Code Yellow! Worldwide Lance Monuments Under Attack

It’s Code Yellow for guards of Lance Armstrong monuments across the world.  Velo News reports that vandals have vandalized the monument dedicated to the very spot where Lance Armstrong broke his collarbone in Spain during the 2009 Vuelta a Castilla y León.  “Jesus Cristos,” a local exclaimed while standing in the spot once marked by a bike valued at $59.95 set in priceless Spanish concrete near the small village of Antiguedad.  Through a translator the local official reported, “the roadside tribute to the pileup that broke Lance Armstrong’s clavicle has been reduced from near worthlessness to absolute worthlessness.”

In response, officials in charge of safe guarding The Worlds Largest Yellow Rubber Bracelet (along with the Worlds Largest Sharpie and Worlds Largest Laptop Computer) are braced for the worst and are keeping their eyes out for anything that could destroy the once thought unbreakable Livestrong treasure.  Management remains optimistic knowing that so far nothing known to man has been able to damage a Livestrong bracelet in any way, except for futzing with them for hours until they give.

In France, authorities at L'Alpe d'Huez trusted to the security of the commemorative spot of “The Look” have set aside their cigarettes and wine and are reportedly being more vigilant in case vigilantes attack the giant latex human eyeball set atop an authentic red, white and blue U.S. Postal Service mailbox erected in 2001 to commemorate Lance’s stern look back at a chasing Jan Ulrich.

Closer to home, it is rumored that staff at Mellow Johnnies Bike Shop in Austin have now locked the doors, put all Lance memorabilia in the padlocked shed out back and are standing guard with skinny noodle biker arms crossed at the doors and exits armed with chain whips and oversized 15mm pedal wrenches in case anyone decides to try something funny.

As of right now, some Radio Shack stores remain closed.  Greg LeMond could not be reached for comment.

Running a Corn Maze with a Jackhammer

I have serious going-postal thoughts that Cincinnati gets a big rain storm and a whole twisted network of mountain bike trails washes down the hillside into the Ohio River with a resounding splash.  KA-SPLOOOSH!  Buh-bye Tower Park. 

Oh my god it felt so good to say that I should have a cigarette and I don’t even smoke.  Certainly I can’t be the only one to feel this way.  Normally, I’m a very positive person and blogger.  Putting things down is not a trait I respect in people.   But, somebody had to say the baby is ugly.  Father, I confess, every time I see someone post on Facebook or talk about “hitting the tower” I can’t help but think I how much I hate riding Tower Park in Ft Thomas Kentucky.  Off with its head.  Time for a mountain bike Mulligan.

Before you berate me in the comments, hear my defense.  I feel like I’m a respected mountain biker and trail advocate in Cincinnati.  I have scars on my shins from trail tools.  At the same time, I’m pretty colorful and exaggerated.  Certainly I can’t be for real for having impure trail thoughts.  I admit it is a bit selfish.  Afterall, others obviously LOVE LOVE LOVE riding at Tower Park.  However, as a mountain bike trail, to me the only redeeming qualities of Tower Park are that it’s the closest trail to downtown Cincinnati and you get an incredible feeling of accomplishment and elation when you can clean the trail without dabbing.  

No doubt, if you can successfully eek your bike around the awkward, ugh, rocky, oof, rooty, twisted, steepness you can call yourself an expert rider.  I’ve felt that.  It’s wonderful.  I’ve cleaned the “otter slide” climb.  When the gods are smiling, I can get my triple-trailer of a 29er around the tight switchbacks up and down.  Tower’s rocks and roots and awkwardness, countless times, has given me the skill and confidence to take on larger mountain bike challenges like trails in Whistler B.C. (pictured Whistler's Rainbow Sproat Trail), Pisgah, West Virginia and the Mohican MTB 100.  When I first moved to Cincinnati, it was the first trail I rode.  It was where I first met the teammates and cycling friends I have today.  However, I seriously never have fun riding there.   To me, it’s nothing more than the mountain bike equivalent of boot camp.

The trail has all the flow of an 85 year old man standing in front of a urinal.  Go fast.  Stop.  Track stand.  Turn.  Dig for a grunter.  Chatter down the other side.  Hit the brakes.  Turn right.  No left.  Then right.  You’d have more fun running blindfolded through a corn maze with a jackhammer.  Secondly, aside from the switchbacks down to the river, you never feel like you’re going anywhere.  There are no real destination points.  Being on the Ohio River, you’d think there’d be a cool vista, a unique tree, a pretty creek, an odd shaped rock or something that tells you that you’ve gone from point A to point B.  Truth is, if you take your eyes off the trail for a second, you’ll be part of the landscaping. 

There are great trail organization in the Cincinnati/Northern Kentucky area called CORA (Cincinnati Off Road Alliance) and KYMBA (Kentucky Mountain Bike Association.)  I’m a CORA member and have put in plenty of sweat equity on a number of local trails including Tower.  I’ve spent hours and hours with goofy hand tools carving new trails in Covington’s Devou Park, Cincinnati’s Mitchell Memorial, East Fork State Park and Caesars Creek.  I sent $50 to IMBA this year.  Great organizations and I'm all about putting my time in, certainly I'm at least deserving of an opinion.

Like an NA on the report card, Tower Park needs attention, not just a quick fix to a section or two but some IMBA-type love, a redesign, cosmetic surgery.  Bring out the views.  Highlight the flora and landscape.  Take me from the Tower to the vista, across the ridgeline and through the valley.  I want to loosen my grip on the bars and have a second to discover the tree with the odd knob or the giant boulder with the crazy moss, before the next tough section.  The trails in Whistler are crazy sick twisted tough too, but they also reward with a view, a waterfall, a section to relax the knuckles for a moment to appreciate the ride.  I want to enjoy the challenge Tower Park offers.  

I’m not pointing fingers.  There’s no blame.  Tower Park is still just the backyard neighborhood trail it’s always been.  It can be better.  While I’m no trail designer or grassroots organizer, I am a voice.  Like an ugly baby, it’s still a blessing to have challenging mountain bike trails within 15 minutes of downtown Cincinnati.  Let this be my first step toward making Tower a fuller mountain biking experience.  

To lean more about trail advocacy projects, visit these links and give generously:

Cincinnati Off Road Alliance (CORA), part of Ohio Mountain Bike Association (OMBA)

Kentucky Mountain Bike Association (KYMBA)

International Mountain Bike Association (IMBA)

Goodbye Mr. Janglybag

Gears clanking, chain slapping, seat bag jangling, not too long ago I was on a big group ride and got stuck behind a rider with a noisy bike, Mr. Janglybag.  I couldn’t take it.  Rather than berating him for bad manners and his lack of packing skills, I sat-in till I found another wheel.  Sitting-in is a great way to save energy if you’ve got the sniffles, are the weaker rider in the bunch or just need to get behind or in front of someone else.  Unfortunately, many riders haven’t mastered the art of changing their position in the paceline without causing gaps or disrupting the pace.  Consequently they get dropped if they’re weak or start making enemies if they’re not cool about it. 

I sat-in to get away from Mr. Janglybag, but there are other reasons to sit in.  A lot of riders don’t even think about how the riders in front of and behind them in a paceline affect their experience.  Maybe a sprint is coming up and you’d rather have a teammate’s wheel.  Maybe the guy in front of you is squirrely and you’d rather be behind someone steadier.  Maybe you’re on the brink of getting dropped because the doofus behind you always jacks the pace after you take your pull and you’d rather have a smoother person behind you.  I’ve sat-in for all these reason and it works.  The trick to sitting-in is to be invisible. 

     X

     X

     X

     X

     X

     X

     X

Take these 7 riders for example, and excuse my lack of graphic art skills.  The GREEN X is taking their pull.  You’re (RED X) picking up the rear. 

     X

 X  X

     X

     X

     X

     X

GREEN X has finished their pull, has moved off the front and drifts to the rear.  You (RED X) need to be aware that it’s time to put on your cloak of invisibility and get ready to move to your left a bit. 

     X

     X

     X

     X

  X X

 X

GREEN X is now almost to the rear of the paceline.  You (RED X) move behind them and slightly to the left in their blind spot.  Then, drift to the rear with them.  As GREEN X gets ready to fall back in line, naturally he’ll look to the right to grab the wheel of the last rider he sees-the rider to his right at the moment. 

     X

     X

     X

     X

     X

   X

   X

Since you (RED X) were in the blind spot, GREEN X didn’t see you and simply moved behind the last rider he saw, the guy that used to be in front of you.  You move behind GREEN X.  The pace stays steady and you stay out of the wind.  If the people you’re riding with know you’re under the weather or a weaker rider, they won’t mind.  Or, if you’re just looking for another wheel, you can sit on till you’re between the riders you want to be.  Goodbye Mr. Janglybag.

The Easter Bunny Always Looks Both Ways

Thou shalt not run over adorable little girls going to church in floral patterned dresses.  I’m most certain had there been an 11^th commandment that would've been it.  From 21mph I squeezed the brakes.  As Daddy holding the little girls hand stood frozen directly in our path, I squeezed harder praying my wife behind wouldn’t touch wheels with me and we wouldn’t all become a twisted heap on the Lord’s front steps.  Total slo-motion.

“What are you people doing?  LOOK!”

That’s the words that escaped my lips after taking my first breath as we passed between.   At least I didn’t swear in front of a church on a blue sky Easter Sunday.  It was close.  Our bikes did touch.  Her front tire briefly graced the spokes near the non drive side of my rear hub.  I remember hearing the ratcheting sound.  It all happened so quickly.  I should have, but didn’t say anything, which is just like me.  I think I have the mindset that I can escape tricky situations and don’t hit the panic button.  Maybe it comes from my career in broadcasting, where freaking out on deadlines or dead-air only complicates matters.  Bike racing’s the same way, wasted breath is wasted energy.  Best to calmly deal with it rather than sounding the alarm I guess.  Maybe that Dad was the same way, waiting to see how I’d react so he’d know which way to yank her hand.  It was a shot at the buzzer.

I saw them between cars and they just stepped out in front of us.  We were only 2 to 3 cars, maybe two seconds away.  There was no where to go, no time to swerve or shout.  Daddy was to the left, the girl down the center of my wheel, a line of cars to my right.  I lightly grabbed the brakes trying to minimize the impact while at the same time trying to give my drafting wife a smoother deceleration into the rear of my bike.  Just in time Daddy tugged the girl further into the road and we passed inches to spare between daughter and the car.  Woosh.  The whole time mom and the other daughter dressed in pastel prints stood with mouths wide open on the sidewalk.  Aside from the noise of my wife’s wheel grating my spokes it was silent as a football floating through the uprights.  I looked back and shouted!  Church members on the other side of the road stood mouths and eyes wide open.  Easter tragedy avoided.

A hundred yards down the road, we stopped to asses any damages and gathered our wits.  The bikes were fine.  We were fine.  I looked back expecting a reaction, a finger, a “you okay,” an “I’m sorry,” but nothing.  We rode away.  Nothing needed to be said.  Judging from Mom’s shocked expression, no doubt every Easter Sunday from now on Daddy will get a reminder on how to look both ways before crossing the street.

Butt Cheek Tail Light LED Implants

I find a lot of tail lights.  Like finding change on the sidewalk or a golf ball in the brush, when I find a bike tail light, I don’t try to find the rightful owner either.  Mine all mine.  What goes around comes around.  In the jersey pocket it goes.  I think of the lights I find as the come-around for all the lights I or my wife has lost.  Reverse karma.  I find at least one per year.  We lose at least one per year.  It’s a Seinfeld breakeven.  The cycling universe is in complete harmony.

On Saturday, I found a light just off the bike path in Loveland.  Nothing great, it didn’t have a logo but it looks like your typical Planet Bike small 4 or 5 LED, two AAA battery clip-on type light.  The batteries were still good.  Woot!  Must’ve been a fresh kill.  Of course it was knocked loose when the owner got to close to the LED snatching zombies that hide out near the jarring railroad tracks.  It was in the grass.  No doubt they never even heard hit the ground.  Thank you.  It’s mine.  Nanny nanny boo boo.  I’m sorry, but in the last three weeks my wife has lost the red cover of TWO taillights.  Consequently there are two riders out there right now saying, “Cool!  I just found a new cover for my broken light!”  There’s no way I’m leaving this newly found light on the top of the next post or bench along the path for the “rightful owner to discover.”  Before you say Karma will get me, keep in mind Karma indeed is in full effect.  In my book, Karma still owes me another taillight, and I’m keeping my eyes out.

To increase my chances of finding MY other light, I’m on full tail light alert.  So, be warned.  Hold your tail lights close.  The five second rule does not apply.  If yours hits the ground, there’s a guy like me right behind you waiting to snatch it up.  If you’d prefer that I do not become the new owner of the tail light you possess, you can do a few things:

1) Don’t ride at night.  Instead stuff your tail light in your sock drawer forever.

2) Unless foggy or riding through a forest fire, don’t put your tail light on your person or seat bag when riding during the day.  If cars can’t see you in bright day light, you’re going to get run over anyway. 

3) If you must chance a ride at dusk, don’t use the clip-on to affix your light to your seat bag or rear jersey pocket.  We have used countless lights with the clip-on feature; none of them are any good.  Instead write a check for $14.95 to “Cash” and paper clip it to your jersey and ride around for a few hours.

4) Don’t use a tail light on a mountain bike ride.  Still can’t quite figure out why I found a tail light on the trail at East Fork State Park last fall, but thank you very much.  It lasted until my wife rolled over some railroad tracks two weeks ago and now it’s in someone elses hands I’m sure.

5) Avoid the tail light eating Zombies that hide out alongside railroad tracks and underpasses in counties where voters turned down the street improvement tax levy.

6) Mechanically fix your light to your bike or person.  Or, take it a step further.  Grab your light.  Go to the “hipster” side of town and have a local piecing artist implant the LED’s on the back of your neck or a few on each butt cheek.  Laugh now, but they already sell LED nose rings.  It’s just a matter of time.