My bike ride home last night was not my most favoritest ride ever. For one thing, I didn’t get away from work until it was completely dark. For another thing, it was raining. For another thing, there was a stiff, gusty wind.

I want to point out, though, that these things did not deter me. They did not frighten me. After all, I am a manly man, confident in my ability to ride a bike in whatever nature chooses to dish out.

And for a while, the ride was fun. I had a good rain jacket on, the wool socks kept my feet from getting too cold, and I had plenty of battery power for the ride home, even though this marked the first commute of the year where I had to have the lights on in both directions.

And then I hit the leaves.

No, We Are Not Having Fun Yet.

The wind had pretty much denuded the trees along E. Lake Sammamish Pkwy, and that is a road with a lot of trees. Cars had then effectively moved the leaves and pine needles onto the shoulders of the road, making an ultra-slick, six-inch-deep, five-mile-long, pile of wet leaves and pine needles.

I have a convenient and rather clever way of telling when I’m not having fun. When I start thinking about how I’m about to die and that the timing of my death is really poor because I’ve got cute kids and a good wife and a new job I actually like and — yes, I can admit it — a blog that is about as rewarding to write as anything I’ve ever written, well, that’s a pretty good indicator that I’m not having very much fun.

Riding through this was not fun.

The gusting crosswind coming off the lake that wanted to knock me into the car lane was also contributing to the not-fun-ness of yesterday’s ride home.

I decided that bikes are stupid and that I was going to drive to work the next day, if I happened to survive.

Envy

So this morning, I drove to work. As soon as I got onto the first arterial road, though, I could tell it was a mistake. The rain had eased to a drizzle. The leaves had mysteriously vanished from the road’s shoulder. And traffic was backed up for the entirety of the five mile stretch of E. Lake Sammamish Pkwy. I idled along, listening to NPR Morning Edition (note to Miers, Rove, Frist, Libby, Miller, and Delay: please try to speed things up; I’m losing interest here), never going faster than parking lot speeds.

Within the first mile, two bikes cruised by me, the riders talking with each other and enjoying the ride. I’ve never been so envious in my life. What was I doing in a car?

Another cyclist passed me. I checked out his bike. Junk. Then I realize: I’m a bike snob in a car, judging a bike on the road. I beat my head against the steering wheel to underscore my frustration.

Outside today, the just-rained smell is combined with the clean evergreen smell that comes with the good airing out of the entire state of Washington we had last night. It smells, in short, like heaven. If I had been on my bike, I would have enjoyed that smell the whole way to work today.

But I drove. And in a couple hours, I’ll drive home…nice and slow, I’m sure.

Not tomorrow, though. Tomorrow, I ride. No matter what.

Insult Fatty, Get Free Stuff

Here’s how you can win a cool Banjo Brothers seat bag in the inaugural "Free Stuff Wednesday" (which is today, just in case you can’t tell). Post a comment telling me what a dork I am for not biking to work today. I will, completely subjectively, pick my favorite comment and send that person a cool bag. Entries will be judged on whether I like them or not. Entries that use anything like foul language or vulgar implications will not only not win, but will be deleted without comment or explanation. In other words, show me how smart and mean you can be, not that you know a bunch of bad words. I’ll pick the winner tomorrow about this time and will announce the winner in my blog.

C’mon, show me what you got. And then go visit Banjo Brothers. They’ve got seriously cool gear to help you carry stuff on your bike — which means you can ride your car less. Which means you can envy other cyclists less, and be envied by car drivers more.

There, I brought it around full circle.

Today’s weight: I forgot to check. It’s been a day of massive discombobulation.

Jake and I have been on several of the same rides this year. We were both at the Leadville 100. We both rode the Zoo. We both did the Issaquah Alps. Until last Saturday, though, we hadn’t ridden together.

Saturday, Jake took me out on a cyclist’s tour of Seattle. I started from my house, arrived at our meet-up spot (a coffee shop, as is required by law in Seattle), and told him that since he knew the area much better than I do, he was in charge of the ride. "Wherever you like," I said. "I’m not fast, but I can ride pretty much all day without tiring."

Famous last words.

Control is Power

I’m about to say several nasty things about Jake, so I should problably make it clear up front: Jake took me on a great ride. You see, I usually head off into the country on my road rides, because it’s impossible for me to get lost if the road never turns. Jake, however, knows Seattle inside and out, and so we took off toward the ocean.

So now, after having lived in the area for 1.5 years, I can finally say that I’ve ridden my bike from my home (Sammamish) to the waterfront. We rode along bike trails at Elliot Bay, we rode by the stadium where fans were gathering for the Huskies / USC game, we rode on Mercer Island, we rode by Queen Anne, we rode through numerous parks, up and down short, steep windy hills.

And for the first twenty-five miles or so, I was fine. In fact, I can’t remember having such a nice ride in a long time. The weather was good, Jake’s a great guy to talk with, we ride at the same pace, and I was seeing stuff I hadn’t seen before.

Then, at about mile 25, we were headed along what I thought was going to be a nice, long, gentle downhill…when Jake took a right turn ahead of me and started climbing.

Man, I just wasn’t ready for that.

I’m no complainer, though, nosirree. I shifted down and started churning up, just wondering to myself, "aren’t we headed away from home now?"

Jake, meanwhile, happily spun along.

Then, a few minutes later, he did it again. And then again. He kept turning uphill whenever he could. "He’s messing with me," I thought, as I dropped into my granny and struggled to stay with him. But what could I do? This was his ride. And I had, after all, billed myself as the "Ride All Day, Never Get Tired" guy.

So I smiled, told Jake what a great ride it was (because it was in fact a great ride — it was me who wasn’t so great), and drafted behind him whenever I could.

Exploit the Advantage

This is not the first time the Home Court Advantage riding technique has been used against me, either. For some reason, knowing the course is an important part of how strong I’m going to be throughout the ride. 142 miles on desert doubletrack on a mountain bike over the course of 18 hours? Done it, and could do it again. Three hours on moderately hilly roads in Seattle, Washington? Totally wiped me out.

I’ve observed this effect on other people, too. In particular, I once took Rocky out mountain biking at my old favorite trail in Utah: Frank. He had ridden Frank before, and so knew what to expect; Rocky had no trouble at all staying with — or often, riding ahead of — me. When I switched things up on him, though, by turning onto a 4.3 mile brutal uphill climb called Squaw Peak (a long paved climb that leads to an exquisitely intense technical downhill), Rocky discombobulated. He hadn’t factored the Squaw climb in. I had used the bait-and-switch, combined with the Home Court Advantage, to soundly defeat a cyclist several notches my superior.

It’s a technique I plan to use again. Preferably, on Jake.

Today’s weight: 163.2

PS: I’m double-plus-happy to have the Banjo Brothers along as a sponsor of the Fat Cyclist. What does it mean to be a sponsor of the Fat Cyclist? Nobody seems to know, but we do know that it will involve me giving away a cool Banjo Brothers Seat Bag (you know, the tiny little pouch that fits under your bike seat) for each of the next few Wednesdays, at least.

PPS: Thanks for the Nalgene water bottle, Rocky. For the first time ever, I finally have a water bottle that tastes like nothing. Fits great in the bottle cage, too.

PPPS: Sometime yesterday afternoon, this blog crossed the 500,000 page view threshold. Huzzah!

Yesterday, I bought a ticket to Salt Lake City. So now there’s no backing out. I’m going to Fall Moab 2006 (or, if you’re one of the few people in the world who still thinks in terms of calendar years rather than fiscal, you can quaintly call it "Fall Moab 2005"). Fall Moab is an annual event where an increasingly large group (close to 20 this year, it looks like) of mountain biking buddies gets together and goes riding for three days in and around Moab, UT — the desert MTB capital of the universe.

This means I need to get a mountain bike, pronto. It means that I’m going to have to shave my legs again. It means I’m going to get banged up, and cut up: it happens to every single one of us, every single year. And it means I’m going to have more fun than I do at any other event of the year.

Most importantly, though, it means I need to brush up on my trash-talking skills.

Why is Trash Talking Important?

Know this: When a group of cyclists gets together for what they call a “friendly group ride,” they’re speaking in code. What they actually mean is, “We’re getting together to bare our teeth and snarl at each other for fifteen minutes, after which we will climb on our bikes and see who is the alpha cyclist — the dominant rider of the pack, the one who chooses the course, who picks the pace, who keeps the other wolves in line.”

You see, the group ride isn’t just a group riding together. It’s an important ritual, an essential component of which is the pre-ride (and sometimes, during-ride) trash talking. It’s during the pre-ride trash talking that you discover other riders’ intentions. Who is in contention? Who is weak? Who can be damaged psychologically before the ride, making them more susceptible to a bluff attack during the ride?

It’s a beautiful dance, really. And I’m sadly out of practice.

Techniques for Beginners

I’ve done some research into cyclist trash talking behavior, and have uncovered some patterns even novices can use to good effect.

• Feigned concern: “You’ve had a hard time keeping up lately. Are you OK? I can tell the group to go easy today if you want.” Or, “Man, that’s a pretty technical move; I don’t think I clean it more than six out of ten tries. You may want to skip it; you don’t want to get hurt.”
• Cloaked boast: “Dude, that is a seriously nice bike. Every time I ride with you, I can’t help but admire that thing. How much does that thing weigh, sixteen pounds? Sheesh, that’s light. I wonder how I manage to keep up with you, what with my bike weighing around twenty pounds, and my goiter acting up.”
• Anti-trash talk: “Could we go easy today? I just had a kidney removed, and am still a little sore. Plus, you guys look like you’re really strong — I’m not sure I can hang.” Important note: Do not use this technique unless you are certain that you can hang with the group, even if they ramp up into the red zone and stay there. If you miscalculate and your anti-trash talk turned out to be an accurate prediction of the day’s events, you will be known as a hangdog, whiney, weakling complainer.
• Question and followup: “So, how are you feeling today?” (Wait for response.) “Seriously, you feel good? Because you look like you’ve gained some weight. I’m sure that’s just because you’re wearing a padded jacket, though.” (Wait for response.) “Oh, really? No padding at all? Well, that’s weird.”
• Power play: “I look out at this group, and I see nothing that impresses me. Oh well, I guess I can treat this as a recovery day.” Important note: This is a risky technique. If you use this, be aware that anything apart from absolute domination will be perceived as failure.

Tips for Advanced Trash Talkers

There was a time when people used to remark that I was the meanest person they knew, once I actually started saying what I was thinking. In days of yore I have shut people down — so completely dumbfounded them with my trash talk that backing it up with performance on the bike seemed beside the point.

That, alas, was years ago. I am now so out of practice with advanced trash talking (I have young children who don’t exactly thrive on that kind of feedback), that I must rely primarily on other, more skilled trash talkers for these advanced techniques. Thanks (I guess) to Dug and Simeon, both of whom I no longer consider friends.

• Post Mortem Trash Talk: Simeon, the guy who I rode with for most of the Issaquah Alps randonneuring event — until he shot off the front and demolished me in the final hour — sent me this e-mail the day following the ride:

I realized some time after the ride that you were actually suffering from a cold or worse (the dripping nose gave it away), but it was still good to finish ahead of you.

In one elegant sentence, Simeon reminded me that he cleaned my clock, said I looked gross, and provided me with an excuse we both knew wasn’t true; the implied subtext of the “proffered excuse ploy” is: “What? You didn’t have a cold? Well, why were you so slow, then?” This kind of masterful post mortem trash talk instills fear in your opponent (and let’s be clear: everyone is your opponent). This fear will grow and fester until — and beyond — the next ride. I am now terrified of Simeon.

• Get Personal: If someone has a gut, use the gut to your advantage, even if man-with-gut is kicking your butt and dropping you. Ask probing questions: “Does your gut get in the way of your legs on the upstroke?” “Do you think you’d go faster if you lost some weight?” If your target does not respond, you can be confident both that he hears you and that you are being effective.
• Do Not Back Down: If your target appears to be sensitive, this is not the time to back off. Run up the score. This is a good time to get experimental. Try some techniques you’ve been keeping until they’re ready.
• Exploit Admitted Weaknesses: If your target acknowledges an actual, diagnosable problem that will slow him down, it’s time to lean in. For example, if he says, “Well, jeez, I just had a heart attack this afternoon and am taking beta blockers that slow me down quite a bit,” he has just made your job easier, not harder. Immediately respond by rolling your eyes and saying, "Oh, playing the heart attack card. Nice. You know, I have technically been a corpse for three months now. It’s never slowed me down.”
• Acknowledge: If your opponent comes up with something ridiculously good, you have to recognize. It’s a community effort. Immediately incorporate the learned technique into your own arsenal.

Today’s weight: 159.4