10.16.2014 | 3:34 pm
Here’s are two very practical aphorisms you can share with people when you want to startle them with your deep insight into the underlying truths behind athletic efforts:
- Every race you’re in is exactly as important and exciting as you think it is.
- Any ride can be a race.
You know what? Those aren’t just aphorisms. Those are axioms. I should just end this blog post right here; I’ve already given you about ten times more value than you’ll get from the average award-winning cycling lifestyle blog written by a beloved A-list celebrity superstar blogger.
But I’m not done. In fact, I’m not even close to done. In fact, I haven’t even exactly gotten started.
My point — and yes, I do have one — is that The Hammer and I had been to Rebecca’s Private Idaho once to ride.
This time, we were there to race. Furthermore, we decided that we were going to treat it as an important race. And that we were going to race it as a two-person team.
And that I would do everything I could to be a good domestique. Not the best possible domestique, certainly. But still, pretty good.
Plus, I had a secret weapon. Or, as I’d later find out, two secret weapons.
I’m Doing Everything Wrong, Apparently
On the morning of the race I was standing around nervously. It’s what I do. It’s who I am.
And also, I was being indecisive. I couldn’t make up my mind on one particular thing. So I worked through it by chattering a stream of consciousness to The Hammer:
“So I’m going to ride in front of you the whole day, OK? I don’t want you pulling at all unless I completely self-destruct. And if I do self-destruct, you just keep going, OK? I’ll finish when I finish. But if I start gapping you, you let me know anytime I’m more than five feet ahead of you, OK? We both know there’s a lot of wind out there. But the one thing I’m wondering about is whether we ought to stay together during the first KOM climb. I kinda want to just hit that as hard as I can and see whether I can beat my time from last year, OK? But maybe that’s dumb because pulling you at race pace is going to take everything I’ve got and maybe more, right? So we should just stay together, including on that first big climb, OK?”
And so on. For absolutely completely reals.
The Hammer is used to it, she says.
And then, as I was standing and rambling, my good friend Robbie Ventura came over and looked at me. And my bike.
“Why are your handlebars so wide?” he asked. “Seems like they wouldn’t be very aero.”
“No, they’re probably not,” I agreed. “But they’re the handlebars I happen to own for this bike, and they’re really good for standing and climbing when I have it set up as a singlespeed.”
“Why are you riding a mountain bike anyway? Wouldn’t it be faster to race on a carbon cross bike?”
“It might be, but I don’t have one.”
“How come you have gels tucked under the legs on your shorts? You know that’s weight you’re unnecessarily lifting with each stroke of your pedals.”
“I had never thought of that.”
And then he looked at my secret weapon.
“What is that?” he asked.
I told him.
“Are you serious?”
“Completely serious. It’s my secret weapon. It’s going to make all the difference in the world today. It’s going to get The Hammer on the podium. Guaranteed.”
“If you say so,” he said, his tone implying the exact opposite.
And, having me doubt everything about everything I thought I knew, Robbie walked away.
We got in line, near the front, now quiet; I was no longer in a mood to jabber. Instead, I was pondering how much extra effort those gels under my shorts were costing me.
A lot, I’ll bet. A whole lot.
Subject to Revision
The race began, and The Hammer and I stayed together, keeping near the front. Shouting “HOLD YOUR LINE” at anyone who got within a couple yards of us. Which was, basically, everyone.
The first few miles were on the road. Folks were riding along at a relaxed, chatty pace. The first — and really, the only — big climb of the day approached.
I felt like my heart might explode. I wanted to go.
“Honey, I think I’m going to have to attack on the climb. I don’t think I can help it.”
“Have fun,” The Hammer said. “I’ll see you at the top.”
I saw the timing mat, saw a line, and I went. I shifted to a big gear and stood up, turning hard, slow circles.
Yes, that’s how I climb, even when I have gears. It’s been a while since I’ve done it any other way. I’m pretty sure Robbie Ventura would not approve.
Except, as he rode by me, showing no sign of effort — he said, “nice work, Fatty.”
And then, as I neared the top — fewer and fewer people around me — I saw Kathryn Bertine, the pro behind the Half the Road documentary, as well as As Good as Gold, which (I would find out later) turns out to be a hilarious and inspiring book.
“Hey Kathryn,” I said.
“Hey Fatty,” she said.
That was about as much conversation as I had in me at the time.
I got to the top, gassed and not even in the top ten finishers (last year I was second). Later I would find out I was twenty seconds slower than last year. Not bad. Not bad.
All Aboard the Dave Train
I got to the top, waited for a minute or so for The Hammer — who was one of the first three women to the top — and then we got rolling.
At which point we were caught by Dave Thompson. Here’s a picture of him (with The Hammer and Dave’s wife, Amy…I’ll let you figure out who is whom) back in Leadville a couple months ago.
Dave, like The Hammer and I and basically nobody else, was on a mountain bike.
Dave jumped in front as we rode along the moderate downhill, and pulled like he had been a locomotive engine in a previous life.
Which may in fact be the case. I’m not all that sure about the specifics of how reincarnation works.
The thing is, though, Dave was too strong for us. He kept riding us off his rear wheel. He’d pull away, gap us, look back, and then coast ’til we caught him.
Meanwhile, train after train of cyclocross bikes were zooming by. Hauling like this race was going to be over in an hour. There was a time when I would have tried to catch and ride with people like that. Those days are past.
Dave, however, had a sense of longing in the way he pedaled; you could see he wanted to go with one of those flying groups.
“Go,” I said. “We’ll catch you if we catch you.”
And like that, Dave was gone.
Now it was just The Hammer and me — cruising at an excellent race pace.
And still, groups of racers on cyclocross bikes kept flying by.
“Don’t worry about them,” I told The Hammer.
“Oh, I’m not,” she replied, casually. “If they were really that much faster than us, they would have gotten ahead of us during the climb.”
I Have The Power
And The Hammer was right. The course leveled out, we cruised past the second aid station, the course started climbing just a little bit…and there were those groups that were going so fast.
I pulled The Hammer up to them, rode behind them for a moment.
Then pulled to the front and began pulling a group. Before long, only a couple would be hanging on, and then they’d fall off too.
Without meaning to, we’d have just exploded a functioning peloton.
So we’d ride up to the next one and do it again.
I didn’t ask anyone to pull, I didn’t want anyone to pull. I had one task: to keep a speed just below what would put The Hammer into the red. Which, as it turns out, was just fast enough to blow up groups of guys on cyclocross bikes.
Dave was still ahead of us, though. Which wasn’t surprising, but it was too bad, because I had really been hoping to ride with him during today’s race.
Secret Weapon
Rebecca’s Private Idaho is a lollipop-style out and back, almost entirely on dirt roads. The loop at the top of the lollipop is where most of the climbing, the scenery, and anything remotely technical happen.
In other words, it’s the best part of the course.
Last year we just tooled along, shifting into low gears for this part of the ride.
This time, we kind of attacked it. And we kind of killed it. Passing people left and right on rocky descents, this is one part of the race where mountain bikes have the edge.
About the time we hit the halfway point — the top of the lollipop — I told The Hammer, “You go on for a minute without me. I need to use the bathroom…and to deploy The Secret Weapon.”
Which seems like a good place to pick up on Monday.
Comments (8)
10.2.2014 | 8:29 pm
Suppose there were an island in New York, just a quick ferry trip ride from the city. And suppose that island used to be a military installation, but now is abandoned.
What would you do with all the space in these now-abandoned military homes?
The possibilities are endless, no?
The reality — because there is such a place, called Governors Island — is that these spaces are lent to 100 NYC artists: painters, photographers, sculptors, and more.
And then, during the month of September, the whole place becomes an amazing — and free to the public — art fair.
It’s a brilliant, wonderful use of the place, and it’s all run by a few volunteer/artist types.
Like my genius artist sister, Lori Nelson.
She, along with the other good folks at 4Heads.org, are running a Kickstarter to make ends meet. They’ve hit and passed their goal of $15,000, but they could use a little more help.
and since a lot of the incentives for helping fund the Kickstarter are artwork my genius sister created, I’m going to extra-strongly recommend you check out and fund the Kickstarter (which ends Sunday).
For $50, you can get a fine art print of her “Stupid Hair” painting, from the Cryptotween series:
Or the one I picked: “Overbite:”
Or you can get a t-shirt with this very weird squirrel on it:
How odd that this very strange-looking squirrel obscured some of the text. I wonder what it says? I guess we’ll never know.
Oh, here’s my niece, modeling said t-shirt:
She probably makes it look better than you will. Don’t feel bad about that, though.
One last time, click here to go to the Kickstarter.
And have a great weekend.
Comments (5)
09.29.2014 | 9:50 am
Dear Lucky Eventual Winner,
First off, I should probably remind you: you have only a few more days to enter the contest to win a trip to Northern California. The one that is benefitting the Forget Me Not Farm. The contest ends Thursday at 11:55pm PT, October 2.
But the real reason I am writing you is that I feel I owe you an apology. Not for the fact that you have just won an incredible all-expenses-paid vacation at Boggs, a suite of races — a hill climb, an eight-hour team relay, and a downhill race — in a beautiful location. A race which sells out almost as soon as it opens.
No, I am not apologizing to you for that. Why would I?
What I am apologizing to you, Lucky Winner, is for what some people might call my excessive exuberance during this event. For my tendency to…shall we say…allow my cup of happiness to overflow. And to slop around and make a bit of a mess, to speak quite frankly.
I recognize now, from the below recent conversation which I had with Levi Leipheimer and his duly appointed legal representative Greg Fisher, that I can celebrate, from time to time, perhaps overmuch.
Please, allow me to explain what I expect the weekend to be like.
And to ask for your understanding in advance.
Upon Your Arrival
When you arrive in either the San Francisco or the Oakland airport on Thursday, May 30, I will do my best to be waiting there for you, with my arms open wide. If I cannot be there, I will find someone who is approximately the same height and weight as me to take my place.
Whether we embrace or give each other an enthusiastic handshake is up to you. High-fives are not on the table, due difficulties I have with eye-hand coordination.
From there, we shall whisk you away to Santa Rosa, driving in a reasonably-priced automobile, which will be equipped with both air conditioning and a stereo.
We will take the greatest care to make the automobile comfortable for you, by removing fast food wrappers before your arrival, and adjusting a combination of air conditioning dials and car windows to reach a temperature you find acceptable.
I will see to it personally that the stereo is tuned to play the radio station of your choosing.
An Evening of Luxury
Once you are in Santa Rosa, I will take you to NorCal Bikesport, where we will fit you for the bicycle you will use during this weekend. It will be the very finest in mountain bicycles, and the people at NorCal will treat you with the respect you would expect when you are my guest.
No. With more respect than you would expect to be given a guest of mine. If that is even possible.
Then we shall pay a visit to the Forget Me Not Farm. Odessa Gunn will perhaps give us a tour. Levi Leipheimer will perhaps saddle up and ride a llama. It will be an unforgettable afternoon, which will be topped off with a dinner at the franchised restaurant of your choosing.
If you like, you may even order a dessert.
High-Class Camping in a Recreational Vehicle
But your trip has just begun, for on the next day, after staying at a hotel — you need not worry, we will have separate rooms — we shall board a rented recreational vehicle, which has been stocked with tools, our bicycles, and BikeMonkey staff to wait upon our every need.
Also, there will be food. And pie of multitudinous variety, including but not limited to your favorite three flavors. We will feast on pie, you and I.
And I may very well grill bratwurst. Stranger things have happened.
We shall park at a primo spot, and then you, Levi, and I will walk around like we own the place.
Don’t worry, Levi is actually quite well-behaved, once you defeat him in a contest of some sort. I recommend a staring contest or indian leg wrestling.
We shall pick out spots for sleeping in this RV. I shall let you pick first. And if Levi tries to take your spot, well, he’ll get what’s coming to him.
The Hill Climb
When you and I embark upon the hill climb race on the first day, I shall do everything I can to ensure you do well in the race. This is includes attaching one end of a strong cord to Levi’s seatpost and the other end to your handlebar.
I’m very interested in your success, Contest Winner. Very interested indeed.
After this effort concludes, we’ll dine on all-beef frankfurters (or a substitute hotdog-shaped vegetable product, if that’s your choice) and soft drinks. Also, there may be alcoholic beverages to drink, as long as you promise to drink no more than Levi’s body weight (84 pounds).
The Main Event
I will do my utmost to not snore while sleeping in our RV, eventual winner, though you must cut me some slack in this regard. Once I’m asleep, there’s really not much I can do about it. Feel free to nudge me if necessary.
In the morning, I shall scramble you some eggs, or pour milk on your breakfast cereal. I am a versatile man, and will go out of my way to ensure your happiness.
Then it will be time for us to race in the 8 Hour Relay Event. I’ll go first. Or Levi will. Or you can. It’s your call entirely, for you are the boss. Don’t let Levi intimidate you into thinking he is the boss, because he is not.
If you want to go fast like some kind of crazy person, I am all for that, and will follow your lead, absolutely gutting myself in order to win glory for our team.
Levi has indicated he will do the same.
Likewise, however, if you prefer just to relax and rid a lap or two at an easy pace, that’s what we will do. The long and short of it is, we will figure out what would make a race fun for you, and then we will go out and have that fun.
And if I get a little bit too enthusiastic and sometimes annoy those around me due to my yipping and hopping around from foot to foot, I hope you will find it in your heart to forgive me. I am who I am.
No matter how fast — or how relaxed — we go, however, I can guarantee you one thing: that we will win our division. The reason I can make such a guarantee is that we will have a division of our very own.
We’re going up on the podium, you and I. Yes we are.
The Super D
I understand that we have the option to race a downhill event. I intend to spectate. I know what I’m good at, after all, and what I’m not.
If you choose to race, however, I will cheer you on with all the enthusiasm you could ever hope for or want.
Or indeed, tolerate.
Our Parting
You and I will become melancholy on the trip back to the airport, knowing that our weekend is at a close. And yet we will be grateful for the moments we have shared.
There is no chance we will not embrace.
I look forward to our adventure together. As does Levi. As will you. So you’d better donate now. Before it’s too late (For example, Friday is too late).
Kind Regards,
The Fat Cyclist
Comments (21)
09.15.2014 | 12:35 pm
A Note from Fatty: If you’ve had enough jibber-jabber and are looking for the registration / donation pages, here you go:
I sometimes wonder about evolution. About what particular combination of circumstances, challenges, advantages and environment has led various life forms to the place where they are now.
In particular, I sometimes wonder what almost impossibly-difficult-to-calculate set of factors occurring over unfathomable millennia resulted in what is, without question, my single greatest — and only quantifiable — super power:
The ability to ride my bike very fast while simultaneously eating a lot of food.
More specifically, to ride my bike really fast for a few minutes. And then to stop and eat a bunch of donuts.
And then to do that very same thing again.
And again.
With such a powerful gift, I believe it goes without saying that I am looking forward to the 2014 Utah Tour de Donut.
And you should be too. Especially if you live in Utah. And doubly especially if you live in the Salt Lake or Utah County area.
It’s ridiculous. It’s fun. And it raises a lot of money for causes I care about.
And it’s Saturday, September 27, at 8:00am.
You should register now.
Here’s How It Works
The rules of the Tour de Donut are simple (and detailed here), but really it’s very simple: You ride around a short, seven mile course three times. After laps 1 and 2, you stop and have the option to eat donuts — as many as you would like.
For every donut you eat, three minutes is subtracted off your total race time.
So, if you can eat a donut in less than three minutes, it pays to eat a donut. Up to a point. After which point (and you’ll have to figure out where that point is), there’s nothing in the world that could be sufficient incentive to eat another donut.
My limit, as I have discovered in past years (here are my writeups from 2010 and 2011), is around thirteen. Which is a lot…though nowhere close to a winning time (for that I’d need to have eaten 25 donuts), like Regan Fackrell, whose very name causes those of us who know what’s what in the famous Tour de Donut world to tremble in terror.
And to be honest, this year I don’t even expect to come close to my best finishing time; I’m going to be riding alongside my twin daughters. We’ll go their pace (The Hammer will probably be doing a 50K trail race that day).
I do, however, reserve the right to try to set a donut consumption PR. Anything higher than 13 will get me there.
Anyone want to bet for me on this? Against me?
Why You Should Be a Part of This
The Utah Tour de Donut is run by The Rotary Club of American Fork — which I am not a member of, because they said I was too great a legal risk.
No, they didn’t really say that. I’m just too lazy to join.
But I do love what the Rotary Club does, both for local and for worldwide causes.
Like, a part of the money raised will go to World Bicycle Relief.
But for this race, the local causes, in particular, are important to me. Thanks to the Tour de Donut, Lambert Park (which is close to my house) got some much-needed money when Alpine got flooded last year.
And more importantly, because of the Tour de Donut, the cancer wing in the hospital where Susan got treatment, has a nice blanket warmer:
It’s hard to read it in that picture, so a closeup of the plaque:
Yeah. I like that a lot.
Register…Or Just Donate
If you live in the area, you should seriously come do this with us. It’s silly, goodhearted fun that does a lot for good causes. Plus, friends of Fatty get a $5 discount. Just click here register, then enter “fatdonut2014” in the discount code section of the checkout form.
And if you don’t live anywhere near the race, why don’t you make the world think you did this race by buying a sticker for $5.00. It looks like this:
Obviously, it’s suitable for sticking on a bumper sticker — whether on your car or someone else’s is up to you.
To donate $5, click here to go to the Fundraiser page, then set the quantity to 5 (or multiples of 5 if you want more than one sticker).
I hope to see you there. If you’re not afraid of witnessing my superpower in action, that is.
Comments (9)
09.11.2014 | 10:40 am
A Note from Fatty: If you already know what this is about and how it works and now just want the link to donate, just click here to go to the fundraising page.
Things were not looking good. Not good at all. But now they’re looking good. For me, and for the GranFondo. And — most especially — for you.
To catch you up, things started getting ugly early this week when I said that I won’t be able to go to Levi’s GranFondo this year. The BikeMonkey guys — in a typical mega-company aggressive move — reacted by telling me that if I’m not coming to their party, I needed to reimburse them for certain…former indiscretions.
The conversation continued in Twitter, where I tried to come to reasonable terms.
The Bike Monkey bureaucrats would not budge.
Always trying to collaborate and drive to consensus, I tried again:
They continued to not budge.
I admit, I became desperate and made a suggestion I am not proud of.
Even that would not sway them.
Last-Ditch Appeal
I could tell I wasn’t getting anywhere with Bike Monkey, nor was I likely to. So I sent a message to Levi Leipheimer, hoping he could make them see reason.
It took a little back and forth, but eventually he relented.
To which I replied:
Because I did, in fact, have a plan. A very good plan.
A plan I think you’re going to like.
A Conversation With Levi
I called Levi. (Yes, I have his phone number, which he is none too happy about. But that’s beside the point.) The conversation went like this.
Me: So the Bike Monkey guys are invoicing me for around $34,000.
Levi: Yeah.
Me: That’s a lot of money.
Levi: Yeah.
Me: You know that I don’t have that kind of money, right? Not even close?
Levi: Yeah.
Me: Those guys at Bike Monkey have hearts of stone.
Levi: Yeah.
Me: And I’m pretty sure you do, too.
Levi: Yeah.
Me: But your wife, Odessa, on the other hand, seems like a genuinely good person. Someone who volunteers a ton of her time for a really amazing charity: Forget Me Not Farm. Where they bring together both kids and animals that have been abused, and help them heal each other?
Levi: Yeah.
Me: That’s pretty incredible. In fact, that’s amazing. I’d love to be a part of a program like that.
Levi: Yeah.
Me: I can hear “Judge Judy” on in the background. You’re not even listening, are you?
Levi: Yeah.
Me: So I could pretty much propose anything and you’d agree to it right now, right?
Levi: Yeah.
Me: How about this, then. Instead of me paying back Bike Monkey, how about we do a fundraiser for Forget Me Not Farm, instead?
Levi: Yeah.
Me: I’m recording this you know; you won’t be able to get out of this once you commit. So you’re in?
Levi: Yeah.
Me: OK. So here’s what I’m thinking we do. We have people donate multiples of $5 to my GranFondo fundraising page, with each $5 getting them a chance at the prize. The more you donate, the better your chance at winning.
Yeah: Levi.
Me: The prize is going to need to be awesome, though. Something crazily cool. Something that knocks people off their feet. Something that ropes you and Bike Monkey into doing most of the work, leaving my readers and me to just donating some money and then winning a cool prize. One that Bike Monkey provides at their expense, not mine.
Levi: Yeah.
Me: Hey, it’s been great talking with you. I’m going to get off the phone now and tell my readers what the prize will be, OK?
Levi: Yeah.
And then we hung up. Or at least, I hung up.
Levi may still be on the phone.
Race, Ride and Road Trip With Fatty and Levi
Boggs is not just a bike race. It’s three bike races: A hill climb. An Eight-Hour Race. And a Super D. And it’s in a spectacular location.
I’ve wanted to do it ever since I’ve known it exists. And now I’m going to get to.
And so — if you win — are you.
But that leaves us with a problem: who will be the third member on our team when we do the eight-hour race?
Levi Leipheimer, that’s who.
That’s right. The winner of this contest will be flown to Oakland or San Francisco, California, where you’ll be driven to Santa Rosa. We’ll hang out. Then you, me, and Levi will load up into an RV, and we’ll go road-tripping to Boggs.
You’ll be entered in all three events, though the only one I care about is that you will race with Levi and me in the eight-hour event.
And here’s the cool thing: I guarantee that we will win our category…because we will be racing in our own category.
That’s right. I’m guaranteeing you a podium spot in an eight-hour relay race. No matter how fast you are. Or how slow. Honestly, neither Levi nor I really care. We’re just looking forward to having fun.
Let’s Get Specific
So, to be clear, here’s what the prize of the “Race with Levi and Fatty” contest looks like:
- Round-trip travel for one to and from SFO or OAK from any destination in the contiguous 48 states
- Transfers to and from SFO or OAK to Santa Rosa lodging
- RV rental, camp fees, and gas from Friday, May 1 to Sunday May 3
- Race entry to all three events (Hill Climb, 8-Hour Race, Super D)
- 8-Hour event on a team with Levi and Fatty
- Groceries at Boggs (3 days food and drink)
- Event t-shirt
- Medal, poster, rider meal
- Big delicious beers
- Bike Rental
- Pie — lots and lots of pie
Seriously, this might be the coolest — and is certainly the most unique — prize I have ever put together.
But What If You Don’t Mountain Bike AT ALL?
Like I said, neither Levi nor I are really out for blood (though I reserve the right to change my attitude when the heat of the battle is upon me) in this race. We don’t care if you’re a near-pro or a novice. We’re here for the fun of it.
But if you just don’t want to do an MTB event at all, you should still enter this contest. Because you can swap this prize out for a 2015 trip to Levi’s GranFondo, instead, with equivalent level of luxury. Like, they’ll fly you out, put you up in a hotel, set you up with the whole VIP experience.
So, roadies, you have no excuse. Whatever way you go, we’ve got you covered.
Donate NOW
So. Go donate. You’ll be helping an amazing cause (the GranFondo supports a number of great causes, but in this case we’re specifically raisin money for Forget Me Not Farms).
And good luck. I’m looking forward to racing with you.
And Levi will look forward to it too I’m sure, as soon as he finds out that he is.
Comments (48)
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