02.24.2014 | 12:18 pm
Oh hi there. I’m pleased to announce that I’m not dead. I’m just not writing blog posts very often right now, for the following reasons:
- I’ve got other stuff going on in my life that leaves me very little time or energy to write each day.
- Winter sucks for cyclists in Utah who don’t have fat bikes, and in spite of my very obvious hints, no cycling company has yet offered to set me up with a fatbike. Yes, a guy named Fatty who rides bikes and lives in Utah and has a popular and award-winning cycling blog has not been offered a fatbike to ride and write about. Which brings up the question: is there a single bike company in the world that has a marketing department that is even trying at all?
- I’ve written nine years’-worth of winter posts and am pretty sure I’ve told most of the jokes I have to tell on this matter. In recent days, I’ve had half a dozen blog post ideas. Each time I did some checking and discovered I’d already written that post. Frequently, twice.
- I’m hungry because I’m trying to get rid of the weight I’ve been putting on since mid-October. And when I’m hungry, I get cranky. I know, I know: that’s really hard to believe.
Luckily for me, I very frequently get unsolicited offers from people who would like to write guest posts. I’m very confident that each of these people really wants to write because they have a great story to tell, not because of SEO scam tactics.
Today, then, I am happy to relay some of these letters, which I shall answer publicly, because I’m sure these people really do read my blog and will see my answers right away.
10 Reasons I Am Excited for This Guest Post
Let’s begin with this proposal from Steve Laurel.
Hi,
My name is Steve and I was wondering if I could contribute an informative article to give you some more great content. Do you think your readers would be interested in reading a post about “10 reasons you should take up cycling”? The article is unique, informative only and well written. I’m asking for 1 or 2 links in bio section or at the end of the article. Thank You!
All the best,
Steve
Dear Steve,
I confess, I am extremely excited by your proposal, and must confess some astonishment. Where in the world did you come up with such a unique idea? An article listing ten reasons to start cycling? Wow! I just hope that when you write this post, you will cover some of the same ground as this one. And this one. And this one. And this one. And the many others that all say pretty much the same thing (E.g., it’s fun, it’s transportation, it’s exercise, it’s social, it’s good for the environment…but I’m sure your article will have completely new reasons).
Next, as a frequent visitor to my blog (which you no doubt are), you are probably aware that very few of of my readers ride bikes. To be honest, I haven’t ridden one myself since 2005, well before I started writing this blog. With that in mind, I feel that my readers and I could definitely use an article listing ten reasons we should take up cycling.
I’m glad that you took the time to point out that the article, in addition to being unique and well written (I probably would have put a dash between “well” and “written,” but whatever), it will be “informative only.” Had you not taken the time to point this out, I would have had grave concerns that it might have also been interesting or entertaining, or—horrors—both. This site, as you well know, is about being informative, and informative only.
Finally, I’m super excited to find out what the one or two links are you’ll want in the bio section at the end of the article. I’ll bet that my audience will love to click them!
I look forward to getting your article, and will post it as soon as I want. By the way, I reserve the right to edit it to whatever extent I might deem necessary. Don’t worry about that, though. I generally have a pretty light touch with the red pen.
Kind Regards,
The Fat Cyclist
Aalia Has So Many Good Ideas
Next up, I received the following letter from Aalia Anderson, who—I think we can all agree—probably always got to go first when kids at school had to line up alphabetically.
Hi,
I am Aalia Anderson a writer and a blogger.
Before anything else, I would like to commend your awesome site. The articles are well-written and very informative.
I have been following your blog for some time now & would be great if I get an opportunity to write for your website in your niche with quality content & 100% copyscape passed with a reference link to the related website.
I have a few topics in mind mentioned below:
- Things to check before buying a scooter seat covers
- How to make your bike seat cover at home
- How to recover an old bicycle seat
- How to Reupholster Your Bike Seat with Leather
Also, if you have a topic in mind, I can write an article on that topic.
I hope I’m not asking for too much :)
Thank you very much and I hope to hear from you soon.
Cheers!
Dear Aalia,
First of all, I’m concerned you may have sent this letter to me by accident. I go out of my way to ensure that my articles are anything but “very informative.” I’d go out of my way to ensure they’re not well-written, too, but that pretty much takes care of itself.
With that in mind, I have forwarded your email to Red Kite Prayer, since it contains actual information and is well-written.
That said, I appreciate your interest in writing and your willingness to share your upholstery skills with my readers and me. But while I think probably everyone in the world is in fact interested in reupholstering their bike seats with leather, I’d like to direct your skills in a slightly different direction. Would you consider writing an article on one of the following?
- How to reupholster your bike helmet with leather and chrome so it looks like you’re even more of a geek than you already do
- How to reupholster your entire bike with leather, including the rims, cranks, spokes, cassette, and chain.
- The care and maintenance of leather cycling jerseys
- Leather Socks: pros and cons
- Why you should replace your traditional bike shorts chamois with a leather one
Thank you for writing, and I’m looking forward to posting your very informative and well-written article.
Kind Regards,
The Fat Cyclist
How Could I Say No?
Finally, Ashley Louis sent me an article pitch that, frankly, I found too intriguing to turn down.
Hello,
I’m Ashley Louis from (congestionchargingguide.co.uk) I’m looking forward to do some guest posting on your site, where I could share some more information for your site (fatcyclist.com) which I found very informative and the theme of your site is very impressive which can help you built more Traffic to your site. I have been writing articles and publishing them as a guest post.
My guest post articles are unique and usually of about 400-500 words with high quality English and contents and would ask for one link to my website.
Let me know if you’re interested and give your suggestions on it. And feel free to shoot me a mail.
Regards
Ashley Louis.
Dear Ashley,
Thanks I give to for you as to the writing of most of your informative the letter you sent with to me as of days recent. I most like to think you are writing a post which are for the share to your most excellent and informative website and I am thinking if you were to write for me every day 400 – 500 words I could then have you to be my high-quality content and unique permanent guest posting writer. I think too much is not enough for you ask the contents and a link which readers my site of will find most useful and will bookmark and go to seven times or even thrice daily except twice on the end days of weeks!
I hope for the first article you am write will be on Congestion Charging in the London and its impatient practice important to cyclist in America. I think this exciting will to be read!
Kind for to be Regarded as,
Fat is to Cyclist the
Comments (58)
02.17.2014 | 8:28 am
This story is true. Before I say anything else, you must understand this very important fact. Which is to say, everything I will describe in today’s post actually happened. In fact, it actually happened last weekend.
The second thing you must accept as a crucial part of the premise of this story is this: I am a complete idiot. If you don’t take this second statement as given, you’ll never believe the first part.
Are we clear on both of these facts? Can we continue? Excellent.
Context
Saturday was the day we had been waiting for. A weekend day. Not snowy or rainy. Little wind. Mild temperature.
A good day, in short, for The Hammer and me to — for the first time in what felt like forever — go on a ride.
So, with me on my Tarmac and The Hammer on her Orbea, we rode the 23 miles to the Cedar Fort gas station, bought and shared a coke, and then started riding back.
On the return trip, we always take mile-long pulls, trading off at the mile-marker signposts. It’s a little tradition, one we both like.
“It’s so nice to be able to do this ride without the wind,” The Hammer shouted back during one of her pulls. And she was right.
Precipitating Event
As The Hammer came around for her third or fourth pull, I felt the way my rear wheel rolls change. You know the feeling: it becomes sloppy in the way it tracks, and you start feeling the road vibration much more strongly.
I had a flat rear tire.
“Oh well,” I said, not really terribly disappointed. Flats are easy to fix on road bikes. Meanwhile, it was a nice day out, and I didn’t mind taking a break from riding for five minutes or so.
So I unzipped my Banjo Brothers seat back and pulled out the spare tube I keep, wrapped up in an old cycling sock (to keep the tube from getting a hole rubbed into it). Then the CO2 threaded canister. And then the CO2 valve.
Except there was no CO2 valve.
Why wasn’t there a CO2 valve?
I sent my mind back — when was the last time I had gotten a flat, and why would I have replaced the tube and CO2 canister, but not put the CO2 valve back in the pack?
I couldn’t even remember. It didn’t matter anyway, not for the moment.
Luckily, The Hammer had a Banjo Brothers seat pack on her bike. “Can you get me the valve out of your seat pack?” I asked The Hammer. “I don’t have one in mine, though I don’t know why not.
“Sure,” The Hammer said, and unzipped her seat pack. Which contained a tube, a CO2 canister, and…nothing else.
Gah.
Plan B
So, for whatever forgotten reason, at some point in the past I apparently had raided both our seat packs at some point, taking the valves. Then, I had evidently forgotten to ever replace them.
Past-self, know this: I am pretty darn upset with your forgetfulness and irresponsibility.
So there we were, me with a flat and no way for us to fix it. The solution — a lousy solution, but there you are — was obvious.
“You go ahead and ride home (about fifteen miles from where we were),” I said. “I’ll walk my bike to the nearest gas station and buy myself an ice cream cone while I wait for you.”
“But what if I flat between here and there?” The Hammer asked. A good question, but with no good answer.
“Did you bring a phone?” I asked.
“No,” she answered.
“So take mine,” I said. “If you flat, you’ll need to call one of the kids to come pick you up.
“I’ll hurry back as fast as I can,” The Hammer said.
“That’s fine,” I said, not really unhappy. Walking’s not as fun as riding, but at least the day was nice. Things could have been a lot worse.
Plan C
I walked for about ten minutes, and then saw a guy riding toward me on the opposite side of the road. Riding a Canondale, wearing an Adobe kit.
Right then, I knew I wasn’t going to have to walk much farther.
As soon as the cyclist saw me, he veered off his line, cut across the four lanes of the road, and hollered the standard greeting cyclists on bikes yell to cyclists who are walking: “You need anything?”
“Do you have a CO2 valve?” I yelled back.
“Threaded,” he said, because by then he was stopped and swinging his leg over his bike.
“Perfect,” I said, and we talked for a few minutes while I changed my tube. As I worked, a couple more riders came by, each yelling the standard offer of assistance, and I thought to myself how great it is that this is somehow part of standard cyclist etiquette.
Before too long I was all set and Ryan and I each resumed our rides, heading in opposite directions.
The Problem With Plan C
As I rode back, I tried to picture how far ahead of me The Hammer might be. How long had I walked before Ryan rescued me? And how long had it taken me to get a new tube in once Ryan had shown up? A total of fifteen minutes, maybe? Possibly more?
I didn’t really know, but wasn’t worried. I figured I’d just ride the route The Hammer and I always ride, keeping an eye out for my truck.
But then I remembered.
The Hammer had said, “I’ll hurry back as fast as I can.”
And The Hammer is usually very literal. Which might mean, it now occurred to me, that when she came to get me, instead of retracing the less-trafficked route we take when we ride, she might drive the shortest route.
Because, of course, she wouldn’t be expecting me to be back on my bike.
Or would she?
Like me, The Hammer was bound to have noticed how many cyclists were there on the road that day, and she knows as well as I do that they often offer to help.
So she might guess that I might be back on my bike.
But that would be just a guess.
And she wouldn’t want to leave me sitting bored at a gas station for any longer than necessary.
And I didn’t have a phone to let her know what was going on.
“I’ll just have to hope she retraces the route we ride,” I thought, and kept going.
Missed Connection
When I was about half an hour from home, I started watching carefully for the truck, preparing to wave wildly when I saw it.
I did not see it. And as I got closer to home, I was more and more certain that I would not see it. That I would get home just about the time The Hammer got to the gas station where she expected me.
I got home and opened the garage door, hoping against hope that for some reason she had been delayed at home and was still there, thus bringing a ridiculously easy conclusion to this little farce.
Of course, the truck was gone.
So I went to call The Hammer. Except when she had left to pick me up, she had taken both her phone and mine with her.
So I tried the landline. Which failed to work. (Yes, really.)
And then one of the several teenagers living at our house wandered by, his phone in his hand (natch). “Give me your phone,” I said, curtly.
“Why?” He replied, suspiciously.
“Just give me the phone,” I said, the explanation for why I needed it almost ridiculously too complicated in my mind.
I called The Hammer.
“Hi Nigel,” The Hammer said, answering the phone.
“Nope, it’s me,” I replied.
“Elden? Did Nigel come and get you, then?”
“No, a rider stopped for me and I was able to get my bike fixed, and I rode home. I guess you must have gone a different way than we ride?”
“Yeah.”
“So,” I asked. “Where are you?”
“I’m just getting to the gas station now.”
Doofus
And that’s when I realized what you probably realized about twenty paragraphs ago: I could have stopped at a gas station along the way. Or any of the multitude of fast-food restaurants. Or just about anywhere, really. And I could have made a phone call, letting The Hammer know where I was and what I was doing.
But I didn’t. It didn’t even occur to me. I had given my phone to The Hammer and — magically — at that instant all other phones (including the one I probably could have borrowed from Ryan if I’d thought of it) had stopped existing.
And — in spite of the fact that we had seen probably 25 or 30 bikes on the road that day — it never occurred to me to say to The Hammer before she took off on her own, “Hey, on your way back, retrace the regular riding route…just in case someone stops and can loan me a CO2 adapter.”
And…finally…maybe it’s time I realize that owning a small pump that fits in a jersey pocket — not just relying on CO2 to fix flats — might not be a half-bad idea.
But I figure I’ll probably just wait ’til I’ve found myself stranded on the side of the road a few more times ’til I learn that lesson.
Yeah, that’s almost certainly what I’ll do.
Comments (52)
02.12.2014 | 10:47 am
As cyclists, we are missing a big opportunity. To identify it, turn around and look behind you.
Oh, that didn’t work at all.
OK, this time, just turn your head around, leaving your body where it was, Exorcist-style, and then look down.
If you are — as I assume you always are — wearing a cycling jersey, you’ll notice three pockets.
Three capacious pockets.
(Or if you’re wearing some styles of women’s jerseys, you may have been cheated into having only two pockets. This is not my fault, and I accept no responsibility for this inequity, but I do sympathize. [However, this is not the point of today’s post and I intend to ignore this unfairness from this point forward, though if you happen to have a petition demanding three pockets for women’s jerseys, I will gladly sign it.])
And yet, all too often, I see cyclists riding with only a few trivial items — or, worse, nothing at all — in these pockets.
This needs to stop.
People, you have pockets. You have a bike. It’s time to start carrying stuff — lots and lots of stuff — in those jersey pockets whenever you ride.
I shall provide examples, by way of suggestion, and encourage you to provide examples of your own in the comments.
Articles of Clothing
Sure, maybe you currently pack arm warmers, knee warmers, a vest, and even a windbreaker sometimes. But your jersey pockets can (and should) hold so much more. Imagine, for example, the indescribably delicious feeling of swapping out to a nice clean pair of shorts midway through a century ride? And perhaps a matching jersey? And socks? All of those will fit in your jersey pockets. With room enough, even, for cycling cap you can don, post-ride. And a poncho.
Why a poncho?
Carrying a poncho as you climb gives you the right to wear that poncho as you descend. And there is nothing quite so grand-looking as a cyclist descending while wearing a poncho. It looks as festive as it does gallant.
Plus, if you’re carrying a poncho in your jersey pocket and people ask you what you’re carrying, you get to say, “A poncho,” and you get to say it as enigmatically as you like.
Food
Of course you’re already carrying food in your jersey pocket. I know that. But the food you’re carrying is lacking, both in terms of quantity and variety. With the large pockets you have on your back, might I suggest:
- An eighth of a cheese wheel. Or, if you like, a quarter of a cheese wheel, split between your left and right jersey pockets. In which case I recommend carrying a few nice apples in your center jersey pocket. Nothing is quite so delicious as an apple slice with cheese. [Tip: Don’t forget to carry a knife to cut apple and cheese slices.]
- A loaf of fresh-baked bread. This is more for your riding companions than for yourself. As your fellow cyclists will (I promise) point out, there is nothing quite so wonderful — nor delightfully unexpected — as riding behind a cyclist that smells like a loaf of fresh-baked bread.
- A quart of applesauce. It goes down nearly as easily as a drink, with nearly the same caloric density as a gel. And wide-mouth bell jars mean you don’t have to squeeze to eat.
- A whole roast chicken. It’s impossible to overstate the importance of getting enough protein in a cyclist’s diet.
My personal favorite is to carry an eighth of a cheese wheel, a loaf of bread, and a roast chicken. When I ride, I eat like a king. A medieval king.
Weights
Are you training to be a better climber? Allow me to suggest riding with a ten-pound barbell in each jersey pocket.
[Tip: wrap the barbells in cotton or duct tape to soften the hard edges of the barbells pressing against your back.]
[Another Tip: Allow for some stretching of the jersey fabric.]
Tools and Supplies
You’re probably already carrying what you need to change a tire, and maybe make some emergency repairs on your bike.
But what if you need a half-dozen new spokes when riding? Or a new rear derailleur? Or what if you need to make some emergency welds to your frame? If you carry a full set of Park Wrenches, hydraulic cable and fluid, enough spokes to build a wheel from scratch, a replacement rear derailleur (and a front one while you’re at it), along with a complete new chain, you’ll find there are few field repairs you aren’t prepared for.
A puppy
The reason for carrying a puppy in your jersey pocket is simple: it will be incredibly adorable.
[Tip: Do not carry a full-grown small dog (like a Pug or Chihuahua) in your jersey pocket. For some reason, that’s just creepy.]
Comments (57)
02.10.2014 | 10:55 am
You’ll have to excuse me for being a little slow with posting today. See, I found this really good race writeup about this really great race, and I got caught up in it. You should check it out: Parts one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, and eleven.
Oh, did I forget to mention that this is a story I wrote? About last year’s Rockwell Relay? Silly me.
The thing is, though, that was probably the highlight of my racing career. My favorite installment of my favorite annual race.
Because The Rockwell Relay is an incredible adventure. Ask anyone who’s done it: it’s equal parts race, road trip, and experiment in interpersonal dynamics.
And you ought to come race it. This year. More to the point, you ought to sign up today. Cuz if you do, as team captain you’ll score an extremely awesome Fat Cyclist / Rockwell Relay jersey:
What Is The Rockwell Relay?
For those of you who don’t know what the Rockwell Relay is, allow me to encourage you to go read my race report (yes, all eleven installments). Or watch this beautiful video (see how many Team Fatty sitings you can identify) to see the kind of incredible terrain you’ll see.
But here’s the short version.
The Rockwell Relay is a 520-mile road bike relay race along the backroads from Moab, Utah to Saint George, Utah. Each team is made of four people, each of which takes turns racing specific segments of the course. Segment lengths vary, but are generally 40-50 miles long. The rider order stays the same throughout the race, and you take turns being the racer, the driver (unless you’ve got a dedicated driver), and the support crew (unless you’ve got a dedicated crew).
It’s intense. It’s fun. It’s brutally hard. It’s exciting.
It’s beautiful.
It is — completely honestly and truly — my very favorite cycling event.
So, clear your calendar for the weekend of June 13 – 14. I’ll grill you a bratwurst.
We’ll hang out, and then we’ll race.
It will be a weekend you never ever forget.
Sign Up Now
Because I love this event so much, I’ll be talking about it more in the next little while. And I’ll be encouraging you to sign up. Because I’d love to see as many Friends of Fatty do this race as possible.
And because I love this race so much, I’ve partnered up with the Rockwell Relay guys. If you sign a team up by the end of this month (February), the captain of your team will get a very nice Rockwell Relay / Fat Cyclist jersey, made by DNA Cycling. And these guys make very nice jerseys. Nice enough that the other three people on your team will want to get one too — and at only $60 / jersey, that’s about the best deal you’ll ever get on a DNA jersey.
So, sign up here. Now.
Oh, One More Thing
For the past three years in a row, Team Fatty — Kenny, Heather, The Hammer, and me — have won the coed division. We intend to win it again.
That said, our cumulative age this year will be 189 (that’s an average age of 47.25, and our youngest rider will be 45). And while a coed team can be three men and one woman, we always have — and always will — race in the true spirit of co-ededness: two women and two men. And we always have been — and always will be — a self-supported team.
So if you’re going to come after us, you may want to take those things into account as you build your team. You know, so you don’t blow us out of the water too badly.
See you in June!
Comments (28)
02.6.2014 | 10:36 am
The Armstrong Lie
is a documentary about Lance Armstrong. Unfortunately, Alex Gibney—the producer and/or director (I don’t know the difference and can’t be bothered to look it up) gave away the surprise revelation of the documentary right in the title: that Lance Armstrong lied. And probably continues to lie.
So the big question is, if you start making a documentary lionizing a guy and he turns out to have been lying to you (along with pretty much everyone else) and you try to salvage the documentary by flipping its thesis on its ear and adding a couple of interviews with the guy who was — and possibly is still –lying to you (along with, as I mentioned, pretty much everyone else) in the first place, do you have a compelling story to tell?
That is the question I’ll try to answer in this review.
But first—before we even begin talking about the documentary itself–there are some mysteries that need solving.
A Big Stack and a Big Rack
The Armstrong Lie comes out on DVD on February 11, but you can buy it and stream it on Amazon.com right now. Which is what I did.
And there were a couple of very strange things about the order page.
First of all, if you buy the DVD version, you apparently get a lot of DVDs:
Thirty discs? What could be on thirty discs? Every single foot of footage? The most-recent backup of Gibney’s hard drive? 29 additional copies of the movie for you to give to your friends? Promotional AOL membership discs from 1993?
Or — and it is my fervent hope that this is the case — perhaps discs 2-30 contain sixty hours of hilarious outtakes and bloopers. Because that would make for both a lot of entertaining viewing and a large enough coaster set for a pretty good-sized party.
Next comes the description of the video, which shows that someone wasn’t even trying when they were filling out this particular part of the form:
“Chronicles Armstrong’s attempt to win the 2009 Tour de France?” Really? That’s the description of this 2+hour movie you’re going with?
Spoiler alert: he doesn’t win, and that’s not really what this documentary is about.
Even weirder than that, though, is the cover of the DVD case. Sure, there’s the big image, where it looks like Lance is looking (in shock and dismay) at the text that shows that this video attended the Venice and Toronto film festivals.
But then there’s the shot of Lance on his bike:
I swear on my life that I did not Photoshop this. This is the actual shot on the actual DVD case image on Amazon. And it looks like Lance has a medium-sized gut and the largest man-boobs ever seen on a professional cyclist.
To wit, it looks like someone Photoshopped Armstrong’s head onto my body.
Justify Yourself
OK, now on with the review. Kind of.
When I told The Hammer we were going to watch this documentary so I could review it for my site, she—initially—seemed fine with the idea.
But then the documentary started, beginning with Armstrong talking, just moments after his Oprah interview. And The Hammer said, “I’m not that interested in watching him tell more lies. Is that all this is going to be?”
At which point I paused the movie and told her the premise of this documentary. That, basically, Gibney originally set out to make a documentary about Armstrong’s comeback in 2009. Then, when Armstrong’s falseness was revealed, Gibney instead combined his original footage with new interviews with Armstrong and people who had a part in his undoing: Betsy and Frankie Andreu, Coyle, Walsh, Hincapie, and others.
“Do we learn anything new in this documentary?” The Hammer asked.
I told her that I didn’t know for sure, but from what I had read, didn’t think so. What we’d do, I thought, was get a better sense of the people involved.
And so The Hammer sat down with me, watching, skeptically, while I watched and typed notes.
Then, after a while, she started playing Candy Crush on her phone, so she wouldn’t fall asleep.
Then, with about 45 minutes left in the documentary, she left to go do something else.
Because, when it comes down to it, this documentary doesn’t reveal much in the “whodunnit” sense (we already know all that), nor in the “why’d he do it?” sense (Tyler explained that part much, much better). The fact is, if there’s a single defining characteristic of Lance Armstrong, it’s self-discipline. He’s going to stay on-message; the only difference is that the message has changed, somewhat. We’re not going to get a Perry Mason moment from Lance.
And most everyone in the documentary is about the same. They have a point to drive home (Lance is a doper and a bully), and they’re going to drive that point home, come hell or high water. If you come looking for the pathos behind it—which is what I was looking for–you’ll need to look elsewhere.
The exception to this is Betsy Andreu: she comes across as both forceful and forthright. Her motivation feels real and complex: anger at betrayal, a desire to protect her husband, indignation at unfairness. And her time on the screen — more than anyone else’s — feels straightforward and unfiltered.
Salvage Attempt
The backstory to this documentary is pretty interesting: Gibney started a documentary intended to showcase Armstrong’s return to racing — then resurrected it as a movie about Lance’s career in deception.
The problem with the movie is that Gibney tries to have the movie do too many things. He seems to have been too much in love with all the race footage he captured during the 2009 Tour de France, and recaps almost the entirety of the race. Very little of which has much — if anything — to do with his new subject matter (doping and deception). As a result, a documentary that should have been about eighty minutes long — tops — comes in at 124 minutes.
Gibney tries to tie the huge amount of 2009 TdF race footage to a question: was Armstrong racing clean — as he insists he was — during this tour?
Here’s the problem with this question: the documentary doesn’t really give me much of a reason to care about the answer. You’ve got a guy who’s doped for his entire career and — until recently — gotten away with it. Now he says he raced clean when he came back in 2009. Why believe him?
And more importantly, why care? Either he was doping and got beat by another doper (the presumption I’m going with), or he wasn’t doping and got beat by a doper, which happens all the time and is in no way remarkable. Either way, this documentary doesn’t give me a compelling reason to care.
Summing up, The Armstrong Lie suffers from a similar problem Armstrong correctly observed about his interview with Oprah: for people who know about Lance already, it’s too little insight. For those who don’t, it’s too much detail. And for everyone, it’s too long.
And in truth, If I didn’t have an ulterior motive — writing this review — I wouldn’t have finished The Armstrong Lie.
Though I reserve the right to revise this opinion after watching all 30 of the DVDs that should be arriving at my home soon.
Comments (37)
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