody punch me in the face. Please.

Grand Finale Starts…Soon.

We watched from the van, looking for the Big D / Troy train to come racing in. And we weren’t disappointed: Big D was preceded by the compression wave he had created, setting off all car alarms in the general vicinity.

Troy was no longer riding a bike, having abandoned the pretext of needing one. He was now wearing a swimsuit and riding a wakeboard, happily skimming along on a cushion of air, a tow rope attached to Big D’s seatpost.

I looked down at my watch, noted the time. “We can wait a few minutes, I think, ’til we head out to the exchange point,” I said.

Three minutes elapsed. Then four.

An unknown rider from another team walked by, carrying his bike. “Don’t roll your bikes in this parking lot,” he said. “It’s full of goatheads.”

“That’s good beta,” I said. “Thanks.”

“Let’s walk out to the timing mat,” Lynette said. 

“Sounds good,” I said, and we began carrying our bikes to the exchange point.

Five minutes had elapsed since the Infinite teams had come in. 

We hoped our team would be arriving soon.

And that seems like a pretty good place for us to pick up in the next episode.

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2015 Rockwell Relay Race Report Part 6: Stop Shouting at Me

06.24.2015 | 8:02 pm

Previously in this Outrageously Long Shaggy Dog of a Story: 

1. Race Prediction: We Will Lose
2. Part 0: Generosity and Bratwurst
3. Part 1: Cold Fury
4. Part 2: A Day in the Life
5. Part 3: Winning When You’re Losing
6. Part 4: The Chase
7. Part 5: Zombies

People were shouting at me.

Shouting at me like something was important. Like it was urgent.

Like it was information I should understand. Like it was information I would really want to have, and that I would act upon it.

But what did it mean? I didn’t know. I really wanted to know, but I couldn’t ask. I couldn’t talk right now. Literally couldn’t talk.

But the people kept shouting at me, over and over. But none of it made any sense, and all I wanted was for these people — not just any people, either, this was my team — to stop shouting, so I could go back to thinking about my fantasy: one where I was not riding uphill, uphill, uphill. Uphill forever.

My fantasy, where I would stop riding soon, and I wouldn’t have to ride anymore. 

My fantasy, where I would get off my bike, and not start stuffing my face with food immediately, because it wouldn’t matter if my stomach was empty and I could just let it be peacefully empty. Not gurgly and gross as I forced it to endlessly fuel for going uphill some more.

But there they were again. These people. My team. Shouting at me.

Were those numbers they were shouting? I think they’re shouting numbers.

Why would my team be shouting numbers? Was this a bad dream? Hallucinations? Maybe. I’d been up a long time. Sleep deprivation-induced hallucinations were a real possibility.

But it felt a little too real for that.

“Do the numbers make any sense?” I asked myself. 

“No, they’re just numbers,” I replied to myself. “Just nod and smile and keep pedaling, and maybe they’ll stop shouting at you.”

That, my friends, is exactly and honestly what I was thinking about two-thirds of the way up leg nine of The Rockwell Relay: the “Duck Creek” section, 37.2 miles long, with 3780 feet of climbing.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. Almost nine hours ahead of myself, in fact.

I’d better catch you up. Then, together, maybe we can figure out why my team felt like they should shout at me.

Busy, Happy

In the last installment of this story, Cory had just taken off on what is, without question, the single most surreal leg of the race: Boulder to Henrieville (not to be confused with Hanksville, which is another exchange in the race…the two of which I confused probably twenty times during the race). Most teams start it in the dead of night. It’s long (56.6 miles), it’s very dark, it goes up and down and up and down.

And for the first forty-five minutes or so, Cory was strictly left to his own devices. Because I had just discovered that Lynette didn’t have her lights set up for her next leg, and she had a squishy tire.

In previous posts — too many to link to — I have given Danny no small amount of grief for having taken Lynette’s lights. 

So I should — now that we’re actually at the moment of needing to talk about her lights and the fact that soon our numero-uno competitor would shortly be riding with those lights on his bike — come clean about the lights.

We didn’t need those lights. Didn’t need them at all. It was perfectly fine for Cory to loan Danny’s dad the lights. I have enough lights and backup batteries that I could have fueled a team of domestiques. If such a thing existed.

Which of course it does not.

But that doesn’t mean I didn’t give Lynette a little grief. “Well, where are your lights? What are you going to do for lights?” I asked. “You do know that within a few hours you’re going to be riding in the dead of night, right?”

And then I hauled out a NiteRider Pro 1800 Race and a NiteRider Pro 3600 DIY, and mounted them on her helmet and handlebar, respectively.

And in short, Lynette now had the capability to blast out up to 5400 lumens of power at will. That, for what it’s worth, is approximately twice as bright as a set of your average car headlights.

Next up, I took a look at Lynette’s bike, which she had noticed had a slightly soft rear tire.

I checked it: 40psi. Yeah, that’s soft.

“Well, it’s had quite a while to get that soft,” Lynette reasoned. “It will probably be fine for my next leg if we just pump it up.”

“For a regular ride, I would probably agree,” I said. “But not when you’re racing, and definitely not when you have as much descending as you’ve got coming up.”

I noticed a nick in the tire casing. “We’re going to replace the tube and the tire,” I said.

And I got to work, in the back seat area of the van, while Lynette drove to catch us up with Cory.

Maybe not the best picture ever taken (The Hammer’s flash must’ve reflected off something), but it illustrates a few things:

1. I have new glasses. Don’t I look studious and intelligent with them?
2. I have a headlamp on. I didn’t take it off for the duration of the night. If you’re going to be finding and working on stuff through the night, having a headlamp on is so handy.
3. I’m happy. I know, it kinda looks like I’m making a goofy face, but that’s just because I always look like I’m making a goofy face. The truth is, staying busy and crewing for my team is every bit as much of an awesome part of the Rockwell Relay as the biking itself.

It took us a long time to catch Cory, which we saw as a good sign. He was riding really strong. We finally caught up with him, though, passed him, and waited for him in the utter dark, which gave us the perfect opportunity for a 2:00am team selfie:

If you ask me, we all look pretty darned good, considering the time of night and what we’d been doing for the past sixteen hours or so.

Cory Makes Another Friend

So, now that I’ve admitted that it really was perfectly fine for Cory to loan Danny a light setup, I’ve got to find something new to tease him about. 

Here, this will work:

That is two racers. Cory in front, some unidentified rider in his draft.

This was the single most-common thing we saw for the duration of Cory’s second leg. This rider, drafting behind Cory. 

Cory (mildly) suggested she should take a pull, once, but not with real conviction. So she rode behind him for almost the entire leg.

That’s just how Cory is. He’s a helpful guy. Which — and here’s some serious foreshadowing — would have posed a real problem later for our team, if we had let Cory have his way.

That said, after finishing this leg — this monster of a ride beginning at twenty minutes past midnight and riding his bike ’til almost four in the freaking morning — together, that rider and everyone else in her (all-women) team came up to Cory and gave him a giant hug.

So, you know, maybe Cory is on to something.

What We Did Not See

One thing we did not see during Cory’s leg was anyone from the Infinite teams. We knew what this meant: they had gapped us enough that we were no longer leapfrogging. 

Troy and Big D had taken the lead Marci and Ryan had built together, and extended it to the point that we were no longer  in the same general area as the Infinite teams.

When we pulled into the exchange, we still didn’t see anyone from the Infinite teams. Which meant they had pulled out before we even pulled in.

That did it. They had reached escape velocity. They had beaten us.

We now had a new objective: keep our second-place spot on the podium respectable. Keep the race close.

Oh, and also, we had the objective of maintaining good personal hygiene, even in the face of overwhelming odds:

Yep, I’ve hammered my brains out twice in the last seventeen hours and my solution to the odor problem was to brush my teeth.

Actually, doing something ordinary —brushing your teeth — during an otherwise very weird day can go a long way toward restoring your sense of normalcy. 

Plus, it does a fantastic job of getting the “fifth slice of cold pizza” taste out of your mouth.

Also, while we were waiting for Cory to come in, I ate the best breakfast burrito I’ve ever had.

See, Bountiful Bicycle was sponsoring this exchange, and Taylor Felt — a great friend and amazing shop manager — was helming the grill.

There were a lot of really great exchange stations this year, but this one was my very very very favorite: hot, freshly cooked food was just what I needed to help me stay awake, and to fuel for my next leg of the race.

Man, I could not believe that it was about to be my turn to race again.

Lynette’s Turn

There’s nothing good about doing anything at four in the morning, but starting a race right then has got to be the worst.

But Lynette didn’t complain. Not a tiny bit. She smiled big and took off from the exchange like it mattered. 

And she rode this leg like a champ: a self-contained powerhouse climbing-and-descending fifty-three-year-old champ. She quickly caught a strong rider from a women’s team, organized a rotation, and they worked together for the whole ride. Just killing it.

In fact, Lynette did this 36-mile leg in 2:05:20, the fastest — by a large margin — any team I have ever been on has done this ride.

The Hammer and Lynette have been good friends and training buddies for a couple decades; ’til this race I didn’t really know her. Now I have huge respect for Lynette as an incredible competitor, as well as a remarkably cheerful person during an intense day (The Hammer and I can get pretty focused when we race).

My Last Turn

One of the most awesome things about being in slot 1 in the Rockwell Relay is that you’re finished racing before anyone else on the team. You finish your last leg, and then you get to relax and enjoy the last three legs of the race, stress-free.

I was thinking this thought at the Panguitch exchange point as I waited for Lynette to zoom in.

The Hammer and Cory weren’t around when she arrived — much earlier than expected — so we fumbled our way through moving the timing anklet over to my leg without help.

I am not a very bendy person, so this was not easy to do.

We hadn’t seen the Infinite teams in six hours or so. At some point, the “out of sight, out of mind” principle had kicked in. So now, I was racing simply to honor the spirit of our race. We had gone hard the whole day; it would be sad to just phone in our last rotation.

The sun was coming up, my spirits were lifting. I was having fun. 

“I’m going to be sad when this race is over,” I said to myself.

Then I replied, “I can hardly wait ’til this race is over.”

If you’ve ever done the Rockwell Relay, you’ve almost certainly had this exact conversation.

I Can’t Make Friends

So I’m racing hard. Not my very hardest, because I have no rabbit to chase, no wolf nipping at my heels. But still racing plenty hard. 

I catch a guy. Swing around him. Start pulling.

I can see his shadow start to drop back. I’m dropping him. 

I do something new. Unique for me. I hold back for a second. What if I tried working with someone instead of ripping their legs off?

“Grab back on,” I urge. He does. Hangs with me. Happily, I pull. He’ll take a turn when he’s caught his breath.

He drops back again. This time I keep going. Step it up a little, in fact.

Hey, I tried.

Stop Shouting at Me

For what feels like forever, I ride. Up. Up. Up. Happy, but exhausted. Riding hard, but without real purpose.

I go to my happy place. Disconnect my mind from my body. I don’t do this on purpose. It just happens.

And then my team starts shouting at me every time they see me. Numbers. Always numbers. Why are you shouting numbers at me? I’d ask, if I had any energy for talking.

I am not exaggerating here. When the van goes by me and they ring the cowbell, I don’t turn my head left and smile. I’m too tired for that. Literally, I am too tired to do anything but what I have to do: ride my bike up this mountain. Fast, if I can.

The Hammer yells, “We’ve got to go to the next exchange and get ready!”

I understand that. That’s fine. I have enough GU to last a month. I might need it all.

As they drive past me this one last time, The Hammer yells one final number. “Two-oh-eight!”

Alone with no more numbers being shouted at me, I try to make sense of this final number. I try. I mull it over. Puzzle over it. Say it to myself several times. 

“Two oh eight. Two oh eight.” It becomes my mantra. It’s easy to turn a cadence to, if nothing else.

And then I get it. Two hours, eight minutes. Of course. 2:08 was the time it took me to do this leg of the race back in 2013! “How sweet of The Hammer to remember,” I say to myself.

Ten minutes later, I’d find out I was completely wrong about that guess.

And that is where we’ll pick up in the next installment of this story.

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My Rockwell Relay Prediction: We Will Lose

06.11.2015 | 3:47 pm

Greetings from the SBR Sprinter Van, currently en route to Moab, Utah.

Lynette and The Hammer, talking and laughing. Laughing and talking. And laughing.

Team SBR-WBR is on its way to the Moab city park, where we will be grilling the 500 bratwurst we boiled in beer yesterday (shown below):

I’m very excited to grill all this bratwurst, to talk with racers, to raise some money for World Bicycle Relief, and to hand out some Root Beer Gu Energy Gel to anyone who donates at least $5.

I also am excited to conduct a secret research project as I hand out all this food, the results of which I will share with you sometime in the near future.

And then, Friday, I’m excited to race — for the fifth year in a row — the Rockwell Relay.

Unfortunately, Team SBR-WBR is going to lose the Competitive Coed division. And we’re going to lose badly.

The Problem With Team SBR-WBR

Team SBR-WBR is made up of four very strong riders, when compared to other coed teams comprised entirely of members of AARP.

Our average age is 51. For realsies.

But our age isn’t really the problem. No, our problem has more to do with who we are.

Allow me to explain.

The Problem With Racer 1

The biggest problem of Team SBR-WBR can actually be best understood by the fact that the team’s name is “Team SBR-WBR,” not “Team Fatty-WBR.” 

Which is to say, my team isn’t called “Team Fatty” because I lost a bet. And that bet is that I would get down to racing weight before this race began.

Which is to say: I am not at racing weight. Not even close. I am strong, but fat. Fit-fat, if you will.

Fortunately, being strong-but-heavy is only a problem if the ride you are doing has a lot of climbing. 

Unfortunately, the leg of the race I’m doing has pretty much nothing but climbing in it.

Even if the rest of my team raced perfectly — and maybe they will — we will lose. Because of me. Because I suck.

The Problem With Racer 2

The Hammer is Racer 2 in Team WBR-SBR. She has been training for The Rockwell Relay in a novel way: by hardly ever riding her bike.

Her focus this year has been on running, so she could do the Squaw Peak 50 Trail Race. And that focus has paid off handsomely: she took second in the Masters category last week.

Now, I’m going to let you in on a little secret: doing a 50-mile trail run with 10,000 feet of climbing in it will sometimes make your legs a little bit fatigued for a few days afterward.

Fortunately, when The Rockwell Relay starts, she will have had a full five days to have recovered from the Squaw Peak 50. I’m sure the fact that she hasn’t been riding her bike coupled with the fact that she did a twelve-hour long race less than a week ago won’t impact her riding this weekend at all.

The Problem With Racer 3

Cory Borup is the guy who I placed the weight-loss wager with. Unlike me, he hit his goal, losing around forty pounds.

He looks fantastic, doesn’t he? He’s worked hard to get so light. Which is awesome and impressive and admirable and stuff. It’s also why our team name starts with SBR his Bike / Tri shop — which goes very nicely with the van we’re currently sitting in:

Yes, ownership of a Sprinter van is a prerequisite to my friendship.

Anyway, it’s great that Cory has lost so much weight. Unfortunately, he has done this at the expense of the ability to maintain any momentum whatsoever on the bike. He is now a frail husk of a man, easily knocked off his feet by a light breeze.

He used to be a remarkable TT specialist. Now, air resistance poses a serious challenge to him. No, not wind resistance. air resistance.

The Problem With Racer 4

The fourth racer in Team SBR-WBR is Lynette. 

Lynette is one of those people who has done more Ironmans than she can count. She’s fast. She has great endurance. And she has, for the past couple of years, averaged one collar bone break per year. 

Staying upright has been a problem for Lynette as of late.

It is our fervent hope that she will abandon this new hobby (i.e., crashing her bike) now that she has run out of collarbones to break.

The Competition

Now, I’m not trying to anti-trash-talk here. OK, maybe I am, but the fact is, even if our team was perfect, we’d still lose. Because there’s this other coed team which will — and we are quite confident on this point — crush us.

Team Infinite Stamina.

Now, I’m not saying that other teams will not also crush us. The very likely will. But it doesn’t matter. As long as this one team is out there, we’re sunk. How deeply sunk isn’t all that important.

Here’s why Team SBR-WBR is in trouble:

• Racers 1 and 2: Team Infinite Stamina is racing its two women in slots one and two. Really, anything I could say about these two racers can be better said in this picture, from the podium of the 2014 Lotoja Classic, a very popular 200-mile road race:
  You see second place there? That’s Marci. And third? That’s Mary. And they’re on the same coed team. That could pose a significant problem to Team SBR-WBR.
• Racer 3: Troy is Racer 3. He was actually the guy who introduced The Hammer and me to The Rockwell Relay. Each year, my team has beaten his team. I can tell he wants to win this year. Wants it real bad.
• Racer 4: Danny is Racer 4. Honestly, I don’t know anything about him. But I choose to imagine him as an eight-foot-tall giant of a man who crushes rocks for fun and is not a professional cyclist only because he didn’t find it difficult enough of a challenge.

Luckily for me, I’m not at all interested in the competition aspect of this race. I’m just doing the Rockwell Relay to see the sites, enjoy others’ company, and have fun.

Yeah. Right.

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Just a Little While Longer

06.1.2015 | 7:09 am

A Note About 2015 FatCyclist Gear Delivery: A few of you have sent me email, tweets, Facebook messages and Pinterests (OK, actually nothing from Pinterest) asking when you’ll be getting your 2015 FatCyclist gear. The answer is: it’s on its way from Italy now, and will arrive in the DNA warehouse at the end of this week. Then, it all ships out to you early next week, arriving in most US locations by the end of next week. I’ll show photos and whatnot as it all arrives. 

A Note About the Rockwell Relay Pre-Race Chat: A few days ago, I had a conversation with the founder of the Rockwell Relay, along with a couple of experienced racers and one guy who’ll be racing the Rockwell Relay for his first time (as part of a two-person team, no less). It was a fun conversation with a lot of useful information for anyone who plans on doing this race. Click here for a recording of the chat. 

Just a Little While Longer

Recent studies conducted by highly-educated, intelligent-looking people (all wearing protective goggles and lab coats) have demonstrated that, more often than not, it is better for you to wait just a little while longer before correcting the cycling-related problem you are currently experiencing. The reasons are as surprising and manifold as they are relevant and commonsensical.

(Note: The data from this study is incontrovertible, so I am not going to take the time to present it, convey, or otherwise show it. Or summarize it. Or even mention it. It’s good data. Really good data. It’s the data-est.)

I am pleased to now share this information with you.

Rock In Shoe

You know that little rock you’ve got in your shoe? You know, the one that got kicked up by your front wheel, flew a perfect arc onto the one little gap between your foot and shoe — a gap so small that you wouldn’t have even known it’s there except obviously there is a gap, because that little rock has just executed an almost impossible feat of aerial acrobatics and is now in your shoe. 

Yeah, that rock. With every pedal stroke, you can feel it. Stuck right there between the shoe and your big toe. From the feel of it, it’s a pretty darned big rock. Bigger than you’d have thought could work into your shoe at all. 

But it’s there. Oh, it’s there all right. But it’s on the move now. It’s decided to park itself under your arch for a while. It’s a sharp little sucker, too. 

Maybe you should stop, take your shoe off, and dump that rock out.

Or better yet, maybe you should wait to remove it, for just a little while longer. 

After all, sometimes the rock moves to a place where you can hardly even notice it. Maybe it will find that place soon — in the triangle-shaped gap between your third and fourth toe and the front of the shoe — and it will stay there for the end of the ride.

Hm. Doesn’t seem to want to be moving right now, though, does it? It seems to have settled in right under the ball of your foot. Right where you put force down every pedal stroke. You’re really getting to know the shape, size, and density of that little rock now, aren’t you?

Still, though, you should probably wait just a little while longer. You’re riding with a group, after all. They aren’t going to want to wait while you stop, unclip, and perform the various ratcheting, velcro-ing, windup cabling, and plain ol’ shoelace-untying rituals necessary to get the shoe off.

And then you know you’re going to discover, when you finally dump that rock out, that it’s not all that big. Like, smaller than a BB. People are going to roll their eyes when they see what a tiny little thing it is you’ve made such a fuss over.

So just wait a little while longer. If it’s still bothering you in ten minutes, you’ll take it out then. 

Eating 

You’re racing. You’re riding hard. You’ve been burning calories  as if  it’ were actual fuel that makes your body perform. And it’s been about half an hour since you’ve had anything to eat.

Probably you should eat something, so you don’t bonk.

But, you know, maybe not just yet. Food just isn’t all that appealing right now. Which is a strange irony, and that irony is not lost on you: when you’re eating just for fun or out of habit, eating’s no problem at all. But when eating is a necessary component of staying strong and fast on your bike, well, hey: suddenly your stomach thinks now’s a perfect time to start a diet.

So, sure, you’ll eat. In just a few minutes.

But now a few minutes has gone by and — weirdly — you haven’t gotten hungrier. No, now you’re starting to feel a little bit gross, and the thought of food makes you feel even grosser. 

So you should probably wait just a little while longer.

And now, well, sure you’d eat if you weren’t on this technical downhill section of trail or road. Honest, you would. In fact, you’ll get to eating that gel as soon as you get to the bottom of it. 

Unless something comes up. Which, from the way you’re feeling, it very well could.

Sunscreen

Your neck is hot, and you’re pretty sure you know why. It’s sunny outside. Warmish. You’ve been out for three hours. 

Probably, it would be a good idea to reapply your sunscreen. 

But maybe wait just a little while longer. Hey, the ride’s almost over, really, and the day’s cooling down at this point. Or it will start cooling down, in just a few hours.

Didn’t someone tell you once that you can’t get sunburned after 4pm? You’re just a couple hours from 4pm at this point, so the sun probably isn’t as strong now, right?

And besides, it’s not like putting on sunscreen now as opposed to fifteen minutes from now. So put it off. Wait just a little while longer til you put on that sunscreen.

Really, what could go wrong?

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