And I could go on. See, I wasn’t kidding when I said “many” twice in the above paragraph.

Of all the truly wonderful things about road biking, however, one thing surpasses them all:

The convenience store.

Truly, the modern convenience store is a marvel of nature, ideally adapted for the road cyclist, and in particular for the road cyclist who’s been riding for several hours and has a $10.00 bill in his (or, to be sure, her) jersey pocket.

Convenience stores are, simply, the best thing about road cycling.

And if you don’t agree with me, try riding — as The Runner and I did about a week ago as we pre-rode the St. George Ironman road course — about seventy miles into a headwind, with another several hours of riding left to go, when you find yourself confronted by a convenience store.

At that moment, I guarantee you will find yourself in agreement with me, as you should have been all along.

The Remarkable Thing About Convenience Stores

Consider this for a moment: You have been on your bike for hours, and you are hungry. And thirsty. For some reason, you cannot get the image of a Fat Boy ice cream sandwich out of your mind. And the thought of a Mountain Dew is lodged in there pretty well, too. And so is a Churro. And Twizzlers (or Red Vines — let’s not argue).

You stop at a convenience store, and — really, this is just magical — you can convert a small piece of paper into all of these things. It boggles my mind, frankly, that someone would give me all this food, for which I would gladly trade my bike, my helmet, my shoes and my glasses, in exchange for a little piece of paper.

A piece of paper becomes a delicious ice cream sandwich. Seriously. It’s like I’m some kind of genius ice-cream-obsessed alchemist or something.

Or, if you’re all high-techy and stuff, you can swipe a card with magnetic strip in exchange for the same kind of thing. In which case you are literally getting something for nothing.

Cornucopia of Goodness

The simple fact that a negligibly light piece of paper can be converted into a vast amount of food is enough to treat convenience stores as a modern miracle. But there’s more.

Specifically, the variety is incredible. At one recent convenience store stop — in Veyo, Utah, during the aforementioned death march against a headwind — I purchased and ate a large cup full of serve-yourself soft-serve ice cream, during which I demonstrated my ability to stack ice cream very high indeed. And then I had a soft pretzel. And a hot dog.

And while I did not have a package of Fig Newtons, nor a plate of nachos, nor a monstrous Snickers bar, nor a Haagen-Dasz bar, I could have. And nearly did. And maybe would have, but people were starting to stare.

Really, the variety of ways I could satisfy my hunger — a hunger understood only by cyclists who have been running on empty for hours — was practically endless.

I am not ashamed to say that — so great was my gratitude for all these good things, neatly arranged in rows and along the self-serve counter at the wall — that I nearly climbed over the counter to hug the clerk.

But he did not look like the kind of person who wanted or needed a hug, so I stuck with profusely thanking him for letting me buy the double-armload of food. “Thank you, sir,” I said, my eyes misting over with joy, “for stocking your store so thoroughly and so well. Furthermore, thank you for being willing to part with this food. You can be confident that I will use it well and enjoy all of it.”

Since this convenience store is the first one in many miles along a very popular cycling route, I’m guessing this was not the first time this clerk has been thanked in this way.

Ubiquity

If there were just one convenience store in the world, cyclists would travel from every continent, just to plan a ride that had that convenience store on the route.

Although, come to think of it, you’d need a different name for this hypothetical sole convenience store, since for the vast majority of the universe, it would be very inconvenient.

“Inconvenient store,” maybe? Not very catchy, I’m afraid.

My point, though, is that convenience stores are convenient. They’re all over the place. Unless you’re starting and staying on a wilderness road, you will almost certainly pass a convenience store as you ride by.

Which, I believe, is the most compelling proof there is that progress is good.

Something for Nothing

And now I come to the part where I have to shamefacedly admit something. At this particular convenience store on this particular day, I actually had no cash at all, nor a card. I was bumming off The Runner, who had thoughtfully brought $20 — enough money to let me buy a second serving of soft-serve. Which I did.

But even if The Runner had chosen not to spot me the money I needed to indulge my most remarkable superpower — the ability to eat vast quantities, all the time — the convenience store would still have been a boon.

Sure, I wouldn’t have been able to have ice cream or a churro. And that would have been very sad indeed. But convenience stores carry a number of free items that can help the cash-strapped cyclist in need of calories.

Take, for instance, water. And sugar, and a number of lemon wedges — all free, when combined into your water bottle. Shake vigorously. Congratulations, you’ve just made a nice little hobo sports drink.

Need more calories? I have two words for you: Mayonnaise packets. They’re as plentiful as they are delicious. The mayo is delicous, I mean. The packets themselves are pretty difficult to swallow. Did you know, in fact, that ounce for ounce, mayonnaise has more calories than any energy gel in existence? Plus, mayo is free. And it goes great with mustard and is delicous on just about any kind of sandwich.

And there’s more. Need sodium? Pickle relish is free. Thirsty? Water’s free.

Need to use the bathroom? Yep, free.

Which makes me want to ask: Convenience stores, why are you so generous and good?

The truth is, what we called a “honeymoon,” many people would have called an intense five-day training camp. Hard hikes, long runs, mountain biking, and road biking. And a lot of Mexican food (we weren’t in Mexico; we both just like Mexican food).

It was perfect. And I have many stories to tell.

But today — because I’m still feeling all lovey-dovey — I’m going to talk about the oddities I’ve recently learned about when cyclists make a love connection.

Attire

If you ride a bike for enough years, it permanently warps your sense of fashion. This happens in stages.

1. Revulsion. When you first start riding, you find cycling clothes off-putting. The jerseys are too tight, and the colors are ridiculous. The shorts are obscene, and the chamois, well, it makes you look foolish and awkward.
2. Acceptance. After a time, you realize that bright jerseys help motorists see you, the polyester wicks sweat pretty well, the tight fit keeps the jersey from flapping in the wind or inflating like a kite, and those tight lycra shorts — chamois and all — do a good job of keeping your legs from chafing and don’t get in the way of your ride.
3. Enjoyment. After riding long enough, you begin to associate the pleasure of cycling with the clothes you wear while cycling, and somehow your head makes you think that you actually like the clothes themselves.

To this commonly-accepted (even though I just made it up) progression, I would add a fourth step: Attraction. Specifically, I have — a number of times — told The Runner that my favorite look for her is when she’s suited up for a ride: hair in a ponytail poking through the back of her helmet, no makeup at all, shorts, jersey, biking socks and shoes on.

Oh, and I dig the fingerless gloves, too.

The Runner, as near as I can tell, does not believe that I am telling the truth, but I swear I am. My thinking is that people look their best when they are dressed to look like their true selves — in The Runner’s case, as an athlete (i.e., she looks just as good when suited up to run).

I can’t be the only one who thinks this way. Can I get an “amen” from guys who think their women (or women in general) look their hottest when on a bike?

And as for you women, well. The Runner, on a group ride a couple weeks ago, confided to me, “There are five guys in tight shorts with extremely nice butts, right in front of me. I love road rides.”

To which I responded, “You are not allowed to ride with men, ever again. Ever.”

Impressing the Opposite Sex

This part is not really unique to cycling, but as a 43.75-year old man, I would have thought I’d be immune to it. Turns out I’m not.

The part I’m referring to is, of course, the male impulse to do something stupid, in the hopes that a particular female will not think it’s stupid, but rather that it’s awesomely sexy and stuff.

I wonder if that has ever worked?

In any case, I bring this up because last Friday, The Runner and I arrived in St. George in the early afternoon, and found — to our surprise — that it was sunny and warm outside. We quickly made our way to the Bear Claw Poppy trail (which means, I think, that this trail was named after a couple of different kinds of pastries).

Neither of us had ever ridden the trail before; both of us were on singlespeeds. I led out, and shortly came upon a group of guys with big-hit full suspension rigs, all looking down at the approach to a drop. Another from their group were at the edge of the drop, looking over. I could not see what was beyond that edge.

Nobody was going.

The Runner rolled up to the edge to have a look, at which point I had a really awesome idea: I would just go ride it.

So I did. Butt over the back seat, rear brake feathered, front brake untouched.

I got to the edge of the drop and saw — to my relief and pleasure — that it was not beyond my ability. Not even close, really. So I rode it, then stopped and scooped up and threw leaves into the air, while thumping my chest and shouting “Ook Ook OOOOK.”

And then for the rest of the trail, whenever there were markings saying that the trail was easier in one direction and harder in another, I’d take the harder direction. Hoping to impress my woman.

I did all this, by the way, after we had been married, meaning that — I think — I had done all the mate-attracting stunts necessary.

Which just goes to show — and I believe I may not be the first person to assert this — men are dumb.

I could point out, by the way, that none of this was anywhere near as dumb as — having finally recovered from hip flexor pain that lasted a month and prevented me from running even once in weeks — I went ahead and did a half-marathon-distance run with The Runner the next day, just to show that I’m every bit as smart as a bar of soap.

Early in the ride, we came to a seesaw. This one was taller and shorter than the seesaw I had ridden the last time we had been in the area, the board was narrower, and it was made of smooth wood. Also, the approach was downhill and around a bend.

I admit it: I was scared.

I approached the seesaw too slowly. By the time I was about halfway up, my front wheel was wobbling. I nearly stalled out, and my front wheel rolled off the right side of the seesaw.

This, as you may expect, was not a desirable situation.

From a height of probably five feet, I fell over the front of my bike. Ordinarily, I’d put my hands out to catch my fall, but this time I didn’t. I pulled my arms in toward my chest, and landed in a nice forward roll, finishing in a sitting position, astounded that I was not hurt even a tiny bit. I sat for a moment, stunned at my good fortune.

Bob shouted, as I sat there, dropped his bike, and ran over. “Are you OK?” he asked.

I admitted that to my amazement, I was just fine.

Bob then started laughing, recounting how the fall looked from his perspective, describing the contributing factors to my crash, and how surprised he was that I hadn’t snapped a wrist on that fall.

It was at this moment that I realized the reason I really like riding with Bob. He knows proper crash etiquette.

And Then There’s Brad

Bob’s behavior stands in marked contrast to how another friend of mine reacted after I crashed. Let’s just call him “Brad” (because his name is in fact actually Brad). He and I were riding a goat trail coming down from Jacob’s Ladder, which is part of the Hog’s Hollow network. I had never ridden this descent before, and so was surprised when it suddenly terminated with a three foot dropoff onto a dirt road. I flipped over my handlebars and landed on my back. It hurt. A lot.

Brad, naturally, took this opportunity to immediately begin laughing his head off. Without asking if I was OK. Without saying, “Sorry I didn’t warn you about how this trail ends.” Without any clue that several years later, I’d be tearing him a new one in the most public way I could imagine.

Proper Crash Etiquette

So, let this be a lesson to you. If you don’t follow the rules of Crash Etiquette, you may someday reap the consequences (Have I mentioned that this is the same Brad who bailed on his last lap when we were racing the 24 Hours of Moab as a 2-person team, and then didn’t even stick around to see me finish when I did his lap for him? Yep, he just packed up his gear and went home while I was on the course.).

Luckily, the rules of Crash Etiquette are quite simple. Most anyone can follow this simple five-step procedure:

1. At the moment of impact, express astonishment and dismay. The best possible noise you can make when another person crashes is the noise you imagine yourself making if you were to have that selfsame crash. But an audible gasp or “Whoah!” will do fine.
2. Immediately check to see if the crasher is OK. Saying “Are you OK?” is the correct way to do this. If a pool of blood or a compound fracture is evident, you should still ask the question.
3. Recount the incident. While the crasher is collecting his or her wits, describe the accident, in as dramatic fashion as you possibly can. This will help the crasher feel like the pain is worth it. Anything for a good story.
4. Once the crasher stands up, you are allowed to laugh. But not before then. And if the crasher is crying, you are not allowed to laugh. However, you are allowed to pretend the crasher is not crying, awkwardly avoiding looking at the crasher’s face.
5. Speculate. Spend a few minutes describing the root causes for the crash. Slippery rock, mossy root, off-camber trail, and scree are all excellent reasons.

Most of you will learn this procedure quickly and will have no trouble with this important process.

Brad, you may want to print it and tape it to your bike.

And yet, I never ride alone. There’s always that stupid voice in my head, right there with me, providing a narrative, giving advice, and making remarks about my riding ability.

Frankly, I don’t care for him much.

Meet the Voice in My Head

Oh, he (yeah, he’s male) doesn’t talk all the time. In fact, sometimes he’ll go for long stretches without saying a word. And the times he chooses to talk actually says a lot about him. It’s always when I’m right at my limit. I could use some encouragement. And so that’s when he says things like,

• “So. This is all you’ve got, is it?”
• “Any time you’d like to step it up, feel free.”
• “Come on. Go. Seriously, it’s time for you to stop holding back.”

And, sometimes, he doesn’t say anything at all. He just laughs. Man, I hate it when he does that.

No Comfort, No Help

As near as I can tell, the voice in my head lives to motivate me exclusively through the medium of sarcasm and derision. Why is this the case? I mean, this is just a voice in my head. It’s me, talking to me. Why can’t I say nice things to myself?

For example, I’d love to hear me say to myself:

• “Hey, you’re headed for a personal best. Keep up the good work!”
• “Don’t worry about fading. You’ve done your best.”
• “You can do it! I have complete confidence in you!”

Come to think of it, never mind. That guy sounds like a motivational speaker. I think I prefer the sarcastic, snide guy.

Maybe It’s Just One Guy?

I did extensive research for today’s post, consisting of instant messaging with my friend Dug for a few minutes. First off, I should point out that it’s not easy to broach this topic. Asking a guy if he hears voices in his head is similar to accusing that guy of being insane.

Dug said that of course he heard a voice when he’s riding hard. As near as I could tell, it’s the same guy I hear. Condescending, disappointed, and curious as to why you’re even bothering if this is all you’ve got.

I developed the theory that perhaps everyone has the same voice. That there’s just one snarky, ethereal guy, wandering the earth and whispering mean-spirited remarks into our ears. A disappointed, snide, and sarcastically amused spirit guide for cyclists, if you will.

Or Maybe It’s Not

Then, because I am an extremely intrepid journalistic type who always wants to get my facts straight, I conducted even more research, this time in the form of an instant message conversation with my brother-in-law/friend Rocky.

It turns out that Rocky has got a voice, too. But it’s a way different voice. His voice tells him, in a matter-of-fact way, to cut it out. “This is stupid. You are not getting paid for this. And this in not fun,” it says to him.

And when Rocky really dials it up, a completely new voice barges in. This one doesn’t even talk. It just belts out a primal yell.

I’m pretty sure my inner voice has never yellled. Maybe that’s why Rocky makes all the technical moves, and I clip out at the first sign of danger.

Final Report

Based on my exhaustive research, I make the following assertions about cyclists and inner voices:

• All cyclists hear voices when they ride hard.
• The type of voice you hear corresponds to the type of rider you are.
• None of the voices are friendly.
• We are therefore all either equally sane, or equally insane.

I am of course, interested to know what kind of voice you hear, what it says, and under what conditions.

Also, I’d like to know if mine is the only one that speaks with an outrageous French accent.

Then I’ll get on my bike and ride to work.

The truth is, at this moment I’d prefer to drive to work. It’s cold, dark, and raining outside, and it’d be nice to just say, “forget it, I’m driving” today.

But I’m going to ride, because I don’t have a Perfectly Good Excuse for not.

The Importance of Excuses

Really, I’m a little bit embarrassed that I don’t have a good excuse for not riding today. In the past, I’ve generally been able to come up with something that sounds pretty convincing whenever I needed it.

Why do I need an excuse at all? A couple reasons:

• Others: I’m noticing, as winter progresses, that an increasing number of people at work are asking me whether I biked in each day. (I’m beginning to suspect that an office pool has been started on when I’ll stop.) If I don’t ride in, I need to have a reason why I drove, or they’ll think I’ve given up. Somehow, if I give these people a good, compelling explanation of why I didn’t bike that day, I expect I’ll still get credit for being a cyclist. Now that I articulate that thought, I realize how completely boneheaded it is.
• Myself: More than convincing others that I’d be biking if — darn it! — I didn’t have this Perfectly Good Excuse I cooked up, I need to convince myself. This allows me to be a slacker without being a quitter.

The Anatomy of a Good Excuse

So, in order to avoid the dilemma I find myself today — riding into work when I feel more like hibernating than exercising — I need to replenish my stock of Perfectly Good Excuses.

This is not as easy as it seems, because an excuse is nothing but an excuse unless it meets the rigorous entrance criteria necessary to become a Perfectly Good Excuse. These are:

• It must be unique: An excuse that you have used within the past several days is no good. If you use the same excuse frequently or two days in a row, people will think you are just too lazy to fix the problem.
• It must seem to have caught you unawares: The excuse needs to be something that came out of left field. If you knew it was coming, you could have probably planned for it and found a way to ride in anyway.
• It must be convincing: The excuse must be good enough that the person you are using the excuse on agrees: he or she would also not ride into work under those circumstances.
• You must sorta-kinda even believe it yourself: This is the tough one. If you know that your excuse is an outright fabrication, you’re not going to have much luck making yourself believe it’s true. You need to have a component of truth (no matter how small) in your excuse.

Perfectly Good Excuses Under Consideration

In order to avoid finding myself in today’s dilemma — biking into work when I really just want to go back to bed — I am currently developing a new stockpile of Perfectly Good Excuses. They are:

• General Achiness / Approaching Illness: I don’t ever feel great first thing in the morning. In fact, if I went strictly by how I feel about the world in general when I first get up, I could probably make a case for calling in sick on any given day. The thing is, though, I know that this “blugh” feeling (a medical term) passes on its own within about five minutes, and I’m not very good at nursing it into a sense of impending illness. Plus, there’s the problem of my theory that when you feel sick, a ride is more likely to cure it than make it worse.
• Can’t Find My Helmet / Shoes: This is actually a really good one; there’s no way I’m going biking without my bike shoes or helmet. And with the forgetfulness that seems to be accompanying middle age, this is an easy one to pull off, too. It just takes a little planning. If I put my helmet or shoes down anywhere besides the space I have reserved for them in the garage, I will not be able to locate them the next time I want them.
• Broken Bike or Part: As long as you’ve got only one bike, this one’s bulletproof. It’s been a long time since I have had no serviceable bikes, though.
• Need My Car: This is a good one — if you’ve got to go pick someone up at the airport during the day, there’s nothing you can really do about it; you’ve got to drive in. The problem is, these excuses generally don’t coincide with days I don’t feel like biking. In fact, they seem to most often happen on days that a ride sounds really, really good.
• Rest Day to Avoid Overtraining: Oh, this is a fine one indeed. Not only does it give you a reason to skip riding that day, it carries an implied boast: “I skipped riding today because I am so fit it’s dangerous.” (Interesting note: did you know that “overtraining” is something that only very few pro-level athletes are even capable of? 99% of the people in the world couldn’t overtrain even if it was their fondest desire.)
• Weather: Since most people won’t ride their bikes if it even looks like it might rain, you can almost always use the weather as an excuse. The problem is, the weather is a slippery slope. If you use it as an excuse today when it’s drizzling, you’ll wind up using it tomorrow when it’s raining again. Soon, the season’s over, and all that’s happened is you’ve become an expert on rain. (It’s entirely possible I’m fixating on rain for some reason. I wonder what that reason could be.)

I love biking. I love mountain biking. I love road biking. I have a sneaking suspicion I’m going to love track racing.

I love getting ready for a big ride. I love the rhythm of riding on the road. I love picking a line on new singletrack. I love riding rocky jeep roads. I love the way I feel after a big workout.

I love the way bikes look. I love the way bikes sound. I love talking about bikes and telling biking stories, and I love hearing other cyclists’ stories.

To recap: I love biking. And yet, there is one inescapable truth about cycling that I do not love:

Practically everything about cycling stinks.

Jerseys

It’s easy to tell whether a person on a bike is a cyclist, or just a person who happens to own a bike. Just look at what he’s wearing. T-shirt? Person. Brightly-colored polyester skintight jersey with a zip-up front and pockets in the back? Cyclist.

The benefits of jerseys are many: they help you be seen by traffic. They give you a place to carry food and a phone. They evaporate sweat, so you don’t feel like you’re riding with a big ol’ soaked sponge for a shirt.

But that last bit — that bit about evaporating sweat — is a two-edged sword. Because while your jersey is doing a fantastic job of getting rid of the water part of the sweat, it’s doing an equally fantastic job of holding on to the stink part of the sweat. The fibers of biking jerseys are, in fact, specially designed to trap every little molecule of stench your upper body excretes, compound it by a factor of seven, and then time-release that smell for the next eon or so.

As a young, naïve cyclist, I used to think washing a jersey would get rid of that smell. It doesn’t. Washing it again doesn’t help, either. And in fact, if you wash the jersey too many times, you’ll just make the washing machine start to stink.

Special Note to everybody who is about to leave a comment describing how they use vinegar, lemon juice ammonia, or sulfuric acid to good effect in combating the “jersey stink” phenomenon: Feel free to go ahead and leave your comment, but please realize that I already know about your so-called remedy, and have the following observations to make:

• Your remedy actually only masks the smell, and an argument can be made that a stinky jersey with a hint of rancid lemon is even worse than plain ol’ stinky jersey.
• Even if your remedy does work, I don’t care. I’m barely organized enough to wash my jerseys at all. There’s no way I’m going to remember to start using time-consuming anti-stink potions every time I do the wash.

Helmet

My head starts sweating well before the rest of my body. And the straps and little pads in my helmet are nowhere near as easy to clean as my jersey. Back in arid Utah, this meant that within a few hours after a ride, my helmet straps would dry out, becoming stiff, crusty, and above all, stinky.

Here in Washington, though, the humidity keeps the straps from drying out so quickly. In fact, if you ride your bike more than twice a week, your helmet straps will never dry out. This means that instead of your straps becoming stiff, crusty, and stinky, they become dank, cold, and above all, stinky.

Interesting aside: You’d think that mildew would grow on constantly damp straps like this, but it doesn’t. My theory is that this is because the stench frightens the mildew monsters away.

Unlike jerseys, it’s possible to clean helmet straps and pads so they don’t stink. Unfortunately, to reap this benefit, you must in fact clean your helmet straps and pads. This is such a time-consuming, awkward process — which is immediately negated the next time you go out on a ride — that nobody in the history of cycling has done it more than once.

Glasses

I just found out about this recently, and admit I was astounded. Yes, my beloved Oakley Racing Jackets — the ones with the expensive frames and super-expensive prescription lenses — stink. I discovered this when my wife asked me to keep my glasses in the garage, because they smelled up our bedroom. Challenging her, I put the frames under my nose and inhaled deeply.

Wow. So I guess thousands of miles-worth of dripping sweat can permeate anything.

More, More, More

Really, I could go on. My messenger bag stinks, which is a problem since that’s what I use to carry my clean clothes to work. My biking shoes stink, which is probably the least surprising thing I’ve ever written. My biking shorts stink, which dogs seem to really appreciate. My Camelbak stinks, although — as near as I can tell — that stench hasn’t yet penetrated the bladder. This may, however, just be because Camelbak bladders have a stink (and taste) of their own.

So I have a theory: the main reason people don’t get into cycling is because they smell us before they ride with us.

Post-Ride Stench

The thing is, this residual stink — the smell that clings to all your cycling stuff — is only a tiny part of the problem. The only thing worse than the smell of a cyclist after a ride is a group of cyclists after a ride. Or at least, that’s what my wife tells me, and my kids won’t come near me when I get home from work ‘til after I clean up.

But you know what’s even worse than a group of cyclists after a ride? A group of cyclists after an epic ride, in a car, for an extended period of time. Why? Well, without getting too explicit, when one is on one’s bike for a long time, eating unusual food, one’s digestive system, well, reacts. And while most people have the most polite intentions in the world, at some point physics takes over.

And, in short, seven stinky guys with gas in a car for an extended period of time can reduce a vehicle’s resale value by 18%.

Danger of Becoming Desensitized

If you’re an avid cyclist, there’s a good chance you haven’t recently thought about the stink you make. This is not a good sign, because it means you have contracted Cycling Stench Desensitization Syndrome (CSDS). Here are common symptoms:

• You think your bike clothes don’t stink
• You keep any of your bike stuff in any place other than the garage
• You wonder why nobody ever wants to be near you

It’s entirely possible that CSDS is incurable, but the symptoms are treatable. You must simply realize that just because you don’t notice the smell doesn’t mean it’s not there. Every bike-related item you own must be isolated from everything else you own, and treated much the same as if it were radioactive waste.

Or at least, that’s what all of you have to do. My bike stuff smells just fine.

Another Note from Fatty: This post — and all the posts for the next few days — rescued from my old MSN Spaces Archive. Originally published a long time ago. When I lived in Washington.

Technically, I should never have ridden with Bob (no, not this Bob). I wasn’t even going in the same direction as he. We should have never crossed paths, much less ridden together.

Here’s what happened.

I was riding along 202 on my fixie—oh, how I love the Pista—planning to ride up to Snoqualmie Falls, then maybe continue on. Just see where the road takes me.

Then, as I went by Ames Lake Road, I looked to my left and saw another cyclist heading away.

“I know,” I thought to myself as I went by, “I’ll use him as a rabbit. It’ll be fun to catch someone while on my fixie.”

So I turned turned around, turned on to Ames Lake Road, and started cranking hard. It’s a twisty road, so I could no longer see him. I pushed hard, though, and before long could catch glimpses on the straightaway.

There was just one problem. Even though I was close to redline, I still wasn’t catching him. He was successfully holding me off, without even knowing I was there.

And then, fortune smiled on me. He pulled over to the side of the road.

“A flat,” I thought, and figured I’d offer him a tube or whatever he needed to get rolling again.

But no. As I got closer, I could see: he was just taking a call. So I nodded as I went by, trying to look casual. Then, as soon as I got past, I cranked it up again. Now I was the rabbit. I figured, though, that just as he had held me off, I should be able to hold him off.

I was not able to hold him off.

Conversational Tactics

“Is that a fixed gear bike?” Bob asked.

“Yes,” I said, proudly.

“You doing that for any reason?” Bob asked. This, of course, was a trick question. If I replied that I was doing it because I wanted to become a stronger rider with a smoother cadence, Bob would know that I was a serious rider, which would make his victory over me that much sweeter (for him, not for me).

“Nah, no reason,” I said. “I bought it because I wanted to try track racing, but it turns out that I just really love riding a fixed-gear bike. So I’m just cruising along.”

“Cool,” said Bob. “I’m doing a recovery ride today after a big sufferfest I did last weekend. Some friends and I did a 300-mile ride. Mind if I tool along with you?”

“Sounds great,” I said, backing my effort off ever-so-slightly, to prevent my heart from exploding.

We were on an empty country road, so we rode side-by-side. This meant conversation, and a chance for me to gain an oxygen advantage, by doing the following:

• Ask short questions that require long answers. “So, tell me about this big ride you did last weekend. Don’t leave out any details.”
• Parry questions back to the questioner. “Sure, I’m following the Giro whenever I get a moment, but I haven’t been able to track it for a few days. What’s been happening?”
• Play deaf. “You know, cars keep passing. Could you repeat everything you’ve said in the past 90 seconds?”

Riding Strategy

Since we had both identified that we were not going hard today, you would think that we wouldn’t have to go hard. However, the statement, “I’m taking it easy today” is really nothing more than a thinly-veiled offer to race. Here’s how I managed to stay with Bob:

• Half-wheel him. Drop behind just a little bit and catch a little draft, even though I’m technically riding beside him.
• Take advantage of quick dips. The nice thing about the ride we were on is that it rolls. Lots of quick ups and downs. A fixed gear bike is perfect for converting a quick downhill into a short blast of uphill power.
• When you’re about to blow, bow out. After about forty minutes of riding at what I would call a brutal pace and what he called a recover ride, I knew I was going to crack. I preferred this to be a private moment. So when we crossed highway 202 and he looked like he was going to go straight up to Issaquah-Fall City road, I turned right. “Good riding with you,” I said, and then really turned the cranks hard for 30 seconds as I went down highway 202.

And then, once I was sure he was out of sight, I felt free to softpedal the whole way home.

Click any of the images for a larger version.

The Results of the “Help Fatty Help Kellene Help Dallas Get a Kidney” Contest

First, let’s get to the nitty-gritty: how much did we raise, and who won stuff? Well, there were 1,116 individual donations, raising $31,354. As usual, Fat Cyclist readers exceeded my expectations. Thank you.

I have sent out email to all the winners. As they reply, I will update this blog with their names. Until they reply, I will just note they haven’t responded, and will instead indicate the general area where they live. They have now all responded; be sure to read their comments.

The winners are:

• Trek Madone: Lisa G of California has checked in and says, “I didn’t donate for the bikes. We lost my grandmother almost 8 years ago. She had been on dialysis for 5 years and I know how hard that can be on a person. She was strong, but chose not to have a kidney transplant because the doctors said her kidneys would just start creating cysts again. I’m glad Dallas will get another chance at a transplant and I only wish I could have given more.” She also says that she doesn’t really need a bike, and so she is going to give the Trek Madone to . . . Kellene. That is cool beyond belief, and I know for sure Kellene will ride it with pride. Thank you, Lisa!
• Diamondback Sortie Black: Brian B of Indiana has checked in and says, “My teenage son has Crohn’s disease, so I am familiar with chronic health issues. My thoughts and prayers go out to Dallas.”
• Lemond Fillmore: Richard P of Colorado has checked in. Richard has actually donated product (boomerangs!) for other giveaways I’ve done, so I’m excited to see that he’s won something. Richard says, “I would be honored to accept the bike and I will ride it with pride. I wish all the best for Dallas. Please say high to Kellene and Dallas.”
• Troll House Cookies: Anne C of Denmark says, “I am pleased to have been a part of raising money to help Kellene help Dallas get a new kidney. Please keep us posted on your blog on how he is doing. Thanks so much for the cookies. I am sure they will bring a lot of joy. I will share them with my colleagues, otherwise my coach is not going to be happy with me, being an athlete I have to watch my diet.”

A Note from Kellene

Thank you times 1116 from the Mortensens! How do we express enough gratitude to all of you for that kind of generosity? We will start here…

We are so appreciative to you all. Each one. We know times are difficult for each of you in some way. Even so you took the time to comment, to donate and to send well wishes our way. The donations will help off load an enormous burden that we are facing once again. The day to day medical crisis that continues will be that much lighter as we know we are not completely sinking financially. A huge relief.

We hope as you have read our story that you will think about organ donation. Living or deceased. Please make sure someone knows that you would like to give that 2nd gift of life. It is an amazing gift. Just last month here in Grand Junction, CO, a gift like that was given. A good friend of ours needed a heart transplant — a beautiful 19-year-old girl. Another family here in Grand Junction suffered the loss of their high school son. To help with their loss they gave his heart to our dear friend. He will now live on for many more years as he has saved her life. His choice to donate, in fact, helped over 100 other individuals with transplant needs.

As for Dallas’ immediate future, he’s scheduled to have a peritoneal catheter installed tomorrow, so he can begin peritoneal dialysis. This is good because the hemo dialysis has been giving him stroke-like symptoms and a resting heart rate of 111. Within a few weeks he should be able to go to work again. He’s excited for that.

We are now in the process of giving our son another chance of living free from dialysis and such difficult medical needs. I, along with my sister and brother-in-law begin the testing process for kidney donation next Tuesday. We will keep you posted as to our progress.

Again, thank you from the Mortensens. We hope that each of you will find peace, good health and happiness each day. Thanks for bringing each of those into our lives.

Sincerely,

Kellene, Rocky and Dallas Mortensen

A Note About This Contest From Fatty

This has been a very different contest from the ones I’ve usually run on this blog. Sure, on the surface, it’s similar: one or more bikes being raffled off for a good cause.

But this time they were used bikes — one of them extremely used.

And this time, the prize you win won’t necessarily fit you.

And this time, the contest has been for one person, instead of for a foundation — a person you probably hadn’t even heard of before I mentioned him here.

Honestly, I do not know how I have stumbled onto the most generous readership on the Internet. But I have, and I appreciate you.

Again, thank you for helping my sister’s family.

What’s Coming Up

I believe I may have mentioned recently that I am getting married soon. At this point in time, “soon” means “tomorrow.” And then The Runner and I will be heading off for a little vacation, and I have promised to not bring a computer with me.

Those of you who know me will know that this is not a small thing I have promised.

However, I have already posted stuff, which should magically appear daily without my intervention. They’re all posts I’ve rescued from my MSN Spaces Archive. Unless you’ve been reading me for all of the past five years, I’ll wager that at least some of them are new to you.

I swear, there are a couple of them I don’t remember writing.

In other words, while I won’t be around, posts will continue to appear each weekday. And I’ll be back with fresh stuff a week from tomorrow.

Also, time permitting, I will post a photo from the wedding tomorrow — probably between the wedding itself and the family lunch afterward.

In addition to being a beloved, award-winning Internet cycling celebrity blogger, I am quite humble. This, I believe, is (part of) why I am so vastly popular with — quite frankly — everyone.

And so I am — quite charmingly, I think you’ll agree — somewhat reticent to even point out that last night, for the third year in a row, I won the “Best Sports Blog” category in the 2010 Bloggies.

I am even more hesitant to note that I am the first person to ever win the Sports category three times, and don’t even get me started on whether anyone else has won it three consecutive years.

“Consecutive” is a fancy word for “in a row,” by the way. I’m happy to share this information, first because I have an awesome vocabulary, but also because I am a sharing person. Really, if there were a word that would best describe me, I’d say “unselfish and sharing” would be that word.

I think that when one wins a category three times, that blog — and really, the person who writes the blog — is given “Hall of Fame” status. But I haven’t really checked. Things like that aren’t important to me.

For the record — because I am scrupulously honest, as well as good-hearted and self-effacing — I took what I assume to be second place in the “Best Writing” and “Blog of the Year” categories, both behind Ree of The Pioneer Woman.

I let her win. She needs the traffic.

Everyone’s Acting All Weird

What I find really surprising is that everyone around me seems to have changed, literally overnight. Consider each of the following incidents, many of which have actually happened in much the way I hereby describe:

• My children still expect me to make their lunch for school. This morning when I got up, I expected that — as a show of respect for my increased celebritihood — my children would have made their own school lunches, or perhaps one of my people would have taken care of it for me. Strangely, neither of these things have happened. Even more strangely, I haven’t heard from “my people” at all. Where are they? Why haven’t they introduced themselves?
• The Runner still calls me “Fatty,” instead of “Hall-of-Famer.” I think she’s doing this to keep me grounded, but I think it’s pretty evident that I’m the most grounded person who has ever lived.
• When I went to the DMV to get my registration renewal today, the guy at the window totally acted like he didn’t recognize me. I of course knew better. He’s one of those people who likes to pretend that famous people are like everyone else. Whatever helps you sleep at night, buster.
• A complete stranger got all angry at me when I went straight to the front of the line at Wendy’s. Some people are so jealous of the perqs of fame. I’d ask other Sports Blog Hall of Famers for advice on how to handle this kind of situation…if there were any.
• People keep telling me I’ve changed. “Just two weeks ago, you were the most wonderful human being who has ever lived,” a number of people who read my blog have told me. “But now it is clear to me — by reading three minutes worth of text four days per week — that your personality has undergone a vast and fundamental change for the worse. You have become mean, egomaniacal, and very, very judgmental.” Which may in fact be true, but the truth is I’m a busy and important person, and people like me adhere to different standards. I’d apologize, but I feel I’m too important and busy to do so.

Perhaps weirdest of all, however, is the strange fact that in spite of my almost absurd number of accolades, I continue to make 3/4 minimum wage with this blog. Which is a shame, because — apart from the adoration from my public — I’m totally doing this for the money.

PS: Seriously, thanks to everyone who voted for me. That’s really really really nice of you.