iRide and iLikeit

It’s not any different than carpooling with the radio on.  What!  I said!  It’s not any different than carpooling with the radio on!!  Or, is it?  I like iRiding, riding with an iPod.  Even on group rides, it’s wonderful blissyness.  I can’t hear sirens, horns, bells, whistles, cars, people warning me of wheel-eating potholes, rednecks speeding in diesel trucks, tornados, landsides…nothing but the skank of the Long Beach Dub Allstars.  I’m completely deaf to the outside world.  Call me anti-social. 

I heard that.

iRide and iLikeit.  Riding with a beat can’t be beat.  I’m not the only one making my ride feel like a July 4^th movie blockbuster with a rockin’ soundtrack.  I see those skinny white wires sneaking through the neck of plenty of jerseys on group rides, up the back of the helmet and into rider’s noggins.  It’s mellowing, a distraction without being distracting.  I think it hones the focus by taking away some of the chaos and replacing it with a flowing rhythm that ties the beginning of the ride to the end.  The hurt hurts less.  The pedals turn over easier.  WHILE I MAY TALK LOUDER in mid-ride conversations, I still talk with other riders.  Last night, it made the 40 minute bullet train hammerfest from Cincinnati to New Richmond feel like 20 minutes.  I rode the entire Mohican 100 mountain bike race last year with an iPod and had my best race ever.  I credit some of that to the music.  The hike a bike turned to a jog.  The jarring water-bars became smooth speed bumps.  I freaked out less on surprise roots and trees.  I haven’t done the experiment yet, but my hypothesis is that wearing an I-pod while riding lowers my average heart rate by a coupla beats.  Over a six hour race, a little mellow can go a long way.

SHUFFLE & REPEAT

There seems to be two keys for iRiding.  A playlist on shuffle and repeat is one.  I don’t care what you’re into, you don’t want the music to end mid-ride if your playlist reaches the last song.  You don’t want the songs to come up in the same order every ride.  My playlist last night had a little Paulo Nutini (pictured), a bean of Weezer and a bite of Pit Bull.  It was a six hour playlist for a two hour ride.  There’s still four hours left for the next ride.  A salsa song came on as I bombed a steep downhill at 40mph.  Si-si!  Reggae, rap, teen angst and eclectic songwriters drove my ride.  I have different playlists for different rides.  Last night was all upbeat for the weekly fast racer ride.  On solo recovery rides, barefoot Jack Johnson and smoky Macy Gray lay down the recovery melody.

ONE LOVE ONE EAR

Your rattling mis-shifting drive train, a teammate grabbing your ear to organize a lead out, the shirtless river-rat in the mufflerless pick-up truck; obviously you need to hear some outside sounds to be safe, aware of problems and participate in the ride.  Just about every iRider I know only puts the bud in one ear.  I find the right ear is the best, not because I’m right handed, but because most pacelines rotate with the riders falling back and traffic approaching up on the left.  I never have it blasting loud, but I do have it loud enough to hear the music above the rumble of the road.  It’s usually at a crack under ¾ volume, plenty quiet to hear the approaching ambulance and you call me anti-social.

The Other Men Who Wore Yellow, My Yellow

This is my 2000 Tour De France yellow jersey.  While there are many like it, this one is mine.  Few have seen it.  Ten years ago, a friend of mine worked as a broker for a bank in Amsterdam and through some connections came to own it.  When we visited, he passed the jersey onto me as a gift.  Ten years later, the color is still bright.  It’s never left my closet…except for once.  I couldn’t resist.  I put it on to see if it fit.  It did.  But I attest!  No one saw me, except for my wife and cats.  The honor of wearing this jersey in public still rests with the four men who wore it that year.  Yep.  Four.  Can you name them?  Without checking online? 

Digging into it, this jersey, even though it’s a commemorative one without the nifty full-zip in the back, has a story to tell.  Until a few weeks ago, I really only knew Lance Armstrong won the tour in 2000 and dreamed of getting this jersey signed by him, maybe with the help of some friends traveling to this year’s Tour of California.  The more I thought about it, as much of an icon status as Lance is and deserves, Lance’s command on the Tour de France blended years together.  During the Lance years, it wasn’t only Lance.  Many men wore the yellow jersey.  There was Ulrich and now Contador, and a whole list of other yellow jersey heroes with not so household names…the other men who wore yellow. 

Until a few weeks ago, the opportunity to get Lance to sign my jersey never presented itself.  He was in France, I was at home.  He was in Leadville.  I was…at home.  We couldn’t connect.  I though it’s time to seize the day.  Carpe Diem!  Then it occurred to me.  This jersey is not about chasing Lance.  This jersey signifies a 3 week battle for the highest honor in cycling.  In 2000, Lance didn’t win it on stage one and hold it till Paris.  There were 180 or so riders in the tour that year.  Of those, three others earned the Yellow jersey in 2000.  Wouldn’t it be great to get it signed by all four men: David Millar, Alberto Elli, Laurent Jalabert and Lance Armstrong?  Where are they now?  Who the heck is Alberto Elli?  I thought it’s possible that I might be able to have the jersey signed by Lance and David Millar at the Tour of California, but Alberto Elli and Jaja…oh brother.  This is a task that could consume a man for a lifetime. 

David Millar won the opening Time Trial in the 2000 Tour De France while racing for Cofidis.  Imagine that.  He beat Lance, the former winner, in a time trial.  I can’t picture him not wearing Argyle.  Millar’s now with the US based team Garmin-Transitions.  I assumed he’d be racing the Tour of California.  Not so according to the start list on the TOC website.  Dang it.  He’s racing the Giro and after a crazy stage 3, currently sits in 3rd overall one second behind Vino, the current maglia rosa wearer.  Good for him!  Clearly, Millar has bigger aspirations than the Tour of California.  Clearly, I’ll have to find another way to get Mr. Millar to sign my jersey.

I know Laurent Jalabert isn’t racing anymore, but maybe he’s involved somehow in cycling.  Maybe he’ll be at the Tour of California.  Well if you remember, Jaja wore yellow for ONCE in 2000 after winning the Team Time Trial.  In 2001, racing for CSC, the Frenchman won on Bastille Day, an honor in France that’s only 2^nd to becoming a saint and comes with the benefits of free baguettes and wine for life.  In 2002 he retired after winning the polka dot jersey in the TDF.  In ’05 he finished 391^st in the New York Marathon.  In ’07 and ’08 he competed in Iron Man triathlon events, finishing 76^th at the World Championships in Kona.  Now Jaja is a commentator for French television.  Guess I’ll have to make arrangements for the jersey to return to France.

What about this other guy named Alberto?  Aside from being a handsome Italian, winning a stage in the 2000 Tour De Suisse and the overall in Tour de Luxembourg, Alberto Elli wore the yellow jersey for 4 days in the 2000 Tour De France as the 2^nd oldest rider in the peloton.  2000 was Alberto Elli’s career defining year.  His savvy experience got him into a 12 man breakaway.  At the end of the day, the Duetsche Telekom rider was highest placed on GC and the yellow was draped across his shoulders without ever winning a Tour stage.  No doubt wearing the yellow in 2000 was the highlight of Elli’s career.  When the race kicked up into the Pyrenees, Lance took over the honor.  Then things went down hill.  In 2001 police found banned substances in Elli’s hotel room during the Giro.  In ’05, he was sentenced to 6 months in prison for the offense.  But, it’s 2010.  Maybe Elli’s still around.  He is.  Alberto Elli is currently the directeur sportif for Preti Mangimi Italian continental team.  I see a trip to Italy in my future.  I can deal with that.

So, while I’d be wobbly legged honored if Lance would lean across the security fence at the Radio Shack team bus at the Tour of California and sign my 2000 Tour De France yellow jersey, it would only be a start for this autograph seeker.  For better or worse David Millar, Laurent Jalabert and Alberto Elli are just as big of a part of my yellow jersey’s history as Lance.  The jersey deserves to meet them too and I’m a patient man.

Facebook Friday! The Oddest Food I Ever Ate On A Ride Is...

I seriously thought it was a dirty diaper, but he doesn’t have kids I thought. How come it doesn’t smell. At the midway point of a 50 mile ride this spring my buddy pulled what appeared to be a day old Pampers out of his middle jersey pocket. He began to unwrap it. Nearly gagging and horrified, I watched and the puzzle began to unravel. No. Wait. Fhew. It’s just a plastic bag with a brown soaked paper towel inside. “What the hell is that?” I asked. “It’s a Belgian waffle,” he exclaimed as he took a chomp. “With syrup?” “Yeah!” he muffled swallowing.


I’ve eaten some weird stuff on rides. My favorite is a heat lamp meatloaf sandwich they sell at a Marathon truck stop in Mentor, KY. It’s nothing delicious, a plain ‘ol brown man sandwich, meatloaf with some tacky sauce on a bun. Maybe it’s the combination of being 50 miles from home and drained of calories, but that meatloaf sandwich does wonders, especially with an ice cold Coke. It’s never caused me problems on the way home either. It may not even be real ground beef. Maybe that’s why it appears to digest as fast as any other energy food. I get it everytime I do that long ride down to Shaboberle hill. There’s nothing better than sitting on the curb outside, watching traffic go by on the AA highway and enjoying that sad excuse for a sandwich.


Thinking of the dirty diaper and meatloaf, certainly I can’t be the only one to enjoy a bizarre treat on a bike ride. So, we put the question out to the Facebook Fans of The Best Bike Blog Ever*.


"The oddest food or food combo I've eaten on a ride is..."


Corey I didn't eat it, but a friend had Creme Brulee from the downtown convenience store in Felicity, OH.

Judi Oatmeal cream pies (they have lots of sodium!)…sour gummy bears and airheads.

Charley
Pickles at the aid stations during the Ouachita Challenge in Arkansas.


Harold
Tried celery with peanut butter, each one foiled individually. Twas' good! Reeses cups in my jersey pockets on a 90 degree day--epic bad.


Ryan
In college I had 2 double cheese burgers from Burger King in my back jersey pocket. It was literally one of the best rides I ever had in college. Somehow I managed to hang with the "A" racers on the climbs…


Rick
I eat peanut butter and bacon bagel sandwiches. Sounds weird but once you try it you're hooked.


Butch
The same meatloaf sammi @ the same Marathon as u! lol! Apparently its a staple out there!


John  Ate crawdads while on Cycle Zydeco. (TBBBE says: "Ah-yeee!")

Banning The Butt-Pat

Without a doubt, there’s one thing that scares most bike riders: looking totally fat in bike shorts.  No.  I’m sorry.  The one thing that scares riders is that they one day might feel compelled to buy a jersey with a psychedelic red eyed tree frog on the back.  No.  Really.  The one thing that scares most riders is carnage.

Which brings me to my next point, the one thing that most club and new riders have in common is looking as flamboyant as Cameron on Modern Family in a XXXL Primal jersey.  No.  Seriously, the one thing that most new riders have in common is the butt-pat.  Now I don’t know what numb-nut started this whole butt-pat paceline pull-off thing, probably the same douche that invented the tree frog jersey, but it must stop.  Dear Ricky Bobby and little baby Jesus it must stop.  Don’t make me print up anti-butt-pat t-shirts and jerseys and sell them out the trunk of my car at the next club century ride, because I will.  You might think the reason I disdain the butt-pat is because it’s totally Cameron and draws attention to your fat thread bare Lycra covered caboose.  In all reality, it’s what could happen after the butt-pat that gives me the heebie jeebies.  The butt-pat could lead to four men sitting cross-legged in Lycra sipping espresso at the café while discussing last night’s episode of Cougar Town.  It could, but aside from that, the butt-pat, like a 50% off Nashbar tree-frog jersey, is pretty much a disaster waiting to happen.  Think about it.  If I really wanted to get some pro-looking road rash scars and maybe a nifty shoulder bump the first thing I would do is get in front of a group of riders, take my eyes off the road to look back, let up on the pedal cadence, contort my body to throw off my equilibrium and center of balance and attempt to pat my own ass at 25mph. 

A wise veteran rider and regional pro level racer once told me, “Always hook your thumbs.”  It’s Guinness Beer type “brilliant!”  Notice that he said thumbs, not thumb…but thumbssssssssss.  Secondly, notice he said hook, not rest or gently curl, but hook.  The one bit of latitude is that you can probably get away with hooking fingers if you’re on the hoods, unless you have gangly baboon thumbs that can reach around a hood.  I can’t say how many times this has saved me from certain George Hincapie with a broken steerer tube type death.  If this is too hard to imagine, the key is to actually…physically…hang on to your handlebar. 

But you’re a good rider, you couldn’t, wouldn’t possibly crash by not hooking your thumbs or fingers.  That’s silly.  I ride around all the time just resting my hands across the tops and hoods.  I can pat my ass when I ride.  Well if you look closely at the following video, you’ll notice the rider looks super cool in the first bunch across the climb with his hands resting on the tops just before he, Saxo Bank super star Jens Voight, goes all silly rag doll down the road at what appears to be 900mph at the top of a mountain in the 2009 Tour De France. 

When that first aired, commentators remarked and pointed out as French television rolled back the wreck footage over and over and over again that there was a bump or raised crack in the road that caused him to crash.  Really?  It’s the Tour de France.  It’s like 2500 miles long, with I’m pretty sure, an equal number of bumps in the road, not to mention the fact that the ten or so guys in front of him all seemed to navigate the pit-fall without incident.  I’m sorry, but I’m darn tootin’ certain that the reason Jens, one of the most respected riders in the pro-peloton, crashed and ended up in the hospital is because he wasn’t holding on to the handlebars.  Thumbs, fingers…not hooked.

Now, I’m not one to use scare tactics or make light of tragedy, but I am one to point out the ridiculous things that irrationally filter from one rider to the next, like horrible looking theme jerseys, 30 cubic foot seat bags, and patting your own ass while in front of a bunch of your best riding buddies.  If you want to signal to the closet Cougar Town watching tree frog jersey wearing guy behind you that it’s his turn to take a pull, flick your elbow.  The pro’s sometimes do that.  Even still you’d be missing out on one of the most beautiful parts of group cycling: a buttah smooth look back and butt-pat free zenlike flowing paceline.  I have found no better example than this video featuring one of my favorite riders, Danny Pate in the Tour of California.  It’s so awesome to watch, that I could delete every episode of Modern Family and Cougar Town from my DVR and replace it with a six hour loop of this.  Enjoy and keep your hands off your fanny.

Gee Your Chamois Smells Terrific

There’s mountain biking on a Colorado morning enveloped in the aroma of a dewey pine forest.  Then there’s a coffee ride downtown behind a truck belching black diesel exhaust.  There’s the aromatic scent of riding a park bike path through a grove of lilac bushes.  Then there’s being behind the retired local bike nut that can’t bring himself to wash let alone throw his reeking Mapai kit away.  There’s good manure, when riding past posh Lexington, Kentucky horse farms.  There’s bad manure, Eastern Kentucky chicken farms.  One of my favorite rides rolls past the Precinct Steakhouse in the beginning and finishes with fresh chocolate chip cookies at the Kellogg factory in Fairfax.  At a cyclocross race back in '03 some racers jumped the gun mistaking a rider's pre-race hearty beefy toot for the starters pistol.  From florescent green algae covered frog ponds to cemented urban rivers, many rides are defined by their nose.   Love ‘em, hate ‘em, smile or cry burning tears, they’re part of the experience.

Usually its nature, or the city or “that guy” that’s the source of the olfactory experience, until this past Thursday’s ride, where the smell emanated from moi.  No, I was not wearing a funkified freak show decade’s old Mapai kit.  However, someone had the gall to ask me, “What detergent do you use?”  At first I felt a moment of hesitation.  I quick sniffed my pits.  Was it a leading question, leading to, “do you even use detergent?”  I braced for the worst and dusted my thoughts for a comeback or at least an excuse.  Before I could respond gracefully, she added, “No.  I mean your kit smells nice.  What detergent do you use?” 

I was floored.  I’ve been asked about embrocation, training techniques, favorite routes, bar tape and the best place to pee on this stretch of road.  You name it.  This was the first time someone enquired about laundry detergent and the fine fragrance of my fanny, halfway through a ride I might add.  My riding friends from Cincinnati’s hometown Proctor and Gamble will be pleased to know we use new Tide Sport with Febreze, or maybe it's Tide Febreze Sport.  Well after further research, the Tide website calls it "NEW Tide plus Febreze Freshness Sport Liquid Laundry Detergent."  It boasts that, "Tide plus Febreze Freshness SPORT is specially formulated to fight tough sports stains like grass, dirt, clay, and blood."  No mention of roink reek or taint rot on the label, but apparently it works on bike shorts too.  After I caught my breath from reading the brand name, I saw it has a picture of a great smelling pretty woman jogger on the label.  You can tell she smells wonderful because her shirt is green and it appears she's running on a cloud, which we all know is the worlds best smelling environment for working out in the world.  It's a heck of a lot less expensive than Sportwash and single stinky gentlemen take note, it’s obviously a hit with the ladies.