A Note from Fatty: Today at 1pm ET / 10am PT, I’ll be hosting a live interview / Q&A with James Huang, the CyclingNews and Bike Radar technical editor / god of bicycle knowledge. You can watch the interview below, though I suggest clicking here to Spreecast, where you can join in the chat and ask James questions yourself.
I’ve been a fan of James for — well, I don’t know how long. Years and years.
But I do know why I’m a fan of James. It’s because I’ve found I can trust him. He writes the fairest, most honest, and comprehensive bike gear reviews I’ve ever seen. His knowledge of bike gear runs as deep as mine runs shallow, and yet he writes clearly and cleanly, so even a dope like me can understand what he’s saying.
So I’ve invited him over for a chat, to talk about what it’s like to be privy to what’s coming next in the bike industry, to be paid to see and ride stuff daily that the rest of us can only dream of.
And to find out how and why he chose his Twitter moniker, @angryasian.
Best of all, James has agreed to answer questions. So if you’ve been wondering about getting a new bike or upgrading the one you have or are wondering about some other gear-related thing, this will be your chance to ask one of the very most informed guys in the business.
Join me today at 1pm ET / 12noon CT / 11am MT / 10am PT, either right here, or over at SpreeCast.
More Awesome Prizes In Grand Slam 2
Guess what? We’re down to less than a week in the Grand Slam 2 for Zambia: This Time It’s Personal. We’ve raised more than $111,111. Which means we’ve got just under $14,000 to raise in just under a week.
Now, just to refresh your memory, there are already a ridiculous number of prizes that will be awarded once this contest ends, including:
That is, I believe you will agree, a lot of amazing prizes. I believe you will further agree that the cause is as worthy as there could be: you are making it possible to give someone the chance to thrive, instead of just survive. You are giving them a way to stay in school, to get a better job. You’re giving them the chance to see what they can do if they have the power of a bicycle.
And you do all that good — and have a shot at all these prizes — by donating at my Grand Slam 2 page. Even $5 gets you a shot at all the prizes, with your chances improving as you donate more.
Just in case you come from some bizarre universe where I haven’t given you enough incentive to make a donation, though, today I’m going to reveal three more fantastic prizes.
Two Tickets to All Events at Chris Horner’s Cascade Gran Fondo
I’m going to be honest here: I’ve never been to Chris Horner’s Cascade Gran Fondo. However, I have been to Bend, Oregon (for the Leadman Tri 250), and can promise you this: Bend is beautiful, and the riding there is top-notch.
So I have a feeling that the Cascade Gran Fondo is going to kick butt. How could it not?
And the cool thing is, the winner of this prize will get to bring someone along, and you’ll get to go to not just the Gran Fondo ride and expo, but to all three events, including the VIP dinner and the evening of stories.
Hey, if you win this one, promise me you’ll take lots of pictures and write up the event for this blog, K?
Honey Stinger Smorgasbord
I don’t really need to tell you about how much I love Honey Stinger products, do I? I mean, I love pretty much every single thing they make. Their waffles. Their gels. Their energy chews. Everything. So I’m feeling no small amount of envy for the person who wins this prize. You’re going to be pretty much set for the season with this amount of Honey Stinger goodness:
1 box of each flavor Organic Energy Gel: Honey Stinger Energy Gels are absolutely my endurance food of choice. I relied on them pretty much exclusively this year during the Leadville 100, the Leadman Tri 250, and the Breck Epic. They are — without question — my favorite gels of all time. And you’re going to get three boxes of them: Vanilla, Fruit Smoothie, and (my favorite) Acai & and Pomegranate
1 Honey Stinger Cycling Cap
1 Honey Stinger Trucker Hat
1 Honey Stinger Sticker Pack
Signed Ted King Jersey and Swag Bag
You are — alas — not pro cyclist Ted King. And I am not either (alas).
However, you can console yourself by winning a signed jersey from Ted King, along with a very cool swag bag of “I Am Not Ted King” gear, like this T-shirt and other assorted things, at Ted King’s discretion.
From what I understand, the first step in accepting that you are not Ted King is wearing a t-shirt that states as much.
So. Add these three cool new prizes to the 13 listed above, plus the two we’ve already given away, and that’s 18 prizes in this contest.
And the thing is, I’m still not done announcing all the prizes in the Grand Slam 2. Seriously, I’m not.
My point being, the number and awesomeness of the prizes, combined with the outstanding cause, combined with the fact that every dollar you donate during this fundraiser gets automatically matched, I’m going to assert that this is in fact the perfect storm of fundraisers.
There was just no way I could write something funny today. No way I could write about a ride. No way I could even talk about the Grand Slam 2 Fundraiser. Because like everyone I know, I’m too messed up — horrified, stunned, sad, angry, scared, dismayed, you name it — over the killings in Connecticut to think meaningfully about anything else.
So I’m going to write a little bit about this. And see if I can, by trying to order the jumble in my mind into sentences, make some sense.
Sick to My Stomach
I was driving to a company Christmas lunch and white elephant exchange when I found out about about what had happened. I called Lisa — who was out doing some Christmas shopping — and told her what I had heard.
Then we just took turns saying variations of “I can’t believe this,” and “Why would anyone do something so unspeakable?” The fact was — and is — there was simply no way we could understand or grasp something so unimaginably evil.
The rest of the day, this horrible thing kept coming to mind. I’d push it out — unable to understand, unable to help, physically ill at the realization there could be someone so perfectly vile as to kill. Over and over. Or — even worse, though I would never have imagined this to be possible — to kill children. People who were just starting to become their individual selves. Just starting to reveal who they were to their parents.
I kept thinking how much like my own children’s school this thing happened at. Then — like millions and millions of parents, I suspect — I felt a little wave of panic and wished my twins would get home soon.
What I Know and What I Don’t
The whole weekend I kept thinking about what this killing. I thought about the kids. The guns. The parents. The families. The killer. The loss. I knew that it was on my mind too much to not write about it when Monday arrived, but what do I have to say that’s worth saying?
I know enough about how people feel about guns and gun laws and the second amendment that I know I don’t want to talk about that. Yes, I know it needs talking about, but I’ll leave that to others; it’s too complex a topic — and too politically loaded — for someone like me to approach.
I know enough about mental illness to know this isn’t something I can really talk about with any authority either.
But I do know a little bit about loss. I’ve been through tragic loss — of a much different kind, but still: a tragic loss. And I have the sense that most people, at some point, at least get frighteningly close to someone who’s been through a terrible, incomprehensible loss.
Here are a few things I remember. Maybe some of them will help. Maybe some of them won’t. I’m just one person, and what helped me might not be much help at all to another.
I don’t presume that this will help anyone remotely involved in the Connecticut tragedy. But maybe it will be useful to you as you deal with others’ loss, or maybe loss of your own.
Or maybe it won’t help at all. I don’t know.
Coming Over
The night Susan died, one of my friends called, asking if I’d like him to come over. I said “no,” and I meant it honestly. I didn’t want to be with anyone. Didn’t want anyone to see me. Didn’t have the energy to see anyone.
Another one of my friends just came over. He didn’t ask. As it turns out, having a friend there amidst all the family was good. I don’t remember what we talked about or whether we talked at all, but it was really good to have him there.
So which is the right way? Both, I think. If you’re the kind of person who calls and asks, do. If you’re the kind of person who can just show up, do. Both are signs of solidarity.
Helping
Everyone’s impulse is to ask how they can help. I will tell you that I hated that question. It required me to do so much thinking and deciding. What do I need help with? Am I willing to admit that I need help with this? Is this a person who I trust to handle something I need done if I ask for that help, or will I just be exchanging the work of doing something for the work of managing the doing of that thing?
Does this person really want to help, or is this just an offer of condolence?
On the other hand, when a friend of mine — who manages a lawn care company — said, “I’m going to take care of your lawn for the rest of the summer, OK?” I was incredibly grateful.
I think there’s a lesson there. If you have an offer of help to make, try to make it concrete — what you’re going to do (in particular if it’s something you have expertise in). And make the offer as a statement, rather than as a question (“Do you need help with anything?”)
Also, remember that offers of help tend to come in a giant flood at first, and slow to a trickle within a week or a month or whatever. As your loved on goes from being overwhelmed with offers to simply being overwhelmed, a renewed offer of help a few weeks or months down the road might be more helpful than one right away.
Religion
This is one topic I almost decided to leave out, because it’s as potentially inflammatory as the guns and politics part of this discussion I’m trying to steer clear of.
Which is maybe ironic, because steering clear of religion is actually the piece of advice I have to give.
You may have good reason to ignore this piece of advice — if you’re strongly religious and you are absolutely certain that the person you’re comforting is also strongly religious, for one example. Or if the person you’re comforting has initiated talk of faith.
However, unless your confidence on the person’s feelings toward religion are absolute, you might want to steer clear. Your world view may not be their world view, and this isn’t the time to put them in the awkward position of deciding whether to smile and listen to something they find offensive.
Or — supposing the person you’re talking to is ostensibly even of the same religion as you — you don’t know whether the person might currently be feeling some serious anger or at least ambivalence toward your deity at the moment. Is this really a good moment to ask for a show of faith?
This may be a good time to — instead of assuring this person of the power of prayer and letting them know that you personally have plenty of faith — pray on their behalf and let it work its power without you telling them about it.
On the Bright Side
Maybe some people really do get cheered up when others try to find a silver lining to a tragedy. For myself, only my inability to yell at well-meaning people kept me from shouting, “Don’t try to tell me that this death came with perks.”
Eventually, many people — including me, I hope — can take something horrible and use it for a catalyst for good. But don’t presume that anything good comes bundled, no charge, with any tragedy.
Telling Your Own Stories
For me, it was helpful to hear people who had actually been through the same thing tell me “You’ll get through it; you’ll be OK.”
It was not helpful, on the other hand, when people simply knew of a similar tragedy, and thought they were showing solidarity or understanding by recounting it. I was already so distraught and angry and worried about the future that every time someone told me their story, I’d just hear that they knew someone who had endured something worse than I had, and had handled it better than I was.
Saying “I’m Sorry”
What makes a tragedy a tragedy — and not just a problem — is that it can’t just be fixed. There’s not much you can say that will make it better. And saying “I’m sorry” just doesn’t seem like it’s enough.
But you know what? I appreciated every single person who just said that. An acknowledgment that something terrible has happened along with an expression of sympathy.
It’s not much, which is part of the nature of tragedy and loss. No matter how badly you want to do enough, you just can’t do much to help.
But it’s something. And sometimes that has to be enough.
PS: My sister Jodi has a good piece today on what she’s thinking and doing after this attack. Read it here.
You’re going to have to excuse me for the tone — gushy — in today’s post. I simply cannot help myself and don’t intend to try. Cuz here’s the thing: I’m a total Rebecca Rusch Fanboy.
Every year for the past four years (including seeing her cross the finish line the year I crashed out) I’ve watched and been inspired by Reba’s incredible wins at the Leadville 100. Cheering her on as she flies down the Columbine road as I struggle up it.
And then, more recently, I’ve gotten to know her a little better, at Levi’s GranFondo this past summer. I really like the way Rebecca is willing to jump in and make a difference — whether it’s promoting women’s cycling with her Gold Rusch tour, helping raise money for good causes with my silly fundraisers, or spreading the word about World Bicycle Relief:
Racers like Rebecca — strong, smart, and community-minded — are exactly the kind of role models cycling needs.
So obviously, I was incredibly excited when Rebecca said she wanted to contribute a grand prize in my Grand Slam 2 for Zambia fundraiser, which she announced yesterday in our chat. You can watch that below, or over at SpreeCast. (Rebecca’s part of the interview starts at 38:00, though I highly recommend watching the entire thing.)
So now, let’s talk a little bit about what that prize is.
Rebecca’s Private Idaho
Rebecca’s Private Idaho (September 1, 2013) could maybe be best described as GranFondo meets gravel grinder. It’s 100 miles of timed — but not raced — beautiful backcountry riding. The purpose of this event will be to raise money for both World Bicycle Relief and the local IMBA chapter: Wood River Bicycle Coalition.
The course will be out-and-back, which means that no matter where you wind up in the pack, you’ll still see everyone on the ride (which is one of my favorite things about the Leadville 100).
The event is going to be awesomely supported, including, quite possibly, an on-course baked potato bar. Which could quite possibly be the most awesome aid station in the history of ever.
And while details are still being worked out on this, some riders will get the opportunity to take on the WBR challenge, where if they do the ride on a WBR Buffalo bike (the bombproof 45 pound singlespeed bikes World Bicycle relief distributes in Africa), you’ll get a special award. (I’d like to go on record as being the first person to accept this challenge, by the way.)
Since this will be the first year of the event, Rebecca wants to get it just right and will be keeping it small. It’ll be an invitation-only event, with just a few hundred of her best friends and VIP types (E.g., Tom Ritchey, Kristin Armstrong, Patrick Dempsey, Levi Leipheimer, The Specialized-Lululemon pro women’s road team, The Hammer, me) from the bicycle community.
In 2014, Rebecca will be scaling this event up and opening it to the public, but only a select few will get to say they were there when it all began.
Including — if you win this prize — you.
That’s right, as the newest Grand Slam 2 prize, Rebecca’s donating airfare, hotel and entry into the event.
So how do you enter? The same way you win all of the prizes in The Grand Slam for Zambia: by making a donation. Every $5 you donate gets you a chance, and any donation over $134 — the cost of getting a bicycle into the hands of a student in Africa and changing her life for the better forever — gets you bonus chances.
So if this — or if any of the prizes in the list — appeal to you, click here to make a donation now. Your money gets doubled, you’re making a huge difference in someone’s life, and you just might win an incredibly cool trip to go on an incredible ride set up by an incredible person.
What the Ride Looks Like
At a hundred miles and with 7000 feet of climbing, Rebecca’s Private Idaho is going to be a challenging ride. But the view is going to be so worth it. Here are a few pictures Rebecca captured while she was scouting out the course.
The Pioneer Mountains. The riders will see these peaks from the other side.
Trail Creek Road, heading out of town on course and into the mountains.
Copper Basin in the middle of the course.
Top of Trail Creek Summit.
Backside of Trail Creek Summit and dropping into Copper Basin.
Trail Creek Road on the return. This is the view of Sun Valley ski resort that will welcome you back to the finish.
This looks like an epic, beautiful day in the mountains. I’m stoked to try it out — and if you’re one of the drawing winners and choose this prize, I think you’ll love being able to say you were there right from the beginning of this amazing event.
Before I did the interview, I really wanted to give some good background on them. But thanks to finger and elbow surgery today, I’m not up to writing anything. In fact, I’m making the Hammer type this for me.
So instead, watch these videos. First, Rebecca Rusch:
We’ll be talking about how World Bicycle Relief works, why it is where it is, and what’s next. F.K. is one of the smartest, most genuine people I have ever met, and he’ll be happy to take your questions.
Next, we’ll talking with Rebecca Rusch, also known as The Queen of Pain. Rebecca is the four-time champ of The Leadville 100, an advocate for women’s cycling, an ambassador for World Bicycle Relief, a three-time 24-hour Solo Mountain Bike World Championships winner, and otherwise has an astonishing race resume.
I’m not even going to try to pretend I’m anything but a superfan when we talk, especially since we’ll also be talking about the latest and greatest Grand Slam for Zambia grand prize, which Rebecca will be donating.
So, to recap: Wednesday at 12:00noon ET / 9:00AM PT. Be here. (or at Spreecast)
talking with FK and Rebecca on Wednesday
One Last Awesome Note from Fatty Before I Begin Today’s Actual Post: It’s no surprise that Grand Slam 2 is loaded with prizes (and there are more to be announced, of course). But just for fun, when we hit the 1000 donations mark today, we went ahead and picked a random number between 1 and 1000 (which is to say, we didn’t take into account how much each donation was for, just that there was a donation) and gave that person a cool ZIPP disc wheel clock, like this one, being held by Ironman World Champion Mirinda Carfrae:
That prize went to Allison H, wife of extremely frequent commenter David H. And since I’m not the one drawing prizes, I don’t have to worry about choosing favorites or anything.
Oh, by the way: that’s not the only time we plan to do random drawings for cool prizes like this. So — whether you donate enough to buy a bike for a child in Zambia ($134) or the amount you’d spend on lunch or a coffee ($5 – $10), you may still win either a grand prize or a bonus prize. So go donate now.
We Don’t Suffer
Once in a while I think about all the rides I’ve done, and try to decide on which ride it was that I suffered the most.
Maybe it was when I raced the Kokopelli Trail solo, unsupported, injured and with a broken rear derailleur. That was some serious suffering.
Or maybe it was the first time I raced the Leadville 100. I didn’t know what I was up against. I didn’t know what I was doing. My knee hurt so bad I still remember the pain today. My nipples bled, for crying out loud (oh yes, quite literally crying out loud). And I was so very, very exhausted.
It’s also possible the time I suffered most was in the Summer of 2011 on a short anonymous training ride, where I turned myself inside out, giving it everything I had and quite possibly a little more — i.e., I gave 100.01%, thus defying mathematics — in my quest to give my all and hopefully get onto the Strava Top 20 for the Alpine Loop climb (American Fork side). My suffering paid off, too: I took the 18th spot, which would maybe mean more to you if you knew the guys in first through seventeenth place.
In each of these cases, though, I hurt. Bad. My legs ached — sometimes acutely, sometimes dully. Sometimes both. My lungs burned. My morale was incinerated in a fiery furnace of hot flaming burnination.
And in short, I suffered.
Except I didn’t.
Because it is my contention that, as cyclists, we do not suffer. At all. No matter how hard you’re riding, or how much you hurt. Or how dramatic the stories are that you (and by “you,” I mean “I”) tell yourself as a way to keep riding even though you are hurting and aren’t having fun anymore and are this close to giving up, getting off, and making the Phone Call of Shame.
Please. Allow me to explain.
One of These Things Is Not Like The Others
Here are some things that you might associate with suffering:
A compound fracture
Eating boiled okra
Imprisonment
Being tasered
Watching season two of Twin Peaks
Riding a bike really far or really hard
What’s different between the last item and the other items? Simple. You do not take the circumstances of the first three items upon yourself by choice.
My point being that suffering — true suffering – is something that is pressed upon you. Suffering is the act of putting up with something difficult — and probably painful — that you didn’t ask for.
Suffering is not the pain you feel when you are riding your bike.
You want to know what the correct word is for that pain you feel when you’re exerting yourself on your bike?
You do? Are you sure? You might not like it.
You still want to know? OK. Don’t say I didn’t warn you, though.
“Entertainment.”
See? I told you that you wouldn’t like it. But that’s what it is. That pain you’re experiencing is what you do for recreation. For fun. If you chose it and you can stop it whenever you want, you’ve got to admit: that pain you’re experiencing is your idea of a good time.
Congratulations. You’re officially a masochist.
The News Is Not All Bad
It would be easy to read up to this point and think that I’m trivializing what you (and I) experience on the bike by asserting that we don’t suffer.
But that’s not what I’m doing. At all.
Instead, I’m suggesting that you pivot your thinking a little bit the next time you find yourself having an argument with yourself about which hurts worse: your legs or lungs.
Instead of saying to yourself, “I’m suffering” — which is something you do passively, when a horrible circumstance is forced upon you — say to yourself, “This pain is mine.” Embrace it fully. After all, you created it and you decide how bad it’s going to hurt and how long it’s going to last. Why not own it?
Smile. Sure, clench your teeth or open your mouth as far as it will absolutely go or do whatever it is you do when you’re at your limit, but let your eyes at least still be smiling.
Because you’re not suffering. You’re not taking something someone else has put upon you. You’re hurting because you are willing to hurt to go that fast, or far, or high.
And those two things are worlds apart.
PS: For those of you who are about to suggest that if you’re watching season two of Twin Peaks, you’re bringing it upon yourself, I’d suggest that you’re dead wrong and anybody who actually watches that entire second season did so against their will and has in fact suffered mightily.
PPS: For those of you who watch The Sufferfest videos to train and furthermore claim citizenship of Sufferlandria, I have two things to say:
You are a special, wonderful kind of sick, and I congratulate you on your commitment to pain.
