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Archive for November, 2009

Friday’s Bell Lap

A very quick Bell Lap today and also a note that I’ll be taking off until after Thanksgiving.

My Trainer
For such a useful piece of equipment, dear trainer, you suck.  A lot.  I despise you and everything about you.  The very thought of pulling you out of my storage room is enough to make me want to crawl into bed and sleep until May.  And yet, dear old friend, it appears as we will be seeing quite a lot of each other over the coming months.

With my new commute looking like a bear, I’ve been pondering quite a bit about what my training options will be going forward.  It looks like I’ll be hitting the trainer far more than I care to.  Please shoot me now.  I know it’s an important part of training, especially to do specific workouts in a controlled environment – no wind, no variations in the road, nothing to hinder you from intervals, spin-ups or even a true recover ride, except death inspiring boredom.  Pick a cliché, insert it here and it really is more interesting than riding on the trainer.  And I’ve got an ideal set-up, right in front of a 55in flat panel with 100+ HD channels and control of the radio in the gym.  It’s still awful.   Looks like it’s going to be a long winter.

More On Why I Hate The West Side Bike Path
My friend Cal was heading out for a training ride last week when he was hit be another cyclist heading the wrong way in the wrong lane.  Cal’s ended up with a broken hand (needed surgery) and a broken bike.  He was doing 15mph when it happened.  Gaursci presto Cal.

History
Ever wonder how your steed came to be.  This video (which wordpress won’t let me embed) provides a history lesson, although the ending is a wee-bit understated.

Trying to buy a car is soaking up all my time, but that should be over right after Thanksgiving.  Hopefully, we’ll all come out unscathed, me, the dealer and the car.  Not betting on it.

That’s today’s view from the back.

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Sunday morning was the ride from hell.  Well, it could have been, if I had actually gotten anywhere.  It had rained the night before and the ground was still wet and slick with grime, so you knew there would be a flat or two along the way.  I just didn’t realize that it would happen to me 15 minutes into the ride and then again 10 minutes later.

Worse than the flats, I came unprepared.  I had swapped out wheels, forgot, and brought short-stemmed tubes along which made it next to impossible to get my mini-pump attached to the valve.  After the second flat, I borrowed a longer-stem tube from MtJ (thanks, MtJ) and rather than chance messing up everyone’s ride any more than I already had, I rode back home.  I’d guess it was about a whopping eight miles for the day.

More than anything else, I hate screwing up a ride because of my stupidity.  Flats happen and that’s no big deal, but not having the necessary stuff is a big deal and very, very fredesque.  The world’s simplest thing is to be prepared – you know, think it through the night before, get all your stuff either ready to go or have a mental checklist so that when something does go awry, you’re ready for it.

A couple of years ago, Omar and I took some of our sponsors (and some of their friends) on a ride.  It was also a wet day, and one of our sponsors flatted on the bridge.  Omar and I changed the tube mostly because it would be quicker if we did it.  Somewhere on 9W, one of the friends flatted.  He hadn’t brought anything with him – no tubes, no pump, no money, absolutely nothing – so I had to cough up a tube.  I didn’t mind giving him the tube, I’ve been there myself and someone was kind enough to give me one, but I did mind the brashness of the flatter who more or less proudly proclaimed he didn’t bring anything with him, hinting that he expected we would take care of it all because it was a sponsor ride.  What a pompous [expletive deleted].  He wasn’t even affiliated with the team, and we don’t exactly come complete with a full complement of soigneurs.  If you really want to make sure people never ride with you, show up unprepared and then boast about it.

The flip side of course is sometimes even being prepared doesn’t make a difference.  The summer I first got back from Italy, we had a standing Wednesday night 50+ mile ride over the bridge, and it was fantastic training.  One night, five or six of us including Todd – strong as an ox, Olympic rower – were heading out.  Five seconds after we start to roll the Todd flats.  He changes it – we teach newbies by not helping them – and we’re off for all of five minutes when he gets another flat.  He changes it again, and we roll for literally 45 seconds when Todd gets his third flat which one of us now decides to fix.  Much to his embarrassment, flat number three was caused by user error – Todd inserted the tube from his first flat instead of a new tube.  We make it to the end of the bike path at the sewerage plant when Todd gets flat number four.  Eyes are rolling into the backs of heads, everyone is snickering, and we’re all checking out everything – tubes, tires, rims.  Miraculously, we made it over the bridge and back before, yes indeed, Todd gets flat number five as were headed back on the West Side bike path.  It was an incredible string of bad luck, and a ride Todd is still trying to live down.

That’s today’s view from the back.

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Sponsorship

YourLogoHereNot so long ago, doing laps around the park, we came upon some guy from a new team consisting primarily of Cat IVs (the team was advertised as such which is why we knew.)  The jersey was decked out with sponsor logos.  Someone questioned how the heck a Cat IV team could have so much sponsorship.  Simple, sponsorship is a myth.

Sponsorship at our level comes in two forms: the benefactor and the discount deal.  That’s not to say that some teams get true sponsorship money (i.e., advertising dollars spent to associate a product or company with a team) – some local teams do get that kind of money and a lot of it.  They’re just the exception rather than the rule.

The benefactor is straight forward.  Someone knows someone who a) has in interest in the team for whatever reason (e.g., relative of a rider, a person who loves cycling and what’s to be associated with a team in some way, etc.) and b) has the wherewithal to provide the money.  Over the years, we’ve had the parent of a rider who gave us money under the “guise” of having the logo of the company he worked for on our jersey.  We’ve had the doctor of a rider give money because he was into cycling and it allowed him to be closer to the team.  We’ve had the owner of a company who wanted some kit also give money.   What none of those “sponsors” expected was to get anything back for their investment other than the kit we promised them.

The discount deal is probably the most common form of sponsorship.  A business will offer the team members a discounted price on their products in exchange for their logo placement on the kit.  The most common of these is the bike shop sponsor, followed quickly by the cycling-related business (for several years we had Gu give us an athlete-deal.)  Sometimes it’s not even a cycling related company – we once had a new local brewer offer to give us beer in exchange for a logo on our jersey – but it always a product that local riders might have an interest in.  The “investment” here makes sense because a) the company is getting money for their product, and if I had to guess, still making a profit on it and b) these products are typically geared at amateur cyclists, who not only see the brand name on the jersey, but generally get to see the product in use at the same time.

The reason that local teams don’t get true sponsorship or a lot of it, anyway, is simple.  They don’t have anything to offer.  They’re not on TV, they’re not in the press, they don’t generate interest – it’s not like a million people are tuning in around the globe to see who’s winning the Spring Series in Central Park.  Sure cycling continues to grow as a sport in the US, but  how many people outside of the handful of cyclists (and we are a relative handful compared to the masses) even see other jerseys let alone take the time to see who is “sponsoring” the team.  There’s nothing in it for the sponsor.  Zero, nada, niente, zilch.  So the next time you see a jersey covered in logos on some local amateur, don’t believe the hype. 

For years, I put together a sponsorship proposal and sent it out diligently.  We had some successes, but by and large mostly discount deals were on offer.  Finally, a couple years back after thinking about, the core of our team came to the decision that we wouldn’t seek any more sponsorship.  Sure we’d love to not to have to pay for our kit, but in the end we enjoy not having anyone tell us what races to do or when to race or the number of races we have to do even more.

That said, anyone want to sponsor us for the upcoming season?  I’d still like some free kit.

That’s today’s view from the back.

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Today’s post has only tangential ties to cycling and is a bit all over the place, so be forewarned.  Sure I went out and rode my training rides over the weekend and early this week, although I’d be hard press to tell you a single detail about any ride since last week.   Hence the mid-week Bell Lap.

Nostradamus?
I’m not saying last week’s Bell Lap had anything to do with it, but it seems I was only a day or two off.  It’s not a done deal yet, so I haven’t exactly popped the cork on the prosecco, but my job search appears to be coming to an end.  That’s a good thing, although starting a religion would have been a kick. 

It’s also a good thing because both my training and caloric intake were getting whammed in the last couple of weeks as this played out – neither in a positive way.  A while back I mentioned how much my training was suffering from the lack of a routine that accompanies being unemployed.  Now the question will be how big a hit is my training going to take?  The commute is too far to ride; far enough that I’ll need to get a car.  I’ll have to come up with some training solution but is a 4:30am training ride meeting time out of the question?  Seriously, once you’re getting up at 4:20am, what’s the big deal if you take away another 20 minutes of sleep?  I’m sure I won’t be the only one in the park on a bike at that hour.  Ok, I’m not so sure about that, but I’m pretty sure I can convince one or two others to join me . . .  eventually.

I guess I should focus on closing the deal before I worry about how my riding is going to be affected.  It’d be nice to get that two-ton weight of my back.

You’ve Just Won A Stage Of The Tour
This video was floating around twitterland.  Thanks to David Gardiner where I first heard about it.  I reposted it to Facebook but it’s too funny to share with such a limited group (such as my facebook fan group is.)

 

Burgers and Fries, Oh My
FritesnmeatsSpeaking of two-ton weights, yesterday I had a burger and fries at the Frites ‘n Meats truck, parked at Chambers and Greenwich St.  The food’s not dead weight, it just sure isn’t going to help me drop any pounds.   Now, I don’t eat a lot of burgers (not with the training diet and all), and I sure as heck don’t do street food (not counting the NYC Pretzel which isn’t so much street food as an institution), but the scuttlebutt on this was too good not to give it a go, especially on the last day of nice weather for six months.  So I hopped on my commuter and next thing I knew I’m chowing down on a burger and fries (actually, not exactly the next thing – there was a sizable line which meant the food had to be good.  The line moved quickly because there are about ten guys in the truck.)

The truck is the first thing you notice because it’s not so much street food as it is a mobile restaurant, and a good one at that.  The line moves so quickly because it’s run professionally – one guy takes your order, two guys are cooking the food and one guy is packing the order.  They even have the little order holder thingamajig that restaurants have in the kitchen so the chef knows what’s up next.

FritesNMeatsTruck

Hard To Miss Truck

Anyway, I didn’t ride down there to see the truck (which you can’t miss from 3 miles away).   I’m not sure which was better.  The burger was quite simply awesome and cheap (where else can you get a quality burger for under $6 these days).  Plus they add the condiments for you so it’s a no fuss burger.  The burger is ordinarily where I’d stop.  After all, fries are fries.  But these fries coupled with the spicy mayonnaise were so good it reminded me of my last trip to Belgian (I should clarify, I don’t eat Gotham street food; European street food is a whole other thing). 

Now the problem is fitting Frites ‘n Meat into the training diet?  What are the chances Merckx, Museeuw and Boonen ate/eat this stuff?  Maybe that’s the Belgian secret.  It’s conveniently located on the way to the races (I cut across Chambers to get to the Brooklyn Bridge) so if I can convince them to open up a little earlier (like 5:45am) it could become my race-morning first and second breakfasts.  Based on yesterday’s lunch, I’m more than willing to give it a go.

That’s today’s view from the back (or bottom of a cone of double fried belgian frites.)

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Friday’s Bell Lap

The Path of the Two(Wheels)
MatrixismAn article on paganism got me thinking that perhaps the whole concept of a job search is silly.  Why not just start a religion?  I can’t imagine it’s that hard to do given how many others have done it and with great success.

What I can imagine is how my church would inevitably lead to my evangelical TV show (hello Vs.  Are you listening?)  My sermon each week (delivered while circling the pulpit on the new bike I bought that week) would inevitably relate to when I was lost in the valley of wheelless until I found the Sheppard (the bike) and his (her?) light shone down and lit a path which has led to my rebirth (not to mention economic revival which is nicely funded by all of you, my congregation and, let’s not forget our wonderful fans out there in TV land – donations are tax deductable by the way.) 

So I googled “religion of the bike” (didn’t want to infringe on any sacred copyrights) which led me to a somone who had googled “bicycle religion” which led me to Matrixism which led me to an epiphany – it would be a whole lot easier to base my new religion on existing doctrine rather than be faced with either hoping a spirit reveals to me where I can find two disc wheels upon which are written some scared beliefs or having to create the whole thing from scratch.

Matrixism seemed a perfect launching pad.  As described by my fellow googler:

“It’s a religion based on the movie The Matrix (kind of like Jediism) that bicycling plays a big part in. Riding in Critical Mass is a sacred duty and Bicycle Day is one of its Holy days. I guess the bicycle represents the proper man/machine/environment relationship or something.”

Unfortunately, diving in a little deeper revealed two disturbing elements.  First, apart from celebrating Bicycle Day, the religion doesn’t seem to have all that much to do with anything related to a bike.  Second, there must be some sort of commune where you are expected to live with other Maxtrixists because they keep referring to the Tenants of Matrixism.  Oh well, as with any schism, my new religion will have to have come into existence because we don’t subscribe to all (any?) of the tenets of Matrixism.

But that also leaves me at having to create the whole thing from scratch (it seems easier find a job) or to wait for that spirit and the disc wheels.  I’ll give it until Monday on all three fronts.

The Triumvirate: Spouse, Spouse and Bike
Most religions seem to hold marriage as a sacred rite which is why my, uhm, research reminded me of this gem that someone had sent me many, many years ago.  I actually did give this to my wife when she was my fiancée.  She hasn’t stopped laughing about it yet.

The Cyclists Prenuptial
This agreement acknowledges that the forthcoming marriage is an arrangement that accepts the perpetual continuity of pre-existing relationship between the first two parties and that a three-way coexistence shall be created consisting of the following participants:

Spouse A (the non biking loved one) hereafter referred to as SA; Spouse B (the biker) hereafter referred to as SB, and; The Bike (the glorious one) hereafter referred to as TB.

Condition I: Acknowledgment
SA shall henceforth recognize that SB and TB have forged a long standing and unbreakable relationship and shall never attempt to permanently divide, or otherwise separate the two.

Condition II: Cohabitation
SA and SB shall agree upon comfortable and equal living quarters for TB, its related service equipment and riding gear. TB shall only be exposed to the elements of nature during rides. All other times TB shall have access to warm, dry, low traffic living space. If at any time there should be conflict w/ SA, SB or furniture, TB shall have preference as to where it stays. In SA’s absence TB shall be permitted bedroom space (if not already arranged).

Condition III: Exclusivity and Infidelity
At no time shall SA, SB, or TB be loaned out to be ridden by anyone outside the three-way relationship. SA must request from SB permission to ride, fondle or otherwise physically contact TB and only do so in the presence of SB.

Condition IV: Equal Time
SA shall be guaranteed quality time equivalent to TB unless it conflicts with TB in which case TB gets preference. Service time shall be guaranteed and considered a separate requirement. In the event of emergency, ie SA stranded, child sets hair on fire etc, SB shall complete whatever TB related activity as soon as possible and attend said emergency. In the event of a in-law visit or should, for any reason, SB become depressed or otherwise in need of stress relief, SB shall be permitted as much time w/TB or TB related activities, magazines, books, events etc as needed until such time SB feels better.

Condition V: Parts
SA and SB will agree that SB be permitted and encouraged to purchase any and all TB related equipment at any and all times, whether they be repairs, replacements, upgrades, or just plain Chi-Chi. Any replaced parts shall be considered cherished spares and provided appropriate storage space equivalent to that provided for TB, preferably under the bed, favorite closet or on coffee table as a conversation item.

New Items immediately installed shall require TB to be put on prominent display (ie in front of TV). Newly purchased items not immediately installed shall be put on display as a centerpiece during the day and they shall be kept under the pillow of SB at bed time, unless it is potentially dangerous to said part. This shall be for no less than 5 days or until they are installed whichever comes first.

Condition VI: Finance
All household finance shall be considered separate from TB finance. If conflict should arise then TB gets preference.

Condition VII: Disposition
In the event SA has a compatible bike SB can offer spare parts to be temporarily installed for use by SA until such time SB requires their use on TB. No prior notice is required. All equipment and TB they are installed upon or intended for, shall remain the property of SB come hell or high water, and shall not be relinquished under any circumstance including death, in which case the surviving party will be obligated to complete the upgrades (expressed, implied or dreamed of) and bury TB with the departed, unless TB or SB requests a separate grave in which case they shall be buried side by side and SA shall not be buried between them.

Condition VIII: Protected Communications
All TB related communications intended for SB, be they voice (phone messages, visitors); print (mail-order catalogues, etc.); or electronic (e-mail, buddies calling to ride, etc.) shall be forwarded and delivered to SB as expediently as possible. Furthermore, no censorship of said communications shall occur, and SA agrees to refrain from making disparaging comments about the content of these communications and/or their source(s).

Extended Conditions: TB shall never be the focus of an argument nor brought up as part of one. TB shall never be discussed w/ in-laws unless said discussion is in praise or defense of TB. No retaliation shall ever be taken against TB.

All of the above is to be considered iron-clad and in stone and non negotiable, unless of course, the nonbiker says so.

(c)Ryan Mason

(c)Ryan Mason

That’s today’s view from the back (of the doghouse, which is where I was after presenting the prenup, even in jest.)

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Another first lap in solitary confinement was well on its way to becoming two laps when it very quickly almost became 1.5 laps and a trip to the hospital.

Riding alone about to start climbing Harlem Hill for the second time, I see a teammate bombing down going in the other direction, looking for me.  Unfortunately, my teammate, who is blinder than a bat and wears glasses for most other occasions, doesn’t see me.  He’s got to be joking I figure as he keeps heading straight for me at warp speed.  It’s too late by the time I realize that our long running joke about the way he says hello to someone on a bike is by picking them off the ground after he’s run into them because he can’t see them is about to become reality.  A very painful reality.  Luckily, at the last second, and I do mean the last second, he sees me and swerves to avoid a collision.  When he finally recognizes me, he’s parallel to me.  “Hey” I hear as he zooms past.  Lucky.  I could just see trying to explain why there are two of us from the same team lying on the ground at the start of Harlem Hill.

My teammate is a little vain, well, a lot of vain, so much so that he’d rather not see than put on “non-cycling” glasses (don’t ask me about contact or prescription Oakleys – I stopped mentioning them a long time ago.)  Such is the nature of amateur cyclists with our matching kits, helmets, team-issue socks, and bar tape to match our kit.  I have a blue saddle on my race bike because I like the saddle and I got for free.  I never thought I’d hear the end of it.  We’re like a bunch of, excuse me ladies, girls when it comes to putting it all together.  And even important at 5:00 am when you can’t see anything anyway.

Today also marked the return of Rider X whom I’ve managed to avoid for the better part of two months.  Today he was riding a borrowed cross bike.  One lap in, the front tire starts losing air.  It’s a slow leak, but a steady one and soon it’s all but flat, but he keeps riding because, surprise, surprise, he doesn’t have a tube with him.  He’s so squirrelly on the downhill to Harlem Hill that the guys next to him have to scatter in different directions.   Once again, his problem is now everyone’s problem.

You probably shouldn’t be riding if:

  1. You don’t own a bike – seems to be a pre-requisite
  2. Every ride you have a mechanical issue. Every single ride – here’s some advice: check your bike the night before (let me rephrase, check whoever’s bike you’re borrowing the night before). You’ll probably notice things like the front tire having no air in it
  3. You can’t be bothered to bring a tube and a pump with you – those flats aren’t just going to go away by themselves, are they?  And the solution is not to ride tubulars on training rides.  That just exacerbates the problem
  4. You can’t be bothered to stop and fix the flat – Heck, we’ll probably even help you change it, but it makes the ride better for everyone if we take care of the issue and get back to riding instead of hearing about for 20 minutes

Rather than get into it, I just increased the pace up Harlem Hill.  When the boys caught up to me on the next riser, he was nowhere to be seen.  Problem solved.

That’s today’s view from the back.

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monotonySomewhere between the end of the 1st lap and the start of the 2nd lap in Central Park today, I started thinking of being home.  More accurately desperately wishing it were 7:20am, and I was in the elevator on the way up to my apartment.  This was a lot better than most days.  Ride 300 laps a year (give or take), and see how quickly your thoughts turn to anything that might helps stave off the monotony.  Which is why I’m dumbfounded that some guy would walk around his block in Brooklyn 75 times (which was 26.4 miles).   Actually the guy was Andy Newman, a writer for the New York Times and of course it was for an article, but still, Andy, there’s got to be a better way to make a living.  Then again, at least Newman walked around his block for a day because he is making a living.  Can’t really say the same now, can I?

“This is pathetic — I’m walking miles every day without getting anywhere” morphed into “What if we kept walking — without going anywhere?  Wouldn’t that be kind of cool?”  That’s what training in Central Park is, riding without going anywhere.  And it’s anything but cool.

04:56 – Hit Tavern and I circle around waiting to see who shows up.  It’s really dark out.  Make sure I don’t hit the one other idiot already doing laps who says “good morning” (why is it that everyone who rides a bike feels obligated to say good morning to everyone else on a bike?  You wouldn’t say hello to me if you saw me walking down the street or if I got into the same elevator as you, would you?)  Anyway, it’s not morning yet.  It’s still night as far as I can tell.  And it’s not that good.  I’m bleary eyed, freezing and I have to pee because it’s so cold out.
 
5:00 am – start rolling because no one showed up (have they seen the error of our ways finally and are all sleeping in like the rest of the city that never sleeps?)  Start talking to myself about nothing in particular.  At least it makes me feel like I have company, because there’s no one around except for the occasional odd runner, emphasis on odd.

5:05 am – See blonde woman who is in the park every single day running by backwards to meet the three guys she runs with every single day.  Guess she wasn’t training for the marathon, my bad.  Which means she actually likes running and running at 5:00am no less.  Now that’s weird.

5:07 am – Roll by Boathouse and look longingly at the locked bathrooms.  If it’s illegal to urinate in public which includes the any part of the park, couldn’t they at least open the bathrooms when the park opens?  Yes, I know the park doesn’t officially open until 6 am, but the bathrooms aren’t open then either.  That leaves the unenviable choice of the using the boathouse parking lot and taking your chances with the RoUS’s (raccoons of unusual size) or a special spot near the entrance to the cut-off at the top of the park (note: be careful where you step if you ever find yourself walking on the trails near the cutoff.)

5:xx – (I’ve given up trying to figure out what time it is when I get to different spots as it requires too much effort to a) do and b) remember.)  Oh, the sweetness of the warm spot on the 86th street overpass.  Who cares if it’s our own little proof of global warming?  It’s warm and that has momentarily helped me forget that I’d rather be home.

5:xx – Still pitch black out.  Why does Harlem Hill seem so much harder than it really is?  Still no one around, except for the occasional odd runner.  Well at least, I’ve turned the corner and have one lap done.  I count by the number of times I’ve gone up the hill even though I’ve only done a half-lap at that point.  This must be why invariable I lose count.  Counting laps being the only real thing to do in the park, I ought to be able to remember.  I think I’m too young for Alzheimer’s but you never know because I never remember.

5:xx – First tri person passes me on the downhill on their way to Tavern for their 5:30 meeting with other bad tri riders.  Are there any triathlons left to do this year?  If not, can’t you all put your bikes away for the winter?

5:22 – End of lap 1.  Still dark out.  Still no one out.  I know what time it is because of the CNN clock which also lets me know that it’s 43o.  Darn Accuweather.com – you said 46o and I dressed light.  I hate you.

5:23 – Doubt starts to creep in about the feasibility of doing another lap without going completely insane.  Just as I decide it’s time to head in, lying to myself that I’ll hit the trainer later in the afternoon, Omar shows up.  That ought to take the edge off until the Boathouse.

I’d go on, but I’m even bored just writing about it.   That’s the conundrum of Central Park.  Without it, those of us who live in city would be totally screwed as far as training goes.  Where else (apart from Prospect Park except there there’s even less to keep you occupied and you have to ride twice as many laps) in the middle of one of the busiest metropolises can your ride more or less traffic free more or less any time you want without the need for light (sunlight or the rechargeable kind?)  And yet, the monotony of turning laps in the park will put you off your bike.

That’s why I can’t imagine how anyone, even someone getting paid, could possibly walk around the same four corners for the better part of a day.  That sounds as bad as the Empire State Games qualifier in Prospect Park.  22 laps.  About the only thing you get from that race is dizzy.

That’s today’s view from the back.

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