Moustache Bars

Nice thing about an open-face stem like the Deda Murex is that I can easily swap out bars. I installed the Nitto wannabe. I didn't have a brake housing, so I thought I'd ride brakeless to the shop to buy one. It looked pretty hardcore with no brakes, no tape. Of course my wife is just too smart for her own good. She took one look at my bike as I was leaving and asked, "Where's your brakes?" I'm not really into the whole fixie brakeless scene- though I can handle it. Besides, this bike will eventually run geared with panniers. I'll enjoy its present incarnation while it lasts.

No Time for Frivolity

It is that time of year again. Friday I car pooled with my wife, rather than endure the driving rain. It has been quite some time since I've seen rain like that during a morning rush hour. At least I saved a trip to work. Yesterday I worked for the County, which required use of my car, so that was a non-issue. I sold an extra bike to a coworker yesterday- for a very fair price. We are down to six bikes. We plan to sell one of my wife's bikes as well, bringing us down to a total of five that need to move, rather than seven.

My moustaches arrived yesterday. I love Ben's Bike out of Milwaukee- they are excellent ebayers, and I highly recommend them. I might fool around with them today. With all my commuting as of late, I can hardly bring myself to take a recreational ride. Racing is finished, and just riding around seems almost pointless. At this point in the year, it is about transportation. My legs feel like wood after the 200+ miles ridden last week- all of it fixed gear. I would argue that it is more equivalent to 300 miles on a geared bike that coasts. My commute keeps my heart rate more in the fat-burning zone- not that I have much fat to begin with, but it is quite different than interval training that I try to keep up with during the race season. The irony is that I end up looking leaner and meaner well after April, when I could have really used it. Of course, this time of year I end up being like a diesel engine- all endurance with no top end. It is amazing how quickly anaerobic power can be lost, while overall fitness and conditioning can remain constant. But again, I have nowhere to ride. Maybe I can scare up some errands? I'm feeling the need for a purpose.

Today we plan to put a bunch of junk up for sale on ebay and craig's list. I'm bracing myself for the onslaught of Nigerians interested in my for local pick-up only household items.

Plotting and Scheming

The great debate continues. I sold my city/path bike to a coworker- one less bike to move. I never used that bike much. It was practically new. So I'm moving the rack to the Frankenbike. I'm contemplating panniers. Just dragging a six pack of beer to class the other night in a back pack was a bit of a, well, pain in the back.

Or, I'm comtemplating "touring shoes." My Duegi mountainbike shoes are walkable, but they are a little loud for polite company. I'm thinking maybe something a bit more discreet for trips to the store, errands, etc. Or, maybe I should by some hightop hiking boot-style mountain bike shoes. They would be a bit warmer in the winter. I wonder how waterproof they are.

Or, I should buy a less flashy, non-racing helmet. I currently have a Selev and Limar- neither of which I'd want locked to my bike. I should probably buy something less expensive for everyday errands. Of course in Europe, I'll look like a chicken-little even wearing a helmet.

If not a helmet, maybe I need better rain gear. Stavanger isn't the driest city on the planet. I plan to learn to love the rain. Rain isn't bad if I'm prepared. I am definitely not prepared for cold, winter rain- but hey, it is better than snow.

Finally, I need to figure out how to ship my bike so it is waiting for me when I arrive. 45 days is a long wait. I almost think it would be cheaper to buy a bike and sell it when my other bikes arrive. We experienced quite a debacle a year ago when a friend asked that we ship a baby jogger for her. The cost was outrageous through standard channels. We ended up using a shipping agent out of New Jersey.

The last thing I need right now is more stuff. Especially items that we'll fly with, rather than ship.

Overheard in New York

Overheard in New York

Maybe I'm the last person to discover this site, but it is quite amusing.

White People

I responded to a post on a bike forum where some bozo was ripping on Mexicans riding on the sidewalks. I mentioned that I ride on the road, and all sorts of white guys tell me to ride on the sidewalk.

Come to think of it, I've never been harrassed by a Black, Mexican, or Asian... only whites... and I am white. God I hate white people!

Long Week

Today's commute home was exhausting. It was mostly into the wind. I took a break and flipped the wheel so I could take it easy with the 16 tooth cog. Hopefully I can also ride tomorrow- weather permitting. This would be the first full week of commuting by bike. I'll have saved 200 miles on my car.

Last night I also biked to my Norwegian class. We actually have the summer off, but we still get together and mostly drink beer and converse in Norglish- that odd combination of speaking Norwegian until stumped by an unknown word. The class really brings a diverse and interesting group together- of people I otherwise wouldn't associate with. I'm one of the youngest students. We've been together for at least three years. Last night we met near Lake Nokomis. I followed the Parkway home in the dark- and it was very dark. This morning I noticed they had been working on the street lights. I really love riding at night. The city is so quiet, except for the frogs and crickets by the creek. My Niterider light system really does its job, and its name reminds me of the original Mad Max movie.

Today's training went very well. All the feedback was very positive. I don't proclaim any expert status, and it always worries me that I'll encounter some ringer with more initials after his name who knows more than I do. On the other hand, it sharpens my public speaking skills- the only way possible, and I actually enjoy the challenge of "being out there" and having to think on my feet. Today was a relatively small group. In a few weeks the show goes on the road and I train out of town. I think it is a package deal where some company pays $750 or $1000 or something like that for three hours. I wish all of my time were billable at that rate. All my down time that I put into developing this curriculum has really paid off- for the company at least. I have no idea what they will do with this after I leave.

Sometimes I Just Have to Laugh

I woke up dreading work today. I am giving a training where people are coming from outside the company to hear me speak. People are paying money to hear me ramble for three hours. It wasn't my idea- I was more or less drafted to be the expert. It just all seems so pretentious. I might feel differently if I received a cut from the revenue.

My ride in was wonderful. It helped clear my head and help me focus on my presentation. There was, however, one odd glitch to my commute. As I was on my brief stretch of West River Road between the parkway and the Ford Bridge, I was riding off the bumper of the car in front of me, signaling a left to catch the bridge. I could see in my geeky mirror that there was an SUV behind me. I had room, although he was crowding me. It didn't make much sense, since there was a car in front of me, and I was riding the speed of traffic. Anyway, I stopped, did a brief trackstand, and turned left. I was met with a loud honk. I turned around and asked, "What?" as he pulled over. He looked like an extra from Hee-Haw, and he sounded like Scooby Doo as he yelled, "Muhghrgh jurghrugh mughgerth!"

I said, "What?" again, to which he replied, "Where are your lights?" I couldn't believe it. It was getting close to 7, and there was plenty of light. Half the cars didn't have their lights on. Mine were still on, since it was dark when I left and it is a pain to turn them off while riding. I flipped the bike around to show him the flashing tail light and said, "You mean this light?"

At this point I noticed he had handicap plates- not that there is anything wrong with that. He then changed the topic and told me to ride on the sidewalk. I told him the speed limit was 10 mph, that it was posted on the trail behind him. I pointed. I asked him to turn around to read the sign. He refused to look, but managed to get in the last word, saying "I don't care," as he sped off.

Here is the thing about this type of situation: he did not threaten me or endanger me in any way. I didn't ride away wishing I had handled the situation any differently. I had no revenge fantasies. I didn't even bother memorizing his plates. It was more amusing than anything else. Next time something like this occurs, I am contemplating responding with a "Jeg kan bare snakke Norsk," or "Jeg kan ikke forsto deg"- just to see the reaction.

Later, I spotted a woman riding a fixed gear with chopped and flipped bars along the Shepard Road Trail. I don't see that everyday.

Proof There Is Something for Everyone

Handlebar Moustache FAQ

I stumbled upon this site searching for info on moustache bars for bikes. I am contemplating them for my frankenbike, but I am not convinced they aren't primarily for freaky bike geeks with bad backs. I have a tendency to learn everything the hard way.

Irreplaceable

I should be able to commute daily this week. Yesterday it really helped clear my head after work. All sorts of strange office politics have emerged since my announcement, and suddenly I appear to be irreplaceable. I wouldn't even want to follow in my own footsteps. I've never felt this important at work before. My leaving will mean a lot of extra work for several people, and it will probably take years for the owner to trust my replacement. Meanwhile, I have to fire an employee today and announce my leaving to all the program directors. Another fun day ahead of me...

Canadian Fishing Trip

We just returned from a trip to Lake Saganaga at the end of the Gunflint Trail. The trip was excellent. We stayed at a "resort" on a Canadian island about twenty minutes by boat from the public landing. The forest fires had mostly settled down by the time of our arrival. The accommodations were quite rustic- no electricity, except a few hours here and there from a generator. We had gas lights and a gas refrigerator, but no indoor toilets. I quickly learned it was better to water the trees or use the dock in the middle of the night rather than use the "outhouse." I had no complaints about the fishing- lake trout, walleye, and northern.

The lake was pristine. The water is drinkable far from shore, away from the duck and goose "droppings." The shoreline is completely undeveloped, except for the few cabins on the Canadian side. In rethinking it, I think all the cabins were actually on islands. The islands also appeared to be immune from forest fires.

I was amazed at how few people we encountered. It was certainly not like being at a "summer home" in the lakes region of Minnesota. We joined a couple of friends who are police from St. Paul. They have been vacationing at the lake many times. They introduced us to some of the locals summering there. Very few people live there all year, although I believe the folks who ran the "resort" lived there. The woman actually grew up there, and apparently took a boat or snowmobile to the landing, then had an hour and a half bus ride to school as a child. One couple we met worked at the research station on antarctica four months during our winter- the arctic summer. They had support jobs, since the researchers are usually only there a few days to a few weeks. They actually owned their own island in the lake, complete with a well-furnished cabin with a few guest cabins.

I don't know if there are some latent misanthropic tendencies in my psyche, but it was nice to be unreachable for a few days. I didn't mind skipping the showers, or having no cell phone- or any phones for that matter, no TV, no email, no internet, no cable, no radio, no vehicles except boats. People leave very small footprints in that environment. It was surprising how the place is maybe only five and a half hours outside the Twin Cities. It seemed quite close to be that "remote." We will definitely return.

Miscellaneous Updates

The CEO is out of town- which is usual for summer. Yesterday, her assistant left a group voice mail on the administrative team's voice mail that we are having our meeting today, but that I'll be leading it. That fact that I'm leading the meeting should definitely have been left out of the message. Today is the day that I'm announcing that I'll be leaving the company. Of course, now my peers are paranoid, since we never have the admin meeting without the CEO, and the CEO always runs the meeting. Several members the "team" were asking me what the meeting was about. My sense is they are suddenly concerned that I've risen to an elevated position of power in the company. My answer has been a light "if I told you what the meeting was about, we wouldn't need to have the meeting" sort of response. If they only knew... and they will. They will be so relieved that the status quo will not be upset that they won't have a single care about my departure, until they realize how that alone affects the status quo. It is probably better that way. At least with the passage of some time, I'm a lot less emotional about the matter.

Back to bikes- I'm leaning toward downtube shifters for the frankenbike. It occurred to me that I could use a clamp on shifter, and that since I have no cable bosses either, bar ends would also require clamp on cable guides. I really want to keep this one simple. Also, I tested a 130mm wheel in the frame, and I managed to squeeze it in. My newest crazy idea is to use an extra Ultegra 9-speed derailleur- probably in friction mode. This should be compatible with all wheels. Total cost of the project should drop to $20.

Weird Ebay Auctions

I rarely promote non-cycling websites, but this one is something else: Outrageous Ebay Auctions

Make sure you check out ARIEL SHARON-ISRAELI PRIME MINISTER-73 WAR HEAD BANDAGE
1973 WAR-AUTHENTIC HEAD BANDAGE!!! - and for only $10,000.

"Un-converting" a Fixed Gear

With the impending move to a more interesting terrain, I'm contemplating adding a rear deraileur to my rain fixie. Also, we found out that the import duty for my car alone, will run in excess of $10,000 US- so it looks like we are selling both cars before we move. Obviously, this will also save moving expenses. Without a car, I'm also thinking of tossing a rack on the old black bike, and turning it into a frankenbike commuter. I'll probably keep the 42 chain ring and avoid a front deraileur, and toss a thread-on 7-speed in the rear. I'm guessing bar end shifters would work the best, since this frame has no down tube braze-ons. Of course it will have lights for the eternal darkness that is known as winter. Overall, it should be a very ugly bike by the time I'm finished!

Writing My Own Obituary

I'm relocating abroad- in more than two months! As a courtesy to my employer, I spoke to my "supervisor"- the owner- last week to give her the "heads up." I didn't quote a date. I asked her to keep it quiet, since it is stressful enough dealing with everything without having to handle an interrogation from co-workers.

Earlier this week I informed a peer who will be greatly affected. Yesterday the owner called us into her office to discuss my exit strategy- to establish a plan for finding my replacement. I hated the conversation. I cannot imagine anyone else doing my job. I can hardly accept the reality that the company will function without me, although certainly it will. I really felt like I was at my own funeral.

Next week I'll announce at the admin meeting that I'm leaving. My wife suggested we hold a press conference- but accept no questions. I'm beginning to warm up to that idea.

New Route

I took a different route home. I took Otto to West Seventh to Montreal and then Ford Parkway to my usual route after the Ford Bridge. It is more direct than following the river as it dips south. It probably shaved off close to twenty minutes from my commute. Of course, Montreal is a huge hill, but that keeps things interesting. Also Ford Parkway is a bit crazy to bike during rush hour, but that also keeps me on my toes.

While waiting for a light near my home, I asked a guy on a scooter if it was electric. He said it was- that it didn't need any gas. I tapped my bike, and reminded him I didn't need gas either. It turned out he lived almost across the street from me. We had a conversation about the neighborhood and our home sale. He was an interesting character. As we were talking, a group of kids were going door to door selling something- presumably magazine subscriptions. I don't know why they always use kids- it seems rather exploitative. It is worse than telemarketing.

New Mirror

I must confess, Lise insisted on giving me a ride home after work yesterday. There was lightning. She was already at the office. I didn't offer much resistance. There will be no stories how I braved the elements in my man against nature quest to ride home.

While out and about buying a new hard drive last night, I picked up a "Take a Look" mirror. I'd always regarded mirrors as being completely geeky, but lately I have felt that I might as well use all the possible safety tools. At first, I couldn't really figure out how to adjust it, then it hit me. This thing is an engineering marvel! This morning I used it on my commute. It took a bit of tweaking, but now that I am more acclimated to it, I think I might find it useful. I still think it is geeky, but now I can literally watch my own back.

Computer Woes

I've been quiet since our computer became possessed. As it turned out, the hard drive was in a spot of bother. A few months ago, it could no longer find either network card (and still couldn't as of its demise). The cards were invisible to the computer. I ended up using a spare USB network connection, but I hated that inelegant solution out of principle. About a month ago, the computer could no longer find the Windows registration file. Microsoft saw fit to make sure the computer wouldn't even boot up if the file was corrupt, so I had to speak with someone in India to restore the license. Of course, when I call back to re-enter it, they will probably send the black helicopters after me- or worse yet, they won't authorize the installation. I didn't even want to mess with it, so I am on my 30-day "trial" while I work out any potential bugs.

Installing the new hard drive solved all my woes. The trouble is, I had a huge amount of digital audio software, and it will be a huge pain in the ass to reauthorize all the crazy copy protection schemes. I've already lost an expensive plug-in that used hard disk authorization. All the challenge and response protection seems to be hardware dependent. I will need to search for all the serial numbers, licenses, and dongles. It will take hours.

This isn't the first time this has happened. I had originally used a high performance IBM hard drive that later became notorious for "the click of death." This happened at the exact same time the motherboard gave out. I was extremely busy at the time, and didn't want to deal with the hassle, so I took it to the Geek Squad and asked them to check the mobo and HD, since I suspected both- the PC wouldn't even post (which it should do even if the HD was bad). They told me the HD was bad and charged my something like $60 just to tell me that. I doubt there is a PC problem that I can't fix, and while at times, time is money, I will never go back to Geek Squad or pay anyone else to touch my computer. Of course that time, my replacing the drive didn't fix the problem, since the mobo was still bad. I didn't want to replace the board if it was working. Anyway, since I was one of three people in the entire universe that bought into RAMBUS when it came out, I had to order a mobo from Taiwan through ebay if I still wanted to use my memory. I found a hell of a deal, but they sent it by donkey- it took forever to arrive. Oddly, they shipped it in the original retail box that they had turned inside out.

My fear when the PC couldn't find the network card in recent weeks was that the mobo had gone out again. The blue screens of death could have pointed to bad memory. I wouldn't even know where to find RAMBUS these days, so I'd probably need a new board and processor as well. Regardless, the HD solved everything, although I have a minimum of software reinstalled. Fortunately, all the data was backed up elsewhere.

Finding a hard drive was a bit of an annoyance. Best Buy had 100 gig drives on sale for $49, so I stopped at the store down the street. Of course they were all out, but they had a 120 gig drive for just $10 more- I assumed the usual bait and switch. When I arrived home, I realized that I must have been living in a cave, because this new drive was not a regular Ultra ATA drive, but rather a Serial ATA- that requires a completely different cable/mobo connection. I returned it and located what I needed at another store. I've given up on high end drives. In the end, they are all crap, and they don't make them like they used to.

Getting Home is Half the Fun

It is 3pm, the sky is darkening, and I hear the distant thunder. This should be a fun commute home. I should have ridden my rain bike.

Tuesday Commute

My PC conked out. I think I have another bad hard drive. I don't understand why these large capacity drives are so unreliable- this is the second bad drive I've tossed in. Anyway, I guess I have a project waiting for me when I return home. There is nothing like waiting hours while rebuilding a PC. How it relates to biking is this: I was unable to consult the weather before leaving. For starters, it was hot by 6:15. I didn't need a base layer like I did a few days last week when it was in the low 60s. The other issue was that a huge black leading front came it. Cars had their lights on all morning, and I was sure the sky would open at any second. This motivated me to push the pace a bit. There were more bikes than usual out and about, including a rare sight- a helmetless group ride of roadies. Two young deer also crossed Shepard Road right in front of me.

Digressing somewhat, when I was on Minnehaha Parkway near Cedar, I was literally watching my back for the Donut Man. Actually, his name is Tom. The amazing thing about the internet is some stranger emailed me and offered to run his plates. I had written down his plates the last time he buzzed me a few months ago and remember the plates from the current incident, and it was the same man. I know his name, wife's, name, their dates of birth, all the vehicles licensed to him, his address, his credit union name, the address of his rental property, I even know his house was assessed at $750,000. He lives near me, and we drove by his house Sunday evening. The tan 2003 Jeep SUV was parked in front. It is amazing how much information you can find about someone, with very little effort.

Dakota Criterium

I was not planning to race today. I decided Friday when I was riding home from work that I'd had it. I had a fitful sleep, or lack thereof on Friday night, with the realities of having sold our home sinking in. Saturday I worked my part-time job as a crisis social worker, and it was completely dead. Last night we wanted to take our minds off the move, so we watched Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, or whatever it is titled. It actually was a cool movie- especially since it is a remake of sorts (although it claims not to be).

Anyway, I woke up feeling ambivalent. I did not want to race. I thought it would be better just to take a long ride. I remember the race last year where few people turned up. As I went downstairs to swap out the racing wheels, my bike called out to me to be raced. I hurredly prepared, and my wife accompanied me to Rosemount.

Somehow the beautiful day turned into heat and wind. I quickly registered and warmed up. My legs were sore from my hammerhead commute on Friday when I took the long way home- including a bunch of hills that I probably shouldn't have ridden on my fixed. After maybe a half hour warm-up, I rode the course- which included a bunch of tricky turns that would surely blow the field apart. After a warm up lap, a few guys took off for another lap, and I followed. When I turned around, I noticed everyone was lining up for the start, so we cut through the course and I lined up in the back. Not a good place to start.

When the race started, one guy simply took off. A GP teammate held pace, and I could easily move up. I knew I didn't want to be at the end of the accordion when we hit the turns. The first lap was easy. The second was a bit rough, for some reason, and we split from the rest of the field. By the third lap, I realized my legs didn't have the snap to stay with the lead group. I knew I couldn't hold it, so I dropped off, rode alone for a lap as some stragglers caught up. We rode as a group of 6, behind the lead group. It was rather leisurely, like a fast club ride.

Our little group consisted of three other GP riders and two Silver Cycling guys- a total of six. One of the Silver guys tried to organize a rotating paceline, but pullling through was a bit iffy. At this point it was me, another GP guy, and the two Silver guys doing most the work. Eventually one Silver and one GP rider each faded, and we were now four. As we hit our final lap, it seemed no one wanted to work, so I took the wind for about half a lap. As soon as we approached the final series of turns, the big GP guy took off. I let the others fight it out with him.

As it turned out, I ended up 15th rather than 12th if I would have really contested it. No big deal. I had no regrets, especially considering my demeanor earlier in the day. I was worried that this would be a rather emotional race, considering that it will probably be the last I do in the Twin Cities. But it was a good time. It was nice to reconnect with some other teammates that I hadn't talked to in awhile, and nice to see Dan and Brian. It is strange how I see the same people almost weekly, in a sport largely ignored by the masses- and while I am only aware of a tiny corner of their lives, I feel like I almost know them. It is probably magnified by the amount of trust involved with racing, and the fact that it is something of a dangerous sport at times. I really hope that I can find this sense of community abroad. It is one of the things that I fear I will miss the most.

Afterward: When I returned home, I found my average heart rate was the same as Tuesday, and the average speed was the same. Tuesday was basically a time trial for me, as I rode solo after my chain issues. I guess we really weren't working that hard today... in the heat... and the wind.

Donut Man

Minnesota Plate: MNW162 (I might have the letter mixed up, but not the numbers) Light colored SUV, "Large build," mid to late 40s, reddish blonde hair, foul-mouthed, moustache, donut eater.

I often wonder what happens to school-yard bullies as they grow older. I originally wasn't going to post this, but I was buzzed again on Minnehaha Parkway near Cedar. The driver unkindly suggested that I ride on the sidewalk. He was quite a potty-mouth, considering his wife was with him. I caught up to him at Cedar and caught a good look at his face. I then noticed his vehicle parked at the bakery a few blocks further east. There were no other cars around at 6:30am. There was no mistaking his actions.

At this point, I realized it was the same man who buzzed me a few months ago. Last time he drove a green Ford- possibly a Taurus. He had the same M.O. He buzzed me a little further east on the same road, same time of day, and he stopped at the same bakery. I really do not want to play his dangerous game. I'm am quite sure the police won't do anything. Any response I do will only provoke him.

I think I'll start carrying my camera on all my commutes. I'll post a few pictures of him. What else can I do?

Sold Our House

We are moving to Norway in a few months. This isn't widely known around the office yet, but a few people- like my boss- already know. Anyway, our house went on the market yesterday, and before a sign even went up, we had four showings and two offers. We took the offer over our asking price. I'm sure it helps that our neighbors put their house on the market a day earlier, but were asking about 30% more. I hope everything else goes this smoothly.

I know this has nothing to do with our house, but I took this during the Cutty Sark fesitval last summer. I need a bit of inspiration. I think we'll fly, rather than take a tall ship. Although ironically, we may actually be using Mayflower Moving.

They'll Never Print It

The angry white male columnists at the Pioneer Press ran two successive anti-cycling pieces last week. Sansevere Soucheray

I sent a rebuttal to the "Letters to the Editor"- I doubt they'll ever see the light of day.

EDIT: I just received a call to confirm that I wrote the letter. Apparently it will see the light of day. Who knew? Since it can't be published anywhere else, I will link to it when it is in the paper.

For those that don't want to "subscribe," here are the reprints:

Posted on Tue, Jul. 26, 2005

Lance wannabes hog roads

BY BOB SANSEVERE

A few things: It is exciting that Lance Armstrong won his seventh straight Tour de France. It's especially exciting that he's retiring from cycling. Now maybe there will be fewer bicyclists crowding our streets and ignoring the rules of the road.

While it is massively impressive that Armstrong overcame cancer to win a record number of Tour de France titles, I hold him directly responsible for the surge in scofflaw bicyclists.

All those Tour de France victories ramped up interest in cycling, and I'm hoping now that he's retiring a lot of the law-breaking Lance wannabes will put their bikes up for sale on eBay.

There are plenty of law-abiding bicycle riders out there, and I have no gripe with them when they stop at stop signs and don't go pedaling through red lights.

The problem is, there are far too many SOBs (Spandex-Obsessed Bicyclists) who think they own whatever road they're on.

And it's not usually someone riding a Schwinn or Huffy. It's often the SOBs on their sleek Armstrongesque racing bikes.

Bob Sansevere can be reached at bsansevere@pioneerpress.com.

-AND-

Posted on Wed, Jul. 27, 2005

Armstrong's success creates red devils in yellow jerseys

JOE SOUCHERAY

As an experiment I have asked several bicycle riders if they can name any other top-flight cyclists besides Lance Armstrong. I am sure that serious fans of bicycle racing can name dozens of other riders, but I am talking about the average bicycle rider who puts on a rainbow-colored tight-fitting uniform and then races through the city streets pretending to be Lance Armstrong.

It is a rare occasion when one of this type actually stops next to you at a red light, but when they do, ask them.

"Can you name five top-flight cyclists besides Lance Armstrong?'' I asked a guy the other afternoon.

He swung his head to look at me. I was evil. I was burning gasoline.

"Bug off,'' he said, or words to that effect.

"Just one,'' I said. "I'll take one other name.''

This got me a gesture.

I can't do it, either. I vaguely remember the name Eddy Merckx, a five-time Tour de France winner from Belgium. I have no idea why that name rings any bells.

This phenomenon makes Lance Armstrong all the more remarkable. I hope he has a good agent. I cannot think of any other athlete in any other sport who has so single-handedly dominated the game.

The average person, by whom I mean the men and women who are racing about the city streets pretending they are Lance, can all name more than one professional basketball player. The same is true for baseball, football and even hockey after a year's absence. OK, hockey might be a stretch, but more people will be able to name two hockey players than two bicycle racers.

And as dominating as Tiger Woods is, the average person can name more than one golfer, and when it comes to tennis you get two names out of the same family, Venus and Serena.

The devotion or loyalty to Lance is so thorough that most bicycle riders now dress in a complete Tour de France cycling uniform. Imagine if the fans of Kevin Garnett wore complete basketball uniforms to play five on five at the playground. They wear jerseys, you say. Yes they do, but not the same shorts, socks, sweat bands, shoes and shoelaces.

Well, golfers dress like professionals. No, they don't. The average golfer doesn't wear a shirt covered in the logos of the Ford Motor Co. or a financial consulting firm. Besides, golfers are not playing on the city's streets.

I have no problem at all conceding that Lance Armstrong is the greatest athlete of my lifetime. Nobody wins seven straight anythings, much less seven straight grueling bicycle races through mountains and twisty village lanes, all the while putting up with French people.

The real test is what will happen now that Lance has retired at the age of 34. Next year the Tour de France will probably go back to six paragraphs on , or where it was before Lance came onto the scene, having beaten cancer and all other rivals.

But will the streets of St. Paul and Minneapolis quiet down? I doubt it. Driving will remain harrowing, what with the new pedestrian laws and the new law that will allow young people to use the streets on little mechanized scooters and, of course, the hordes of uniformed bicycle riders who ignore the traffic laws because they are in training to become the next Lance Armstrong and cannot be bothered with trivial matters such as red lights.

The honest bicycle riders out there — and, yes, there must be a few — will admit it. They think exactly the same thing when they are driving their SUVs. Lance Armstrong has created a monster of road-hogging hero worshippers. Look out.

Joe Soucheray can be reached at jsoucheray@pioneerpress.com.

I Don't Know You

Last night I was talking to a guy from Loon State who placed in Sunday's crit. I congratulated him on placing. We talked about the race, and he apologized if he yelled at me- which he didn't. Apparently some guy from my club was behaving badly. I have a pretty good idea who it was. I went on to describe how strange the GP "team" actually is- that I went to a few training rides last year and didn't recognize anyone from any races. This year, I recognized no one the first few races. The club is huge. Anyone can join. I can't ride anywhere without seeing someone wearing the team kit. I have no idea who these people are.

Tonight I took a fixed ride down the Hopkins loop. It was hot, and that was all I could handle. I had the 15t cog, and was riding like a hammerhead. As I followed Lake Harriet to my turn off, I heard someone yell, "Shit. Go, god damn it!" I turned and saw a "teammate" behaving badly. He had pulled to the right of a car that was turning right, and the car didn't want to hook him, as so often happens. It was irritating watching a cyclist berating a motorist that was only trying to drive carefully. It was more embarrassing realizing we wore matching jerseys. I had no idea who he was.

On a different note, there has been recent editorial content by two local columnists in the Pioneer Press that condemns cyclists as lycra-clad, Lance-wannabe, law-breaking scofflaws (pardon the redundancy). In thinking about this, it occurred to me that almost every motorist I encounter while driving on the freeway is "breaking the law." It seems speeding is epidemic (and I am no angel) and turn signals have become optional. Does that make every motorist a Jeff Gordan wannabe scofflaw? I know that isn't the most insightful rebuttal, but it pretty much goes to the heart of the arguments of our beloved social commentators/trolls backed by the power of the local press. I'd really expect no more from those misanthropes.

Rosemount- Week 4- Suffer fest

OK, it was a bit hot, but I was ready for it. What I wasn't ready for was my chain dropping twice on the first lap. This has never happened to me before.

Let me back up. I think it was Nestvold who took off like a maniac from the start. What does he think this is? A mountain bike race? Anyway, I dropped my chain, pulled off, fixed the chain, but the damage was already done. Then it happened again. I was so angry and frustrated that I refused to quit. I watched as others peeled off the back, fade, then leave the race. I was going to use this as a workout. I actually discovered that I may have some potential as a time trialist. I never was lapped, and I held a respectable average speed. My frustration has, however, raised my ambivalence about racing again Sunday.

HEAT!

It is forecast to be in the mid 90s this afternoon for the Rosemount Crit- at the treeless, shadeless driving course. My hayfever is driving me nuts, and I'm hoping for no respiratory issues during the race. Apparently last week I came in 14th out of 28- which is exactly the story of my racing life- right in the middle. I didn't know they counted us that deep. Maybe I'll work a bit harder tonight. I'm tempted to try something a bit crazy, like a suicidal break.

After tonight, there is one more race remaining this season- Sunday, again at Rosemount. At least this course isn't kicking my ass like last year. Oddly, I'm beginning to welcome the idea that racing will be over, and I can spend more time commuting and generally enjoying riding my bike. There is never a disappointment associated with my riding to work results.

State Crit Report

It is about time. Finally a decent race on what is probably the best crit of the season. Those Velo Bellas really know how to sponsor a race. Last year was miserable racing in pouring rain, and a teammate broke his collarbone in a nasty crash. This year the weather was perfect.

For a change, I actually rode to the race. Normally I baby my racing tires, but I really wanted a good workout, and I figured there was just as much risk of flatting during the race as riding to it. The race was held at the U of M campus, about ten miles from home. After a long wait to register, I pre-rode the course for a half hour. At this point, I had no regrets about riding to the race. Had I not, I would have been poorly warmed up. The course was in rather rough shape, with every manhole cover and bump clearly marked in fluorescent orange paint. This made me a bit nervous that it would cause riders to be a bit squirrelly in avoiding the "obstacles."

I had a good place to start, in the front row. As the race began, the first lap was a reasonable pace as everyone settled in, but then the pace quickly escalated. By the third lap, it was positively painful. Miraculously I hung on after a few guys were shelled, and the pace calmed down. This particular course had a nasty hairpin turn in it. I think four guys went down during this race. Somehow, the pack was able to avoid a mass pile-up. My goals for this race were not to crash, not to cause a crash, and to finish with the pack. I knew on a flat course, I had no hope of placing. I should also mention that this race was 40 minutes. Most Tuesday night crits are a half hour. Anyway, I met my goals- which was all I could ask for.

When I analyzed the heart rate data, I noticed something a bit bizarre: my average heart rate was 179 bpm while my max was only 186. Usually I push it into the 190s for the max. I also was amazed that I held a 179 average over 40 minutes. With the average and max so close, it also shows I really wasn't recovering very well. I'm not sure what this means, so I'll have to do a bit of research.

Anyway, I consider the day a success. Two more races and the season is done.

State Criterium- Tomorrow

Tomorrow looks like a ridiculously hot day for the crit at the U of M. Fortunately for us geezers on the wrong side of 30, we race first. Last year, that meant we raced in the driving rain, while everyone else had sunny weather. This year should bring good weather.

My expectations are rather low for this race. This is usually one of the most crash prone races of the season. The last two years brought riders down very near me. With the crazy hairpin turn they usually have, someone invariably ends up in the flowerbeds.

I rode maybe twenty miles last night, and I'm staying off my bike today. Even at the leisurely pace we rode the 80-some miles on Wednesday, my legs still don't have the snap that I like the day before a race. My heart rate hasn't been above 150 since Tuesday evening. I felt sluggish on Thursday and Friday, and today, while stuck indoors at work all day, I feel like a houseplant. After tomorrow, there are only two more races at Rosemount, and then the season is finished. I am actually looking forward to the end, so I can resume commuting and riding indiscriminately. I don't like this business of "pacing myself" so I have something left on race day- especially considering how little I actually do have left.

This year has been much better than last... and there is always my mantra, "there is always next year."

With Few Exceptions...

...the more enthusiastic about something, the more zealously evangelical, the more foaming-at-the-mouth religious, the less interested my wife usually is. The latest casualty to this phenomenon is the set of bullhorns I insisted on installing on her commuter/beater bike. Actually, it is less a matter of taste and more a matter of fit for her. Today her new Modolos arrived- as sweet of a set of ergonomic bars as there ever were. Trouble is, it is no quick feat to swap out bars- especially with an old-school Cinelli stem (that is not open face). Double especially since I'd routed the cables internally with the horns. Triple so in that I cannot reuse the bar tape. Quadruple in that the housings needed to be cut down. Tip: rather than donating a kidney to purchase a Park Tool cable cutter, the Dremel-wannabe works just fine. I think I'll wait to make sure everything is positioned well before I tape them up. I'm no longer swimming in extra rolls.

RAGBRAI Day Pass- Algona to Northwood

Several months ago, my parents told us that the ride was stopping overnight in their town of 2000 people. There would be an estimated 10,000 riders that would turn the small town into something of a tent city. The town had been on the route before, but never as an overnight stop. This was history in the making. We simply had to attend.

I've never ridden RAGBRAI before, but having lived in Iowa, I was familiar with the phenomenon, albeit as an outsider. I had all sorts of preconceived ideas about what it would be like. I was even somewhat ambivalent about the idea. We knew we didn't have the time for the entire week-long ride, so we opted for a day pass. I realize many people ride "unofficially," but since my parents were volunteers, and since we could, we applied for a day pass. The process was so complicated that I understood why some people poached the ride. Additionally, the week passes were full- so apparently they didn't want or need any additional money.

My wife and I drove down to stay with my parents, who live in Northwood, after the Rosemount crit. I had considered taking a fixed gear for RAGBRAI, but it was enough effort squeezing my racing bike and my wife's road bike into the back of the Toyota. I took along my regular wheels as well, since I didn't want to risk cutting up my racing tires. We unpacked and prepared for tomorrow's 6am departure for Algona.

We somehow left on time, despite the early hour, and drove to Algona. I was shocked to see acres and acres of huge windmills on a series of "wind farms." I had been almost 14 years since I'd really been anywhere in Iowa beyond the three mile corridor off I35 to my parents' house. They practically live on the border. As approached Algona, there appeared to be a long caravan of RVs, buses, and support vehicles headed the opposite direction to set up camps for the impending onslaught or riders later in the day. This also raised a bit of anxiety that we would be quite late to leave.

We actually were ready to ride the 82 mile leg shortly before 8am. The weather was quite cool- almost cold- and we had nothing but our summer gear. We easily found the route out of Algona, and started toward Titonka, the first stop. There were all kinds of bikes and cyclists- as far as the eye could see, stretched out across the ribbon of county blacktops and back roads. Many rode two or three abreast, rendering passing a lane-changing proposition. It felt like riding in a rush hour traffic snarl of bikes. Comfortable speeds seemed to range in the 16-18 mph range- without appearing crazed or frenetic. This did not appear to be a good place to try a rotating paceline to maintain a 20+ mph average with a group or racing buddies. In fact, even at its slower speeds, it felt more dangerous than the previous night's race.

We had a fun ride, soaking in the sights and ambience of the ride. As we crossed I35, I was a bit sad that our ride was so close to being finished. When we rolled into Northwood, I could barely recognize the town. Streets had been blocked off downtown for two stages and a huge "beer garden." The high school grounds, the fairgrounds, and the city park were converted into tent cities. Tents and RVs were parked on many yards. Porta-potties were everywhere. This was probably the most people that had ever been in town in its history. Food and beer were plentiful- and dirt cheap.

In the evening, the Governor's wife (apparently the governor couldn't make it) presented Bob Breedlove's family with a plaque and a proclamation honoring today as Bob Breedlove day, in recognition of his death a few months ago. It was very emotional for his family. I thought it was a bit creepy that all sorts of people were wearing orange T-shirts in his honor that read, "It's another day in paradise." Apparently, that was his favorite quote.

A few general observations: the average age of a RAGBRAI rider was much older than I'd imagined. I'd guess it was closer to 45, if not older. Also, there were riders from all over the country- Texas, California, Florida, Ohio, everywhere. Oddly, there seemed to be a bizarre crossover with stereotypic Sturgis, Harley-riding bike culture. While still clad in plenty of lycra, these weren't your effete, stuck-up elitist, road bikers. I also saw plenty of old road bikes, tandems, and what you would call a tandem for three, recumbents, recumbent tandems, mountain bikes, cruisers, and the most hardcore of all, in my opinion: the tourers that carried all their own gear without benefit of a support truck (or bus, or RV).

In all, it was a great time- something that should be experienced for at least a day, by anyone interested in crazy organized ride culture.


Titonka- The first town on the route


Woden- Another tiny village




Lake Mills


Me- (I ran into four other GP guys- that I didn't even know)


More Lake Mills


Northwood- A happening place for a night

Rosemount- Week Three

I had another good night at Rosemount. For whatever reasons, I struggled with this race series last year. I am beginning to believe it was all psychological, as the routes really haven't changed. This week, I wasted a lot of energy in the wind- and it was windy- chasing down a few little breaks, but I was able to recover without blowing up. Considering how little training I have been doing, I consider my finishes to be a great success.

Commute Map

I found a cool site that allows for plotting and saving routes using Google maps. Here is my "normal" commute route. I'd give a tip of the hat to the site, but apparently they are ironing out the bugs and it isn't fully functional, yet. Of course, today we car pooled. We are heading down to RAGBRAI after Rosemount.

Have Bolt Cutter, Will Travel

As we were walking down Lyndale to patronize Herkimer on Saturday night, a man who appeared a bit rough around the edges was riding his bike toward us on the sidewalk, carrying a bolt cutter with a three-foot handle and a "broken" bike lock. This thing looked like it was capable of cutting through anything. A carload of guys was parked nearby. He seemed to know them and he offered to sell them the cutter- actually said they would cut through anything. Granted the bike he was riding wasn't the greatest, but I was very curious what was going on. Frankly, the cutter was probably worth more than the bike. If he stole the bike, why was he carrying the cut cable lock- much less the cutter? Perhaps he merely lost his key? The appearance of impropriety was overwhelming, and if he had lost his key, this guy had absolutely no shame.

Anyway, it was an oddly disturbing sight. Suddenly none of the bikes with cable locks appeared safe.

Wet Saturday

Last night I overhauled the front brake on my rain bike. The middle portion was flopping around, and it wouldn't disengage- so it would rub on the wheel after each time it was used. The Park Tool website walked me through it- again. Their site is truly an internet treasure.

I considered watching a bit of the TdF at a local theater, but it was a time trial- not exactly the most exciting thing to watch. Rather, my wife and I planned an early ride. We finally started at nine, since I'm always fiddling with something last minute. We rode around the lakes and picked up the Greenway, headed east to the trail by the LRT, followed the LRT to the river, headed toward downtown and pickup up the commuter line. The sky was very cloudy, and we debated whether to toss in the Hopkins loop. She said it looked like one of those days when it would be cloudy all day, but never rain. We went for it.

We stopped by a ball field to take a brief break. It looked like rain was imminent. My wife believed we were past the point of no return, that we were better off continuing the loop- rather than turning back. We finally reached the Greenway, or whatever that leg of the trail is called by the Supervalue warehouse, and headed east. As we rode, it became darker and darker, especially in the north. As we approached Calhoun, it was dark as night. Streetlights came on. We could smell rain, and then we felt the drops. We cut through the lot to follow Calhoun, and the sky opened, releasing pouring rain. We took off to the south side of the lake, and then cut around to pick up Xerxes. We were completely soaked, could barely see a thing, and were essentially running without brakes (no big deal for me riding fixed, but my wife had her road bike).

We finally made it home and watched a bit of the weather on TV after we showered. You'd have thought it was the storm of the century, judging by the coverage. It was just a summer thunderstorm. Later I went down to clean the bikes. It was a quick task, since the rain had largely cleaned both of them.

I think it was the most rain I'd ever ridden in. It was actually rather fun. Then again, we were only riding home. My shoes will probably stay wet for a week!

Mixing It Up

On the commute home, I decided to explore yet another alternative route. I took Randolf from Sheppard Road. I quickly learned it went uphill after 35E. I turned north on Lexington to catch Summit and took Mississippi Blvd to the Marshall Bridge. I considered following the river all the way through downtown to pick up the commuter trail near the homeless shelters, but I'd had enough hills for one day. Marshall turns into Lake, and I swear motorists have never seen a bike before on Lake Street. I caught Minnehaha to swing over the the Greenway at Hiawatha. I had planned to take Bryant home, but they just repaved it, and it was a pea gravel pit- so I followed the lakes home. At this point my cell phoned started ringing like crazy and I had a bunch of work issues to sort out. It was too late on a Friday for this sort of drama. Unbelievably, this route through civilization probably only took ten more minutes than the boondocks route I usually take. My Polar told me there was an additional hundred feet of elevation gain, which is odd, since it seemed like much more.

TGIF

I woke up before the alarm this morning- 5:15. I was in an inexplicably sour mood, and my day had not even begun. I checked the weather online. Last night the forecast was for scattered showers this morning. As I refreshed the web page, the forecast for rain was magically transformed into a "partly cloudy" forecast. My excuse to drive was suddenly shattered, and I reluctantly trudged into action. Compounding my ennui was the fact that it is noticeably darker in the morning.

Anyway, I saddled up and took off. The roads were very quiet- almost deserted. I was feeling like my commute was very desolate- certainly not like taking the freeway during peak rush hour traffic. As I silently approached the Ford factory, I noticed a doe and two young deer hanging out on the factory lawn. While this was across the street from the Mississippi River, it was an odd juxtaposition, considering what a sprawling industrial antithesis to nature lay beyond the factory fence. Seeing them completely changed my mood.

The rest of the commute seemed to change with my mood. Two older guys who looked like white-haired mafia dons were walking along the path, and both waved at me. I saw more bikes out than I've ever seen during a morning commute, and most smiled and waved at me. The same guy that I always see drinking a Pepsi and reading the paper on a picnic table by the river was positioned as usual. Finally, my one-eared rabbit friend was in his usual spot by Highway 61. I even caught all greens to effortlessly cross I94. This should be a great day.

Motorpacing

Yesterday I had a nice post-work ride on my geared bike. I rode downtown, followed the river to Crosby Farms, and back home along the lakes- almost 40 miles. I tried out my rarely used 11-21 cog, and was quickly reminded why this sits in my parts cabinet. The gearing is way too steep. At the time of purchase, I wanted a 16 tooth in the cassette- but at what cost? My lowest gear becomes 39X21 rather than 39X25 on my climbing wheels, or 39X23 on my crit wheels. Of course I've never actually used the lowest gear in a crit, but a 25 is nice on something like Ramsey hill after a long ride. The other issue is that the other two cassettes are Dura Ace, while the 11-21 is an SRAM. I didn't figure I'd need to save any weight with gearing that steep, but it isn't as quiet as the DA.

When I caught the road around Lake Calhoun, I caught the draft of some couple in a Toyota. I know it probably isn't the smartest thing in the world to draft cars, but it was nice picking up a free ride at 25-30 mph against the wind. When we stopped at the light between Calhoun and Harriet, he rolled down the window and asked me if 25mph was OK. He obviously recognized the effects of drafting. I said it was fine- and coincidentally, it was the speed limit. I followed him to my turn-off and he waved good-bye. It is rare to experience such a symbiotic relationship with motorists.

I don't normally condone drafting cars, since they can stop more quickly than a bike, but this guy apparently recognized what was going on.

Rosemount Crit- Week 2

Today started out a bit strangely. For all the chest-beating bravado at the fixed gear forum about "riding drunk," I found out that a guy I work with broke his neck last night when he crashed his bike. To be fair, later information revealed the accident involved no other vehicles, and he had no spinal cord injuries. When a co-worker phoned him in the hospital, he actually answered the phone. It was an ugly start to my day.

I had packed my bike. I hadn't felt great yesterday, and actually painted the door trim on the garage rather than bike. My plan was to see how I felt after work. I actually managed to put the thoughts of the accident out of my head, and I was feeling decent enough to race. I headed down to Rosemount with low expectations. My only hope was that they staked out an "easy" course with no crazy corners in it.

It was in the 80s and windy when I arrived. They set up a very fast course with a long straight to the finish- with the wind. We had a field close to 30. The race started with the usual "I don't want to pull already" first lap. Everybody settled in, and the pace took off. All attacks were quickly shut down, unlike last week. I stayed out of the wind, and explored different positioning. My legs were good, and I wasn't feeling like my eyes were bleeding during any accelerations. I love racing when I feel like I still have some headroom- that I'm not racing at the edge of my abilities. Gradually a few guys were shaken off the back, especially during the prime laps. We had the usual slow final lap until all hell broke lose, and everyone fought for positioning through the final turns into the straightaway finish. I was blocked, and the sprint was already on. Another finish with the pack, but the way this season has been, I can't complain.

I hung around to watch the next races, the open 35+ and the 3,4,5. I timed their laps, which were slower than ours. Theirs appeared to be a more tactical race, and I almost regretted not doing two races. A teammate that raced with me said he began the second race. He said it was slower, but he only lasted three laps. I didn't ask why. Maybe next week I'll subject myself to the abuse.

Retro Rider

I took an early Sunday recovery ride- not that I'm recovering from anything substantial, but it was already hot, and I wanted to keep some legs for Rosemount Tuesday. I took the Prologue out with the 16 tooth cog. This pretty much limited me to a high cadence and low speed- virtually eliminating any possibility of me becoming a hammerhead. I was uninspired, so I took the Greenway to the trail along the LRT. I encountered a misplaced pair of road bikers who had no idea what routes went where, so I lead them on a little loop along the river, then back to the entrance of the Cedar Lake Trail in downtown.

Riding a bit further, I encountered an older man, probably in his 70s, in great shape, on a very vintage touring bike. He commented on my bike and we struck up a conversation where he recounted bicycling all over europe with his sons last year. He was very interesting, and it was refreshing to encounter another end of the biking spectrum. Ponce De Leon had it completely wrong: cycling brings us to the Fountain of Youth.

RAGBRAI

This year, my parents are actually involved in RAGBRAI. It stops, as in camps out, in my hometown. This is a first. Other years it has passed through, but this year it stops overnight. Since the town is three miles from the Minnesota border and it rarely camps out in a town this small, my guess is it will never occur again. This, of course, means my wife and I must ride.

I have a real ambivalence about RAGBRAI. I've always believed it was more of a party on wheels than about biking, but I've already shed much of my purist roots, and am willing to approach this with an open mind. Something about sharing the road with 10,000 other riders makes me somewhat apprehensive. I should probably mention that we are only riding one day. I've taken far too much time off to take an entire week. I'm also too misanthropic to enjoy spending a week in such close quarters with thousands of other riders. I had the misfortune of racing in the Firehouse 50 a few years ago- a mass start race with about a thousand racers. I've also ridden the Lakeville Ironman a few times, which draws maybe 3000 riders. At times, it was worse than riding in heavy traffic. I can't imagine the scale as it approaches 10,000 people.

Last time RAGBRAI passed through town, one of the big wigs from the Register sampled my mother's pecan pie, and wrote an article insisting it was the best pie of the entire ride. People from all over the country wrote to ask for her secret recipe. She was inexplicably left out as an official pie baker this year- probably due to small-town politics. Also, the town has only about 2000 residents. RAGBRAI apparently requires about 2500 volunteers- so everyone is involved. Already they have enlisted help from law enforcement from all over the area. Somehow, "Barney" and his lone sidekick won't be able to provide campground security for thousands of riders.

I'm seriously contemplating riding the 85 miles fixed. I don't even want to worry about my Look. Our day of riding is the day after a local crit, and a few days before the State Championship Criterium. I'll want to take it a bit easy anyway.

All Day Training

It is a beautiful day today... perfect for a commute- if I didn't have an all-day training that I really don't want to attend. The training is out of the office. The relevence of this training to my job is minimal. Everyone I supervise is out of town for a work retreat. I guess I can't delegate my attendance to someone else.

Here's to hoping this thing ends early this afternoon!

Time Trial Commute

I popped a 15t cog on the rear the other day- what a difference it made on this inaugaral ride. The 16 is too easy, the 14 too tall on hills, but the 15 is just right. It was sunny and windless and I was eager to ride to work- so eager that a block away I needed to return for my back pack. I thought I was traveling a bit light. I'd have no flat kit, no keys for work, no cell phone, no repair tools.

Normally my commute takes roughly an hour and fifteen minutes. I ride like a diesel engine- smooth and steady- heart rate in the 110-120s. My goal today was to make the 20 mile trip in under an hour. I've come within a handful of minutes in the past, but have never been successful. I'm sure I could do it with relative ease on my geared bike. Riding fixed only adds to the challenge.

The other challenge is stoplights. Part of my game involves following the lights. Unfortunately, I hit a few long red lights on Minnehaha Parkway. I figured I could make it up later. I made great time and was at Warner Road at 50 minutes with nothing between me and work but a long light at a busy intersection, two huge hills, and the mess of crossing I94. At the light at Highway 61, I spied I guy on a Litespeed. He served as a nice rabbit as I flew up the hill. I checked my watch, and it wasn't looking good. I was lucky to catch all greens on the series of lights to cross 94 and rolled into work at 1:04. I'm guessing I spent four minutes stopped- that if I had a computer I'd show an average speed very close to 20 mph.

One of these days I'll make my time.

Rosemount Crit- Week One

OK, that's more like it. It was hotter than hell and neither shade nor breeze to cool things down. Tonight I raced the Master's 4/5. I was a bit tired from the past two days, but figured everyone else would be beaten up from Sunday. I didn't win or place, but I finished with the pack. I took an early pull (bad idea) and caught some wind here and there, but I might as well work to make things interesting. The course was rather fast- there were no crazy turns set up this week. Rosemount is on a closed driving course where people learn how to drive trucks and where police practice high speed chases. Each week, they use pylons to set up slightly different courses. This was my kind of course.

I didn't have the legs to do a second race- so I watched as two teammates were taken out by a racer taking a bad line out of a corner in the 35+ race. Crashing sucks.

When I returned home and downloaded the heartrate data, my average heart rate for the race was 180- a new record average, if I recall. My high was 193. I love it when everything pops in place and I don't blow up. Maybe next week I'll be more rested and can use smarter tactics. Then again, everyone is probably thinking that right about now.

"Cars-R- Coffins" Sticker on an SUV

I'm not kidding. I actually saw that yesterday. I just don't understand. Nobody is that ironic. What does it mean? Somebody please explain it to me. Is the implication that if you are not in an SUV you are more likely to die?

Keep those stickers on your bike buddy... you scare me!

Hopkins Criterium

This crit combined the Masters 4/5 with the 50+ race. Combined- meaning that everyone started together. The 50+ race was open- meaning that it didn't matter what category a racer was. We started with a cartoonishly large field, maybe 50 or 60 riders. The course itself was about .8 kilometers long- maybe a half mile. By 9:30am, it was already very hot and humid.

Have I set the stage for my excuses yet? Here's what happened: it started out screamingly fast. Usually there is a bit of a roll-out for a crit, particularly with such a huge field. The speed did not relent. I followed the wheel of a guy from LSC that I knew to be a very strong rider. I believe he was the top ranked rider in his class prior to this race. The course was rather wide and easy, and I remember last year that I could take the corners with no braking. Unfortunately, with such a huge field, the accordion effect was in full force, and I had to sprint out of each corner at 30+ mph. With such a small course, I had no recovery time, and my lack of training and targeted preparation began to take its toll. I was getting cooked. And then it happened. I was caught behind a crash on the far side of the course.

The crash interrupted things just enough so a few of us lost contact with the main pack. I was with a strong rider from Birchwood, and we worked together to pick up a few stragglers, including the guy from LSC. What we didn't know was occurring was that there was a breakaway that was closing in on us as we were chasing the main group. Eventually we were pulled.

I found out later that 2/3 of the field was pulled, according to another blog I read. Also, Charlie Townsend was the winner of 50+, and I believe he came in first overall. I don't know what category he races, but under ordinary circumstances I would never be in the same race with Charlie. I'm sure his participation really helped drive the tempo into the stratosphere.

At least I was in good company when I was pulled. There is another race Tuesday, from a series that is usually a suffer fest for me. Something to definitely look forward to. I now remember how burned out on racing I was last year in mid-July.

One Man's Trash- Revisited

I forgot to mention that I spent my Friday evening swapping tires around the three commuter bikes in the basement. My training wheels for my Look have used the same Vittoria Rubino Pro Slicks for, well, a long time, and the rear was completely squared off. While I have more racing tires than I know what to do with, I don't have that many decent foldable tires for training, so I tossed a Vittoria Action HSD on the rear. This prompted me to inspect all my tires. My main commuter still had a Vittoria Open Corsa CX- which is far to fragile for commuting, although to date it has been impervious to flatting. It was thoroughly squared off. I tossed a cheapo Continental 2000 wire bead tire on the rear. My wife's commuter, which has yet to make the trip as a commuter since she still rides her road bike, had a beautiful set of Pariba Pro Course handmade tires. She's had good luck with them, but is a bit nervous about changing the rear if she flats, since it requires the wrench. I swapped an Armadillo off the front of one of the commuter tires, leaving me the other on the rear of my rain bike. If I get the Paribas off altogether, I'll have a tire shortage.

But that is not the point of this post. I had offered to give a friend the Raleigh Carlton that I rescued from a freeway overpass last autumn. This bike was stripped of every part that wasn't galvanically bonded on. I managed to drag it home and liberate most of the remaining parts. To be fair, this required some use of a hacksaw and Dremel, but I still couldn't free the seatpost. The fork was bent beyond repair, but I kept it for reference to locate a replacement with a suitable steerer. The tubing is Reynolds 531, and it has a 120mm rear. It isn't exactly a new bike. The paint was oxidized, but it had no dents and no rust. It was sized like a 58 cm frame, but it had the longest headtube I've ever seen on a non-custom bike.

I abandoned the project after I located the Schwinn frameset. I offered the Raleigh to a friend who also rides fixed. He finally came around to pick it up last night. Hopefully it will be reincarnated.

Hopkins Crit- Great Expectations

Tomorrow is the Hopkins Crit- my best results from last year for a ROY event were at Hopkins. I placed something like 6th or 8th. Last year, our team had the sandbagger to end all sandbaggers. He was way off the front. After a prime sprint, I found myself ahead of the pack with a Loon State (or was he with Tonka?) guy that I wasn't particularly fond of. He wanted me to help him work, but I was a bit idiotic and didn't really want to help chase down my own teammate. I really should have been more selfish. I quickly regretted my actions, as I don't think we could have ever caught him, and we did we were summarily nabbed by a chase group. I won't make the same mistake this year. Then again, we really don't have a team this year, and we definitely don't have any tactics. The other mistake I made last year was that I felt so good after the first race, that I decided to do an open master's race (in addition to the M 4/5). What a nightmare. It was insanely fast. It probably didn't help that my decision was a bit impulsive and my legs were already a bit cooked.

As if I'm not feeling old enough post-birthday, we'll be having the fifty-plus guys with us during our race tomorrow. I hope we don't start at the same time. I can't remember how this was handled last year.

I am really looking forward to this race. It is flat and non-technical- my specialty. Hopefully it is so fast that it wears down the sprinters.

One Man's Trash

The weather held out just fine for my commute home. In fact there was no hint of a storm. I took Grand Avenue up the hill to Summit and stopped at Grand Performance to pick up some new SPD-L cleats for my "commuter shoes"- my Sidi Energy that have seen their better days. GP is the main team sponsor, and I like to give them as much business as possible (and they give me a team discount). I rode my Schwinn Prologue conversion. As I entered the shop, a 40-something guy sitting on the sofa told me he "used to have a frame just like that." I asked if it was the same color. When he responded affirmatively, I joked that it probably was his old frame. He mentioned that he had placed a "Coke" sticker on the top tube. I mentioned that I had removed a "Coke" sticker.

Tale of the Prologue Conversion

At this point we realized it had been his old frameset. He said he threw it away years ago, and that he had a matching time trial frameset as well. I told him how I purchased this from an employee of Carlson Cyclery who had placed an ad at Craig's List, and that last time I was at Carlson's, they still had the TT frameset. He went on to tell old war stories about the bike's past-life experiences. He seemed to appreciate that fact that it had been rescued from certain demise- that it lives on as a work horse commuter.

By the way, when I purchased the cleats and they were ringing me up, the shop guy asked what category I raced. This made me wonder if they give more of a discount based on racing category. The way this season has been going, I should be paying more than full retail.

Harm Reduction

I had a nice ride in to work, although the forecast is questionable for the return home. Along Shepard road I passed a few guys sleeping on park benches- presumably homeless. My experience working in social services has left me with much ambivalence about "homelessness." It seems that at some level, homelessness is a choice. There are plenty of resources and programs available for those "willing to participate." I'll skip the circumstances that must result in an individual having no friends in the world willing to help them out by providing a couch to crash on. I'll ignore the barriers to housing created by having felonies on one's record. I won't even mention that one's socio-economic circumstances have a strong influence on whether or not someone is even convicted of a felony. I just want to consider the issues of chemical dependency for a moment.

Most residential programs require that participants be chemical free- that they abstain from drugs and alcohol. From a cost-benefit analysis, it just isn't worth it for many people. It becomes preferable to sleep on a park bench. There are very few programs that provide basic food and housing to ensure that an individual's basic survival needs are met, while tolerating some chemical or alcohol use. For whatever reason, our society views these "wet houses" as institutionalized forms of "enabling." We really like to stick it to people with chemical dependency. This is in glaring contradiction to our wide-spread use of "harm reduction" in almost every other aspect of life. We have all sorts of low-fat or sugar-free junk food. We raised the speed limits of our freeways, while adding seatbelt laws and tossing airbags in most vehicles. We eat very unhealthy diets while stuffing our bodies with medications to control cholesterol and acid reflux. We market "light" cigarettes, decaf coffee, near-beer, I-Can't-Believe-It's-Not-Butter, Diet Coke. We use very poorly written computer operating systems (albeit, relatively easy to use) while plugging holes with anti-virus software, spyware scanners, and firewalls.

Harm reduction is everywhere. Well, almost everywhere. I definitely saw two guys sleeping very peacefully on benches this morning. As long as they aren't smashing bottles on the bike lanes...

This Is Your Birthday Song

Yesterday I had a perfect commute: cloudless and windless with a temperature that was ideal. As I was leaving the office, by way of the main entrance, I was accosted by a dozen co-workers who sang a quick birthday song- the one that goes, "This is your birthday song, It isn't very long." I don't know why I always find that so amusing. It was probably the best harmonizing that crew had ever been able to muster. Then again, a few key employees were missing from the spectacle. Bottom line: I had to endure no snide comments about looking like "a bug," and they neglected to make any references to my biking attire.

Progress has been made.

Gears, Tears, and Fears- Finale

I showed up at GT&F to get a hard workout in after my miserable appearance in Northfield yesterday. After I signed in, the leader told me I needed a map because the route was different. I grabbed a map. It turned out the route headed towards where I work. There was no way I was biking anywhere near my commute, not to mention the reliance of this ride on bike trails. I was annoyed, so I took off solo for a Dakota County ride. I tried to be discreet. I regretted not wearing a better jersey- I never wear my team jersey to another club's ride. I usually go out of my way to wear my dorkiest jersey possible to GT&F.

I hadn't checked out the map too closely, as I met the GT&F riders heading toward St. Paul on Highway 13 as I was heading the other direction. I don't know if they recognized me, or what they thought, but I didn't really care. They are rather a cliquish bunch of the best of days. I did an out and back on 13, and as I was heading up the hill coming out of Mendota, I caught some guy wearing a Saunier Duval-Prodir kit. He followed me to 35 E and said goodbye as I turned off to cross the bridge. I explored an alternate route for my commute by taking Otto to Seventh to some other street to god-knows-where to Victoria to Summit. It would be quite hilly taking it fixed. I took Summit to Mississippli Blvd, crossed using the bike bridge near the freaky aluminum museum by the U, and ended up on West River Road. This time, I was caught by the Saunier Duval-Prodir dude, and we ended up riding together for a few miles.

He became quite talkative at the coincidence of having just seen me in Mendota Heights, and now Minneapolis. We headed the same route to the commuter trail, though he turned off toward Hopkins and I headed toward the Greenway to cut through the parking lot to catch the road by Calhoun, then Harriet. He seemed like a nice guy and a strong rider, although he might do well to get rid of the iPod while he is on the road. And Saunier Duval-Prodir? They'll be lucky if they even win a stage, on this, their first Tour.

Northfield Excuses, Lame Excuses

Northfield Crit Report-

OK- Last year I was pulled from this race- and less than a week later placed 6th or 8th or something like that at Hopkins. This year just didn't feel right. I completely blew up, and for some strange reason, my heart rate was hovering around 135 a half hour later when I was in my car. My body was not its normal self. Blame it on lack of training, but hey, I tried.

This summer has felt like a long vacation. We went to Paris, Chicago, Alaska, had two long visits from relatives staying with us. It has been a wonderful summer, but I haven't been able to follow much of a structured training program. Frankly, family is and should be, more important than amateur racing. At work, the receptionist was joking that I don't work there anymore. At least I have Hopkins next week, then the Rosemount series begins on Tuesdays. There is plenty more suffering to endure.

Acting Like a Whiney Oppressed Minority

(BTW- apparently "whiny" can be spelled either way. Who knew?)

OK- I anticipated the ride home, expecting a showdown at the orange fence. I had righteousness on my side, and my wife truly was my better half on this sunny day- since I was in poor form. As we approached the portion of the fence where we could step over, a skinny young security guard in his security guard polo shirt- sporting an enormous neck brace (worthy of a thousand bad lawyer jokes) efficiently intercepted me after I entered the forbidden zone. He told us we couldn't enter. I suggested there were no signs, no alternate routes, that there was no access to the road, and on and on. He must have been well trained, since he didn't discuss any of this and told me if we didn't leave he'd call the police.

This brought out the worst in me. I suggested that he do that, and that the police would do nothing about the situation (which was probably true if my work experience with police was any indication how these situations were dealt with). My wife suggested that we just go, but of course, I was just getting started. Eventually her good sense prevailed, but not before the security guard disclosed that the reason the area was fenced off was that it contained thousands of dollars of fireworks for the Taste of Minnesota festival directly across the river.

My wife and I found our way across Shepard Road, then back to the open portion of the bike trail. Of course this debacle was incomplete, and my wife chastised me by using my own advise against me- that I need to pick and choose my battles more carefully. She went on to point out that I had a chip on my shoulder about biking that gets played out here and elsewhere, and that I have negativity associated with that. She even brought up the point that rather than advocating for biking in any positive or meaningful way, my asshole behavior toward the security guard could just as easily provoke him to resent bikes, or to buzz the next cyclist he encountered. I didn't exactly like hearing all that, especially right at that point- ironically as we took the tunnel under 35E, that must have cost at least a hundred thousand dollars to improve the safety of the bike paths.

We had a rather sullen ride home, which was as easily attributed to a Friday commute and the fact that she has been far too busy with relatives staying with us to sneak much biking into her schedule. After we returned home, I took a solo ride to clear my head. By now, things were sinking in. Somehow, I had turned into the opposite of the crazy drivers that love to point out when a biker rolls through a stop sign. I was going out of my way to highlight the indignities endured while commuting. For whatever reason, I have a very different, more laid-back attitude while on my road bike. But commuting by bike- that is a noble endeavor that emboldened my sense of self-righteousness- and it was bringing out a nasty side that was looking for trouble among those (motorists or security guards) worthy of my ire. It certainly does nothing to further the advocacy of cyclists' rights. And it reflects poorly upon my character.

I hereby resolve to focus on the positive aspects of cycling and to not go out of my way to look for the rare transgressions against cyclists- the exceptions to the rule. Let's face it, thousands of cars pass us without incident. I ride thousands of trouble-free miles. Why do I even provoke security guards? I will do my best to not focus on the injustices. I will not advocate for "getting even." I will not act like this is a battle between good and evil. Far from the cosmic proportions it can be blown up to be, most people really don't care. I really doubt it is easy to make much of a difference on the street by yelling at a driver. The best way to make a difference is probably to set a good example. Trouble is, it is far less immediately satisfying.

On a lighter note, I saw a 60-something year-old woman on a bike with a large basket with a radio riding in my neighborhood. Later, I saw her at Lunds loading her basket with groceries. In the grand scheme of things, it is way cooler than seeing someone in a full CSC kit riding a Cervelo. And I somehow don't think she views the world with the same antagonism I've been fixated on lately.

This Is Getting Old

This morning, my wife and I commuted together- a first for us. It was overcast, but dry. Anyway, we encountered the penned off parking lot again. We moved a barricade and biked through the forbidden zone. As we were climbing over the fence on the opposite side, a rotund security guard waddled out of his car at the far end of the lot and yelled something at us that was lost in the wind. I smiled and waved, and yelled back. We resumed our commute and discussed tactics for our return trip home. I'll feel even more justified in my disobedience riding westbound, since it is illegal to ride against traffic.

I still can't figure out what is so special that they need to pay a security guard to watch the orange zone. There is no work occurring inside the area. I left another message for "Tom" of the city of Saint Paul, giving him a few more details highlighting the absurdity of the situation. My ordeal is almost over. I guess I just need to ride home, then maybe commute on Wednesday of next week, allegedly the last day of "parking lot closure."

Second Class Citizen, Redux

OK, I actually did call the city and was directed to the "Rights of Way" department and spoke with "Tom," who agreed the situation on the commuter trail was a problem. He said he'd look into it.

On my way home, when I encountered the penned in area, I noticed they had fastened my previous exit point (which I was now attempting to enter) to a steel railing by the river's edge (mental note to self: bring a knife tomorrow). With my original plan thwarted, I stepped over/through the orange construction fence. There were no work vehicles within, and no construction was being done. Some band was playing across the river at Harriet Island, and it appeared they were still setting up for Taste of Minnesota.

I rode through the quarantine zone to the other side when I noticed another biker from the other direction sizing up his options. He cut through the area I was planning to exit when out of nowhere a security guard approached and yelled that he couldn't enter. I approached the guard and asked him why they couldn't have left the bike path clear. He replied that it made too much sense. He then went on to ask, "Shouldn't bikes be using the road anyway?" I explained that there was no way to the other side of the median and that it was extremely dangerous to ride against traffic- particularly on that stretch that has no shoulder and has a posted limit of 50mph (or maybe it is 45). Anyway, he was quite pleasant.

While riding away I recalled the sign at the other end referencing "Parking Lot Closed, June 29 - July 6"- even though the fenced area certainly exceeded the lot. Perhaps they were only trying to prevent people from parking there during the Taste of Minnesota across the river. At any rate, at present they are unnecessarily blocking access to a bike path without providing any safe detour. And there is yet to be a visible reason for such obstruction. They will need to do better than that before I respect their fence.