01.11.2012 | 9:57 am
I got a letter a couple days ago. The subject line kind of caught my eye:
Fat Cyclist at the South Pole
Yeah, I decided to read it. Here’s what the author, Nate Cannon, had to say:
Fatty, I’ve been reading your site a while now and wasted many a working hours reading your race write ups, technical reviews, and general hilarious blogs.
I am currently 3 months into a 13 month stay at the Amundsen-Scott South Pole Station working for the US Antarctic program. Being that I was planning on being here a over year, and the thought of riding only spinning bikes makes me crazy, I bought a Pugsley fat tired bike before I came down.
And after years of regretting not buying a FC jersey, I picked up a full kit this summer, which I’ve really enjoyed. I finally got the time to have a friend come out to the South Pole with me and take the obligatory “hero” shots with my bike and rocking the FC jersey.
It was a nice relatively calm -14F, I’d taken a few rides that were well into the -20’s with wind chills reaching -40 and it’s hard to dress for that. I rock the bibs under 2 pairs of long johns and a pair of windproof pants, and it’s ok for a bit over an hour.
My friend taking pictures made me try to pop a wheelie, it was not a very good attempt.
I thought you might enjoy the pictures, I’m going to try and ride the bike all year, but in a few months we will have 24 hours of darkness and temperatures dipping below -100F, so I’m not sure I’ll be getting outside too much.
The next time I think it’s too cold for me to get out on my bike, I’m going to think about Nate. And go ride.
PS: Nate says he’ll check back on the blog and try to answer questions left in the comments.
Comments (58)
01.10.2012 | 7:24 am
When I am mountain biking, I am — unfortunately — easily distracted from the task at hand. When I should be paying attention to the fifteen to fifty feet ahead of me (depending on visibility of what’s ahead as well as how technical the trail is), I will sometimes make the crucial and possibly unforgivable error of looking off to one side or another.
I will, instead of attending to the trail, look at the mountain. Or at a pretty tree. Or the sky. Or at animals and bugs.
Sometimes, I will completely lose my head, stop altogether, and start talking with the people on the ride.
I should know better. Eyes on the trail, man; feet on the pedals. Focus. Focus! This ain’t no time for jibber-jabber!
I can’t help myself. When I’m mountain biking, I want to look around.
Fortunately, I generally am much better-behaved when I ride my road bike. When I’m riding on the road, I pay attention to the thing I ought to be paying attention to.
The white line.
What’s Strange
When I am off the road bike, I sometimes wonder what is so special about that white line. All it signifies, when I’m off the bike, is where the shoulder begins. When I’m in a car, for example, I will glance at it and think nothing more than, “I should probably not cross that line, since I don’t like the sounds of rumble strips, and The Hammer will think I’ve fallen asleep at the wheel again.”
And then I won’t think about it again until I fall asleep at the wheel (again).
Indeed, when I am not riding my road bike, hours and hours and hours might elapse with me giving the white line nary a thought. And I’ll bet that you’re no different. I’ll bet, in fact, that if you haven’t been out road riding today, you haven’t dwelt on the white line for more than 0.2 seconds (excluding, of course, the time you’ve been thinking about it while reading this post).
But if you have been riding today, I’ll bet you’ve spent a considerable amount of quality time with the white line. As in, I’ll bet you’ve spent more time looking at the white line than any other object today.
Which is, when you think about it, quite weird.
Now, don’t get your hackles up. I’m not saying you’re weird. No. I’m saying we’re weird, because I don’t even know how much time I’ve spent staring at that white line in my road-riding, cycling lifetime. I am, however, happy to make a number up out of thin air. Over fifteen years of riding, I’ll bet more than two thousand hours. Conservatively.
Yes, that’s right. Having made this number up, I’m now quite confident that I’ve spent more than two thousand hours staring at the white line painted on a road.
What’s Even Stranger
What’s even stranger than how much time I’ve spent staring at the white line, though, is what I’ve been staring at the white line instead of.
When, for example, last year Kenny, Heather, The Hammer and I relay raced from Moab to St. George — 500 miles in one day, across some of the most stunning desert landscape you could ever hope to take in — guess what my predominant memory of the course is?
The white line.
Or how about my most vivid memory of Mt. Nebo, my favorite local training century ride, due to the obscene amount of climbing, the staggering mountain vistas, and the intense paceline return trip?
The white line.
Or — and this hurts me to say it, because it’s pretty embarrassing — what about that trip-of-a-lifetime cycling vacation The Hammer and I took to France last summer? My very first biking trip in Europe?
Well, I saw a lot of beautiful things, that’s for sure. But when I was on the bike, I saw more white line than everything else put together.
If you want to blow the minds of a roomful of cyclists sometime, pose the question: “How much time, in the history of modern cycling, do you think the sum total of cyclists have spent staring at a white line?”
The number, I assure you, is staggering, and probably has “to the power of” in it somewhere.
The Strangest Thing of All
But you know what’s really, truly strange? This: I am not even a tiny bit ashamed or regretful of all that time I’ve spent staring at the white line.
Really. I’m not.
Because I think that staring at the white line is indicative of the biggest difference between road and mountain biking. And, in fact, it’s part of why I love road biking.
See, when you’re staring at the white line, your eyes are fully occupied. And since you’re on a road bike with your body performing a demanding-but-repetitive action, your body is fully occupied, too.
This leaves your mind free to wander a bit.
While staring at the white line, I’ve had my best blog post ideas just pop into my head (in fact, a good road ride is the one surefire way I can be guaranteed to come up with a usable post idea; ask The Hammer how many times I’ve said, while we’re riding together, “Hey, I just realized what I’m writing about tomorrow.”). I’ve resolved difficult work problems, without being aware that I was even thinking of them.
And, occasionally, while staring at the white line, I’ve experienced tranquility. I’ve been riding along, pedaling away, trying to turn less squarey circles, and then . . . something happens.
Or maybe it’s more honest to say something stops happening. Regardless, time (I don’t know how much) passes, and I become aware again. I’ve gone some distance, but I don’t really remember it. I don’t remember what I was thinking, but I do know I feel good. Peaceful. Happy.
And all I was doing was riding my bike and staring at the white line.
Comments (44)
01.3.2012 | 10:40 am
Let it be known: there is such a thing as feeling too good. I have proof, which I shall present, in the form of an anecdote.
This anecdote is true, by the way.
It’s been such a strange December here in Utah — the driest on record, according to the weatherman. This means that at least the low trails in the mountain bike parks close to home are dry. Or on the cold days, even the higher ones are frozen. And in either case, there’s often no snow whatsoever on the trail.
Which means this has been the most mountain bikey December on record. As in, I’m getting out three or four times per week.
So, last Saturday afternoon — New Year’s Eve, for crying out loud — The Hammer and I headed out to Lambert Park for a couple hours on the trails.
And it was wonderful, for any number of reasons, including (but not limited to) the following:
- It was so warm outside that tights, a long-sleeve jersey, and some midweight gloves were all you needed to ride comfortably. This meant my biggest grievance with winter riding — that you feel all insulated, isolated, and constricted — wasn’t much of a factor.
- The trails were amazing. They had been wet earlier in the week, but — and this is so freaky — they had actually dried out during the week, and were now nice and tacky.
- I was loving my new bike. I know I ‘m a total bike magpie (i.e., easily distracted by the newest shiny object), but the Specialized Stumpjumper Carbon 29 Singlespeed I’ve built up and have been riding lately is such an incredibly great bike. It is so light. So fast. So — and I’m kind of reaching for a word to describe what I’m feeling here, so bear with me — communicative. (Note to SS guys: 34×19. Note to weight weenies: 17.2lbs. Note to people who like to know specs: click the photo to see a larger version and you should be able to tell what everything is.)
So The Hammer and I are riding in Lambert Park. The only deadline we have is darkness, since we’ve already got the New Year’s festivities with the kids planned (dinner, homemade doughnuts, Guesstures).
So with time on our hands and a beautiful day to ride, we’re playing the game we usually do when we ride Lambert: Design the Ride. Over the course of this past few weeks, we’ve made a point of understanding the snarl of trails in this park, and can now make up and call out the next part of the ride he or she wants to do, like a square dance caller.
“Wildcat to corkscrew to Zig to ZPC to Poppy to Ruin to Luge to Spring to Rodeo!”
“Rodeo up to Middle Spring to Spring to River!”
“River to Zag to Indian to Brown Dog to Corkscrew to Zig!”
We were — and I’m reiterating here for the sake of emphasis — having a great time. Not training, not trying to get in a certain number of miles or hours or intensity or anything.
We were having fun. And I was feeling good.
Too good.
Brakes Work Best When You Use Them
So the light’s gone a little flat and we figure it’s time to head back home. We’re at the top of Zig, named so because of the fun way it has been constructed, taking advantage of the ravines and contours in the park — banking and swooping in the high desert singletrack.
I’m out front, because I like descending faster than The Hammer does.
I come to a banked sweeping corner. Usually I put a little bit of brake on for it, but I usually don’t feel quite so on-top-of-the-world. At this moment, I am absolutely positively sure that without braking at all I will successfully fly through this corner.
I am wrong.
About halfway through the sweeping left corner, my front wheel washes out right. I go down on my left side, at full speed, still clipped in, bumping and sliding in the dirt, brush, and rocks.
Eventually, I slide to a stop.
I begin yelling.
Now, I should note that my post-crash yelling is somewhat famous, thanks in equal parts to the volume, intensity and duration of this yell. It has even been given a name: “The Elden Scream.” I would suggest, however, that this yell (please, let’s not call it a scream) serves a number of valuable purposes:
- It is cathartic. Yelling at the top of your lungs when you’re hurt helps you feel better. Really. Try it the next time you get a sliver or break a leg or something.
- It is expressive of how I feel about the situation.
- It alerts others to my situation and the likelihood that I am going to need someone to call an ambulance or LifeFlight or a shaman or something. And also that I am lying in the middle of the trail and that I would really appreciate it if anyone behind me would please slow down and also not run me over, thanks.
So while I was yelling (i.e., not screaming) in this case somewhat for reasons #1 and #2, I was really yelling mostly for reason #3: I didn’t want The Hammer to run me over.
At least that’s what I choose to claim.
As it turns out, that needn’t have been a concern, because I had come to rest (though I hardly found my state restful) to the side of the trail.
Tangled up with my bike. On my back, staring at the sky. My head pointing downhill, my bike uphill from me.
Still clipped in.
So, yes, I was yelling. But let us put that aside for a moment. Because quite apart from my visceral shouting (not screaming), There was a monologue going through my mind.
I shall now share it with you.
“I should get up. When The Hammer gets here, it would be better if I were standing up.”
“Nope, I can’t stand up. I can’t sit up, either. In fact, I can’t even unclip. How weird is it that a seventeen pound bike can so effectively pin me to the ground like this.”
“You know what would be an awesome, money-making invention? If there were some way to have a camera always rolling about three feet above an to the side of you, so you could see exactly what caused your crashes, and whether crashes look as spectacular as you hope they do. I don’t think I’ve ever seen video of me having a really good crash.”
“How come The Hammer isn’t here yet? Am I still screaming yelling? I am? OK.”
“Where do I hurt, anyway? Right thumb, left hip. Those are the biggies. Back hurts a little, too. Left butt cheek feels like it’s pretty scraped up. I’ve had worse crashes.”
“How come, if I went down on my left side, it’s my right thumb that hurts? It seems like with every crash, there’s at least one injury that doesn’t make any sense.”
“Why did I think I could take this corner without braking? That was totally stupid.”
“I’m staring at the sky, so I’m on my back. But what direction is my body facing? Oh, I can see up the trail. So I spun 180 degrees when I landed.”
“Maybe I should try to get free of the bike. No, The Hammer will get here in a second. Wow, I really wish The Hammer would get here and get this bike off me. “
“Oh good. There she is. I should probably try to stop yelling now.”
All of this happens in the space of probably five seconds, after which The Hammer discovered me, and asks, as she untangles me from the bike, “How come you’re facing backwards?”
“I think I kept spinning after I landed,” I replied, no longer yelling.
“OK,” The Hammer replies. “You’ve got quite a pair of lungs, by the way. I’ve never heard such loud screaming.”
Comments (50)
12.27.2011 | 8:46 am
This is my last post for the year. I’m going to leave it up for a week or so, because it’s got a nice piece of news and a very interesting question.
Let’s start with the question.
Imagine a World…
I woke up last night with the strangest question running through my mind. I don’t remember whether the question came from a dream — I don’t remember having a dream.
But if that question did come from a dream, what a nightmare.
Anyway, here’s the question:
How would your life be different if there were no such thing as bicycles?
Take a minute to think about this question, then answer in the comments section. And no sneakily trying to worm your way around the substance of the question by answering something like, “I’d invent the bicycle.”
Also, no ridiculous drama, like, “I’d kill myself.” Because you wouldn’t. Just like you haven’t killed yourself over the lack of other amazing, life-improving things that somehow haven’t been invented (I’m looking at the empty space you should be occupying, metabolism-increasing pill).
So, just think about the question and consider what a universe without bicycles would mean to you personally.
I’ll look forward to reading your answer (and later in the day, I’ll post one of my own).
Comedian Mastermind: Post-Christmas / End-of-Year Sale
Maybe you were hoping to get a copy of my book, Comedian Mastermind: The Best of FatCyclist.com, for Christmas. Or maybe it just seemed too expensive. Or maybe you were waiting for some other reason.
In any case, there are literally billions of people on this earth who have not yet purchased a copy of my book. And that just breaks my heart.
So, for those of you who are on the fence, in spite of the (surprisingly?) good reviews and feedback this book has received, I’m having a sale on this book ’til the end of the year, both for the Kindle and paperback version:
Why am I doing this? Well, for a few reasons.
- I’m experimenting. Honestly, I don’t know much about publishing, price points, sales, and stuff like that. I’m trying different things and learning as I go. Hopefully, some things will work out well; I’ll do those things again.
- I want to sell a lot of books. For the past few days, the Kindle version of my book has been the top-selling Cycling e-book at Amazon.com. I’ve done a screenshot to prove it and everything:
That is pretty awesome (especially considering the other books in the list). However, in the overall Cycling Top-10 list (not just e-books), I haven’t been able to quite make it to the top:
Yeah, I guess that’s what I get for helping promote Dr. Lim’s book, eh? Anyway, I’d like to see my book in the number 1 spot on both lists, just so I can make that claim. So, if you’ve been thinking of getting a copy of my book and just haven’t pulled the trigger, now would be a great time to do it.
- I think you’ll like it. Seriously, I’m really proud of this book, and I’m excited at how much people who have read it like it. And I have a hunch that if I give you a good deal on this book, then you buy it and read it, you’ll tell a couple friends, and maybe they’ll buy copies too.
And then I’ll be one step further along in my big plan. And you’ll have helped me get there.
So thanks. Now go buy either the Kindle or Paperback version of my book. Now.
PS: Just in case you don’t come back before next week: Happy New Year! And thanks for being a part of this blog.
PPS: At least for an hour, early on Wednesday, December 28, Comedian Mastermind was at the top.
Comments (104)
12.26.2011 | 10:33 am
We’re down to the last few days of this year, which is a perfect time to sit back, relax, and quietly reflect on what has happened during the past twelve months. After all, by thinking about what you’ve done — both good and bad — you gain insight into what you want to do differently (as well as the same) in the future.
Unfortunately for me, though, I’m currently about 30% done writing a research report (yes, I write research reports as part of my day job. Envy me.) that ought to be about 90% done right now. Until I finish that (hard deadline of Wednesday, thanks), there will be very little quiet moments of reflection happening here.
There may, however, be moans of panic.
That said, I do want to take a moment today to recognize what we, as Team Fatty, have accomplished this year, as do-ers of good deeds. I think it’s a pretty impressive list.
LiveStrong
Team Fatty started its dominance in the universe of charitable giving with LiveStrong, and we continued this proud tradition in 2011. Specifically, at the LiveStrong Davis Challenge, we raised the most money — $118,000 — and were the largest team. In fact, of all awards given at that event, Team Fatty won…all of them.
We did that as a team by raising money through bike giveaways, by selling jerseys, and by doing the 100 Miles of Nowhere.
More importantly, though, we did it by members of Team Fatty using their collective genius to creatively find ways to ask other people to help out.
We also had an amazingly good time, from an extraordinary team gathering at the Bicycle Museum to pie after the ride to the ride itself.
I loved it all, and I can’t wait to do it again. Click here to join Team Fatty for LiveStrong Davis in 2012. It’ll be fun. We’ll meet at the Bike Museum again.
We’ll eat more pie.
And since this will be the largest gathering of Team Fatty in 2012, you really should do it.
You’ll have a great time, and you’ll be doing something important toward helping in the fight against cancer.
It’s worth the effort, both in terms of good you’ll be doing and fun you’ll be having. I promise.
American Fork Canyon Half Marathon
This was a local event, but I loved being part of it and I loved what it represented. This first-ever half marathon raised $55,000, with all of it going toward cancer treatment for those who could not afford it.
Right now, with the economy in the tank, knowing that we did something good for some people who otherwise would have to compound their suffering over cancer itself with anxiety over paying for treatment, well, I’m glad that Team Fatty and I were able to be a part of it.
Grand Slam for Zambia
Team Fatty’s most incredible success this year has to have been the “Grand Slam for Zambia” project, where we set the audacious goal of raising enough money — $134,000 — to buy 1000 bikes for kids in Zambia, thereby providing the catalyst to change 1000 lives for the better, in a very big way.
Well, we didn’t quite raise that $134,000.
No, we raised $158,507.00. Enough to buy 1,125 bikes.
Mind-boggling.
And you know what? Those bikes are starting to make their way into kids’ hands. We’ve got video. I’ll show you soon.
You will be so proud of what you have been part of.
Tour de Donut
Team Fatty got its first taste at being the title sponsor of an event. Which really means that I got to donate some money to a local event because the money they are raising will be used to buy a blanket warmer for the cancer center Susan used to go to for chemo treatments. I can easily imagine how much she would have liked to have a nice warm blanket while she sat and got chemo, so this was an easy event to support.
Yes, we’ll definitely be doing this again in 2012. Mark your calendar for July 14!
Young Survival Coalition Tour de Pink
My friend Dustin Brady — Marketing Guru for Shimano — made a couple of promises to his fiancé before she passed away: to support the Young Survival Coalition, and to race the Kona Ironman.
Team Fatty was proud to follow Dustin as he kept his race goal and to help Dustin with supporting YSC. In fact, Team Fatty raised $22,005 for the Tour de Pink, and got to send breast cancer survivor Heather S to ride the Tour de Pink as a Team Fatty ambassador.
We’re going to be back in 2012. In much greater numbers.
Helping Stephen
A kid in my neighborhood fighting Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. His family doesn’t have a lot of money for treatment, and I asked you all to help me raise some money for him by buying my book, with the plan being that I’d use all profits from the sales of 100 books to go to Stephen.
Well, you all came through, big time, by donating and buying books. In one weekend, we raised $3141 for Stephen’s treatment.
Levi’s GranFondo
What we did with Levi’s GranFondo definitely put the “fun” in “fundraising. Beginning with an appeal to Levi’s sense of decency, which was responded to by his tough-talking lawyers, then finally settled by the good folks at BikeMonkey.
We gave away an awesome trip and other schwag, and raised $7405 for the many good causes supported by Levi’s GranFondo.
My Book
To be honest, I’m not sure my book belongs in this list, because it’s not like in this case I’m raising money to go toward a charity.
No, I’m raising it for myself, in order to build the nest egg I need to research and write the Caretaker’s Companion book I want to do.
So let’s just include it and say that more than 1600 of you have bought a copy so far. Which is a pretty great start for a book that’s been out for less than a month.
Sales of that book are ongoing, by the way. Details on buying the paperback, Kindle, and autographed versions of the book can all be found here.
Thank You
I’m not going to go and add up how much money Team Fatty raised this year. Even though I’m pretty sure it would add up to an awesome number.
I’m not going to go back and count how many fundraisers we did. Even though there were a lot.
Because what matters — as far as I am concerned — is that, pretty much non-stop, we kept doing something good, for some important cause. All throughout the year.
In 2011, Team Fatty made a big difference in a lot of people’s lives. For the good.
All while being remarkably silly.
Thank you for being a part of that.
Comments (27)
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