BikeCrave

Success would be the best revenge

jeffbean — Fri, 19 Mar 2010 20:47:44 +0000

The title of this post is a quote from Author Unknown–at least as far I know. Why write a blog post about revenge on a site that celebrates all things cycling? Here’s why: the verbal war in the last 48 hours between cyclists and sports radio talk show host can’t be resolved through revenge. When Lance Armstrong called ESPN 980 Radio host Tony Kornheiser an “f-ing idiot” and a “douchebag” yesterday on Twitter over Kornheiser’s ridiculous on-air comments, I’m convinced that cyclists’ anger across the U.S. was validated. Mine was. For a day. I love that opinions can be shared instantly online. The exchange provides greater insight into how the world functions and how we view injustice (not always, but it’s definitely better than the old 24-hour news cycle through filters of big media.)

OK, so the deal: We’ve all had “moments” in which someone behind the wheel of a motorized vehicle made us feel small. Insignificant. Powerless. Vulnerable. Dare we say, hated. It’s awful. Serves no purpose for humankind. Being injured or killed on a bike is a real and present danger. I ended up undergoing a four-hour emergency surgery to put back together parts of my mug and chompers after a run-in with a hit-and-run motorist 2 years ago nearly to the day. I carried a lot of anger inside immediately afterward. I wanted something. To heal. To vent. To maybe find revenge? But over time, wounds healed, memories began to subside and I realized that revenge wasn’t so much about “making things right” but simply making someone feel a hint of pain and accountability for what they did. I know today that if I met the person who left me on the side of the road, I wouldn’t really want revenge. No, success is the best revenge. It’s why I continue to ride. Farther than ever before. And more at peace than I ever believed possible. I’m not a hippie. Or granola-crunching beatnik. Just a husband, father, uncle, son and cyclist.

Open letter to ESPN Radio

jeffbean — Thu, 18 Mar 2010 03:44:30 +0000

It’s not often, I rant here on BC. The last time was an open letter to Facebook for its hosting of a “group” fan page that included images of cyclists being maimed by automobiles and motorists. All in good humor, free-speech advocates would say. So, now the stakes get higher. Tony Kornheiser, Washington D.C. talk show host and sports television personality on ESPN, made a few unfortunate remarks about cyclists, in regards to discussions in the nation’s capital to close off Pennsylvania Avenue to bikes only from the White House to the U.S. Capitol. I wrote an email to ESPN 980 Radio over the weekend after listening to Tony’s recorded (and archived) opinions myself. You can listen here by clicking on March 11 (Part 1). The free speech begins at 31:27. You can slide the play bar right to the spot.

A few observations, then I’ll be quiet:

Tony, those “shiny” shorts cyclists wear that you find some funny? They are made of the same “shiny” material the 400-pound football players you fawn over (and criticize) wear.
“Disgusting poseurs” that you describe cyclists as in your city as sounds like a definition of yourself. Seriously. Howard Stern, you’re not.
“Run ‘em down!” may be easy to say from the comfort of your radio studio (or from the leather seats of your automobile), but doesn’t provide entertainment value or family values that your station’s parent company and majority owner, Walt Disney Company, promotes. Have you been to Disneyland lately? Mickey Mouse? Goofy? Similarities?
“They (bicyclists) don’t share the road, they dominate the road.”? Really? Wow. I guess you’ve never been to Southern California, Tony. Even you would probably get run off the road–in your car, no less–on the I-5 in LA rush hour traffic. It’s a tough world.
And when you predict “someone’s going to hate me for (saying what I said about cyclists),” guess what? You’re right, Tony. If you and your crack producers need to stoop to this level of “entertainment” to get ratings on a “sports” radio network, well, we’re all worse off. Things must be bad. But they could always get worse. I hope you never hit anyone on a bike with your automobile. An archive of the March 11, 2010 “show” will sound pretty damaging to a jury. They’re your words, Tony. Your’s alone.

Good ’sensations’

jeffbean — Tue, 16 Mar 2010 08:20:57 +0000

I’ve read some spirited pro cycling comments (and banter) from fans. One recently lamented how pros often describe getting good “sensations” in their legs, while mortals experience races or rides in which the quads, calves and hamstrings are filled with a heavy feeling of dread. Heh. Haven’t we all been there? Usually–I might add–we’re there when we’d do anything (yes, anything) for good “sensations” during a competitive climb among pals, or before winding it up for the final spint to the line in crit. Knowing when your body will deliver the type of good sensations you can transform into a winning legs is among the hardest things to time. Many of us don’t train enough, due to injuries and other circumstances beyond our control. On the flipside, others overtrain, and burn a few too many matches before it’s time to light the perfect fire.

Good sensations might be out of reach for some. But I like to think the opposite: they’re a few hundred well-planned training miles and a jar of embrocation away. Before the Death Valley Double Century just outside a week ago, I tapered. Seriously tapered for my taste. Spinning in the garage used to frighten me into thinking I wouldn’t have the legs for a big event. Well, I’ve learned that resting (including active recovery) makes a difference. Oh, and the embrocation? Mad Alchemy is top-shelf. Mellow Warming provides good sensations for sub-50 or sub-60 degree mornings. And the summer flavor (minimal warming) works great for anything over 60. Does it make me ride better? So far, yes. Through rain, fog, low-40s-frosty-mornings, and warm summer days to come. I’m sold. Can’t wait to try Mango Love. The scent makes me think it’s worth it.

11-year itch

jeffbean — Mon, 15 Mar 2010 00:38:22 +0000

A lot can happen in 11 years. When Lance Armstrong returned to professional cycling to win the 1999 Tour de France, it pretty much shocked the tifosi and television commentators. A cancer survivor, depite doctors giving him razor-thin odds to live, Armstrong has since cemented his place in cycling history. Seven consecutive Tours de France titles does that. The streak began when he was 27 years old. Now 38, he’ll attempt (likely for the last time) to reach the top step of the winner’s podium in Paris this July.

His main foil is Alberto Contador, who happens to be 27 years old. Contador already has two yellow jerseys in his trophy case, and plenty of years in front of him to win more. Short a complete Team Astana–or individual rider–breakdown, Contador is the odds-on favorite to repeat in France this summer. Watching him pull away from his rivals on steep climbs during this past week’s Paris-Nice stage race reminded me of Lance 11 years ago: Explosive, seemingly effortless, and unbeatable. Eleven years of life is nearly 4,000 days and untold heartbeats. More mileage on the engine. If Armstrong were to somehow win the Tour de France in four months, amateur Masters racers and 40-somethings everywhere would hoot and holler. Age and treachery overcoming youth and skill. Could it really happen? Long shot, for sure. I wonder if Armstrong ever dreams about the day he decimated his rivals on Mount Sestriere. Take away the quill stem, 26.0 bars and Concor saddle on his bike, and it could be Contador today. Dancing on the pedals. Leaving his closest compeition to fight for second and third place. A lot can happen in 11 years. Here’s the link to Garmin Data from today’s Valley Center Circuits. Great morning on the bike.

The wind doesn’t always win

jeffbean — Sun, 14 Mar 2010 03:25:54 +0000

“The older you get, the stronger the wind gets. And it’s always in your face.”

-Pablo Picasso

I have nothing but respect for cyclists who live and train in windy climes. Texas comes first to mind. I did the Ride for the Roses in 2003 and 2004 in Austin, when the wind blew something like (I swear) a bazillion knots. A jumbo cold or hot wind in your face is as difficult mentally as any alpine climb, due the unpredictable nature of the opponent and its never-ending invisible assaults. You can see and size up a mountain. You can’t see a gust that smacks you in the kisser and makes you reel. One moment your driving hard on a straight line with great cadence. The next moment, you’re wobbling and feeling as if the wheels may slide right out from under your arse. All the while, large vehicles roll by within a couple meters. It’s unnerving, but builds character when out there solo. No rotation in a pace line or sharing the work. The alone-rider’s job is serious stuff. The brain on sensory overload. Eyes alert for debris below. Torso adjusting to a push here, a push there.

Today, the wind threw down the gauntlet during stretches of two difficult climbs. I found myself searching out tree tops to gauge the opponent. The combo of more-aggressive-than-usual wind and pitched asphalt was beautiful. A late winter whip-fest less than 24 hours before Daylight Saving Time clicks in. So appropriate. The wind can test the hardiest of riders. But it doesn’t always win. Last month, a rider asked me after the 80 for Haiti ride what the equivalent mileage really was, thanks to howling winds. The answer was easy: 80–with wind. We don’t subtract miles or kilometers from a ride to account for wind at our back. It makes perfect sense not to add any when it’s in our face. Just plow forward. Here’s Garmin data from today’s door-door Palomar Mountain climb (first shot), complete with a Cole Grade Road kicker (second shot). The wind didn’t win, but it came close.

Bike vs. office

jeffbean — Fri, 12 Mar 2010 06:06:46 +0000

It’s really not a fair fight. The bike triumphs on so many levels: physical invigoration, sun, wind, rain, chill, warmth, mobility, endorphins. The office, however, is a critical fact of life: income, eating, mortgage, intellectual rigor, retirement and college savings, quarterly earnings to the Street, innovation, technology, growth.

I’d be lying if I didn’t say that on the most challenging of workdays, the bike becomes a temporary salvation from the office. The opposite is rarely true. But sometimes the polar opposites converge almost perfectly. I don’t know how. It just happens. One (the office) helps fuel the other (passion for the bike). Ideas born on the bike make their way into work, and problems that need solving in the office melt away over miles pedaled. Do you ever experience these feelings?

So the big question: Why?

Maybe it’s because our first memories of bikes are tied to our youth, when two wheels provided freedom from the local neighborhood, a place where we spent a good amount of time doing chores, going through routines, dreaming of life beyond the usual — if only for awhile. As kids, we always knew those rides outside the comfort zone weren’t forever, and that we’d be back by dark into the arms of family and responsibility. As adults, we face the same kind of quid pro quo, except the stakes only get higher. I’d offer that it’s why the weekday bike rides we wedge in during this part of life only grow sweeter and become more cherished. They provide provide balance. And dammit, they’re worth it.

People for Bikes

jeffbean — Fri, 12 Mar 2010 02:45:33 +0000

Ever been a part of something special? If you ride a bike, you already are. I hope you’ll sign the pledge and join the effort to unite 1 million voices. It’s time.

Where are you going?

jeffbean — Tue, 09 Mar 2010 16:02:37 +0000

Where are you going?

When on the bike, do you prefer point-to-point rides? Loops? A GPS and pre-loaded maps? Whatever the road serves up? The trainer with a DVD and power meter?

After watching Bicycle Dreams a second time this week, I can’t get a quote out of my head. I don’t know if it’s 100 percent accurate, but it’s worth repeating: “Endurance athletes are running away from something inside of themselves, and that’s one of the reasons they do what they do.” When attributed to a younger Lance Armstrong, those words ring true. As a kid, he was fatherless, an “outsider” in a tradition-bound city that values social status and the success of your momma and daddy. No doubt, the bicycle he rode at an early and formative time of growth became a good best friend, something he could count on.

Where are you going?

I’d argue that, yes, cycling (as an endurance pursuit) can be an “escape” from many things. Certain unplesantries, come what may, and the parts of our life beyond our influence, or illusions of control. Cycling, though, isn’t that simple. Endurance athletes aren’t that easily stereotyped. It’s not so much the art of “escaping.” It’s “finding.”

To find, a cyclist first must desire or seek something. Running away isn’t the endgame, no way. The ability to practice an endurance sport (like cycling, like running, like swimming) and derive greater meaning is. Ergo: Finding new physical and mental thresholds. Reaching higher goals, the ones uncomfortably beyond your reach today. Pushing boundaries you never imagined you’d ever even consider touching. Then finally, shattering fears, both real and imagined.

Where are you going?

10 stages of double fun

jeffbean — Sun, 07 Mar 2010 23:57:32 +0000

The Death Valley Double Century. A definite keeper. Do it, if you like doubles or enjoy the desert. Ride it, because it’s one-of-a-kind. The ride, for me, provided 10 stages of fun. Death Valley National Monument gives you everything, and more. If the moon had oxygen, a 200-mile ride up there might be similar in several ways. Plenty of rock formations. Beautiful absolute desolation. Pretty much out of the this world. Here’s what happened on the Death Valley Double.

First 20 miles – Chattiness. Groups of 10-20 riders fueled by caffeine ride hard like a peloton, talk up a storm (and forget that 180 miles separates them from finishing).
Miles 20-40 – Eating, drinking, and more chatting. The groups splinter slightly but continue to plow along at speeds between 20 mph and 25 mph. Some riders half-wheel. Others stay on the back. A few brave souls take Hurclean pulls to impress complete strangers.
Miles 40-60 – The separation begins after checkpoint #2 (mile 45). On a 15-mile climb averaging under 7 percent gradient, voices go silent. Heads begin to bow. Shoulders rock to and fro. Sweat falls from chins. The fun is officially over for riders who realize it will be a long day (and part of the night) in the saddle.
Miles 60-80 – Descending toward vastness, and suddenly wondering why anyone would live in Shoshone.
Miles 80-100 – Climbing for another dozen miles. Then descending. Then climbing another half dozen. At one point you’re at 3,200 feet of elevation. Then, you’re below sea level.
Miles 100-120 – Saying hello to the wind. It’s blowing in your face. Makes flat terrain more testy. Pull out iPod.
Miles 120-140 – Badwater. Why the name? Not sure. Great scenery, though. Course now looking like a war zone. Riders from the Century ride and Double Century ride sharing Highway 190. Gentle rollers. And more wind. It’s getting serious.
Miles 140-160 - This is where the brain must tell the body to remain happy and relaxed. At mile 147, you’re at the Furnace Creek Inn checkpoint, where the whole thing started at 6 a.m. It’s not over. Fill bottles. Keep moving. Stovepipe Wells is 23 miles north of here before you’ll get to turnaround and come back to the “finish.” Checkpoint? Finish? It’s all semantics.
Miles 160-180 – Flat. Big ring. You can smell the end game. You see the fastest riders coming in the other direction. Waves exchanged. This is getting good.
Miles 160-196.4 – Where’d the sun go? The sky goes a brilliant dark blue. Then fades to black. Rain clouds form all about the rim of the valley. Dust swirls. Heavy side gusts toss you around and make a mockery of your 50mm aero rims. Big drops of water begin to pelt face, limbs, enthusiasm. Equaliberium is tested. You’re in the middle of nowhere. The Garmin battery dies. Time to ride on feel. A long river of flickering LED lights approaches. Waving to passing riders is out of the question. It’s enough to concentrate on the road. You turn the cranks, roll up to the finish and have your number marked and time recorded. Where’s the shower? What’s for dinner? Why do it? The fun, I tell you. The fun. (166 miles of it, before battery died.)

The trail

jeffbean — Fri, 05 Mar 2010 15:53:58 +0000

“Do not go where the path may lead, go instead where there is no path and leave a trail.”

-Ralph Waldo Emerson

I’m wrapping up a few things at the house in preparation for the long drive north to one of the most beautiful places on the planet. It’s a place whose name defies the beauty it provides in March: Death Valley. Right now is the perfect time to ride 200 miles in Death Valley, California. Cyclists on Saturday will roll out in the dark, and the majority will finish in the dark. A double will do that to you before the official start of spring. For this particular ride, things feel just right in pairs. This is my second Double Century. I’ll be bring two bikes with two sets of wheels. It’s been two decades since I’ve been in this giant natural stadium of incredible scenery and wonder. I scanned dozens of photos last night, seeking a glimpse of what awaits riders’ eyes as they make their way around the course. A few digitally enhanced images stole my heart. They reinforced why riding a bike is fascinating: The views. From the roadside. From the mountaintop. Along the ocean shore. Up from the valley below. And deep inside the soul. Yours. Mine. Ours. It’s personal, shared, and exhilarating. Where does the path lead? We don’t always know. So, it requires us to improvise at times. To not simply go where the path may lead, but as Emerson said, to “go instead where there is no path and leave a trail.”