The lower reaches of the Beartooth, between ass-kickings

This past weekend I learned a number of lessons here in my new home state of Montana. Or perhaps relearned these lessons—lessons of my own mortality; of my fragility; of my limitations. Full of hubris and vigor I entered the 2010 Beartooth Challenge, an 8.2 mile uphill run over 2,500 vertical feet followed the next day by a grueling, ~33K, 4,500+ vertical foot uphill time trial from Red Lodge, MT to the East Summit of the Beartooth Pass at around 10,800 feet. Silent and still, the Beartooth felt me on its back. It saw my face and sensed my fire. And then it wheeled around and bitch-slapped me back to reality.

The race results went well enough—5th in my age group for the run (30-34), 6th in the time trial (21-30), and 5th place overall (for the men) in the Challenge. I also beat my friend Rick—more a runner than a cyclist, to be sure, but a high-altitude hardman by any standard who recently completed the infamous 20-mile “Ridge Run” here in Bozeman—by about 6 minutes overall. But as I pedaled squares at 10kph into a frigid 35º headwind up the last brutal 6K from 9,200 to 10,800 feet, the Beartooth reduced my rasping lungs and burning thighs from competition to survival. I am humbled. That is one hard motherfucking race.

A chronicle exists of these lessons, sent as text over the course of the weekend:

To Le Frank, 8/28, 7:30pm

Live texts from the top of the pass, scouting for tomorrow. Initial thoughts: holy fucking shit. This is the uphill time trial of all uphill time trials. Large doses of Rule 5.

To Le Frank, 8/28, 7:32pm

Lessons from today’s run: first, an abject lesson in Rule 42. Running is a dumb activity, and should only be practiced while drunk and/or being pursued by the law.

To Le Frank, 8/28, 7:33pm

Secondly, altitude matters. Rule 5 was rewarded today with a feeling not unlike inhaling a fist full of nails.

To Le Frank, 8/28, 7:40pm

I am well positioned for tomorrow. Not sure who is riding from today’s group, but I can’t be too far out. Ready to hammer. Wish me luck in feats of Voigtian strength. Amerkx.

To Le Frank, 8/28, 7:45pm

Also, one final lesson from today: do not leave a canister of bear mace on the dashboard of a hot car. It will explode.

To Le Frank, 8/29, 6:15am

Ready to go. Feeling great, no major soreness from the run. A slightly strange feeling when I accelerate, but I’m sure I’ll loosen up in the first few kilometers. Not going to be a problem. I start at 7:08.

To Le Frank, 8/29, 11:08am

AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH! AHHH!! My guns! Ahhhhh hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…

To Frank, 8/29, 2:30pm

Lessons from day 2: see lessons from day 1. e.g. running sucks, don’t mace yourself.

To Le Frank, 8/29, 2:32pm

Addendum to lessons from day 2: don’t bring a knife to a gun fight. Fuck that was hard.

Coda: Rules That Go Without Stating: Don’t Fucking Mace Yourself

Rick films grizzly bears for a living, so he’s pretty comfortable with bear mace; me, not so much. Bear mace is basically Oleoresin Capsicum—that is, the chemical capsaicin (the stuff that they measure to come up with Scoville Heat Units to tell you that Habeneros are hardman food), suspended in a waxlike substance. Shit smells terrible, and is all but impossible to get rid of. And it’s all over the dash of my car.

Now, you think of bear mace as a problem for your eyes, nose, and mouth—and it is—but it is also a no-fucking-around skin irritant. Which I discovered. When the canister exploded, it apparently soaked my headlamp…which I later put on, only to have a two inch band of skin around my head burn like fire for the next five hours on the night before the time trial. Lesson learned. Don’t fucking mace yourself.

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Grom applies The V to the tubs. Photo by Kris.

With La Vuelta in full swing and the Worlds only weeks away, there are more than a few riders who will be feeling the effects of a long, hard season.  Months of training, travelling and racing take a physical and mental toll that we, as mere mortals, can only begin to imagine.  But without the vital roles of the support staff assembled by the big Pro Tour teams, the riders would find it near impossible to perform at the levels they do all year.  And probably the hardest working, and possibly most important members are the oft-maligned, sometimes forgotten mechanics.

My friend and trainee Velomihottie Rachel is a bit of a cycling aesthete, but she’d never admit that. She will make her own arm and knee warmers, but then fret over whether her Ekynox glasses are too white or not. But she can ride most of us under the table, and with style and modesty. One day she casually dropped into the conversation that her old school-friend was featured in a photo on the Rouleur website. Why is that, who is he? I asked.  ”He’s a mechanic for the Garmin team.”  Oh, and you didn’t mention this before because?

Of course, we here at the Velominati were positively frothing at this connection, and email correspondence was promptly initiated, and an interview kindly granted.  Even though Kris ‘Grom’ Withington was in the middle of a grueling season, he was still more than happy to answer our (and our community members’) questions, some of them typical fare, others a bit left-of-centre.  We tried not to embarrass ourselves too much, but Kris didn’t seem to mind at all; that’s the laid-back Kiwi style epitomised.

So here is our little chat with ‘Grom’, and we thank him for taking the time to lay down The V in word format.

Keepers:  Wrenching on bikes every day for a living, does that make you more or less finicky when it comes to your own bikes? Are they perfect, or do you maintain them as little as you can get away with?

Kris:  I think less finicky, not out of laziness (maybe a little).  But I don’t want to be fixing my own stuff when I’m at home unless it’s really necessary.  Ride smooth and with a bit of class.   Always buy exactly what you want so you don’t need to change much, do a good job assembling it and get the good gear as well, pump up the tires and a bit of clean oil on the chain and that’s about it.  Of course my road bike has never been out in the rain…   So yes I maintain them as little as possible.  Probably like a builder’s house eh?

Keepers:  One of the mechs at a local shop in Seattle absolutely hates cutting steerer tubes down. He’ll do whatever he can to make sure he’s busy with other tasks, leaving that chore to the shop manager. What is your least favorite thing to do when working on a bike?

Kris:  I hate fitting cleats up to the rider’s shoes.   Most guys will do it themselves but sometimes they leave their shoes at the truck for us to do.   I used to be nervous about cutting steerer tubes, now the whole process takes about 2 minutes.  You don’t even need to put the bike in the workstand!   Maybe it’s different with someone else’s bike that they have paid money for though.

Keepers:  We have a pretty substantial set of Rules at Velominati, are there any rules of your own that you adhere to strictly when it comes to wrenching?

Kris:  One or two; always use the best quality tools you can afford. I have a set of Allen keys that cost around 100 Euro but there’s no way I would use anything else.   And whenever you fit up a tubular, make sure it’s straight and pump it up as hard as you can for maximum contact.

Also, never touch a mechanics toolbox without asking.  The amount of tools that have magically disappeared over the years from my case is amazing.   So now if I see anyone messing in my case, there’s going to be fuckin murders!

Keepers:  What is the most quirky request that any rider routinely asks of you (for his bike)?  Will you tell us who that rider is?

Kris:  Well I can’t name names, but there are one or two riders who like their saddle slightly off to the left for some reason.   And more and more guys are switching to Osymetric chainrings, which suck balls to get working properly.

Keepers:  You’re an avid mountain biker (and singlespeeder at that).  Do you keep a mountain bike stowed away deep in the truck when at stage races or is it all work and no play?

Kris:  Before July, no chance. We are full-on at the start of the season, then into the classics, then the Giro, then Dauphine or Suisse and onto the Tour de France.  Once July is behind us though we (and the whole Pro Tour scene for that matter) relaxes a little, so yip I might be able to sneak my mountain bike in there for the Tour of Britain or Franco-Belge.

Keepers:  Do mechanics get any where with podium girls?

Kris:  Does giving them a bit of a smile and wink and a whistle count?

Keepers: Is a beer required after a day of stage race wrenching?  Or is it mandatory?

Kris:  The staff fridge in the bus always has cold beers ready after we close the truck for the night, for sure.

Keepers:  Being a mountain biker and singlespeeder, what do you think of the gulf that still exists between roadies and mountain bikers, i.e roadies dismissing mtb as a second rate discipline, and mtb’ers dismissing roadies as ‘gay’?

Kris:  I don’t know if gulf is the right word, its just two different sports that are always growing further apart. You cant really compare road cycling and ‘proper’ mountain biking, you know real trail riding and back country exploring, so a road rider cant say that’s second rate, second rate to what?   On the other hand, a professional road cyclist in a Pro Tour team is making a waaaay better salary than most pro mountain bikers, so they can’t really say ‘gee your gay’, as the said roadie is leaving the race in their 2010 Ferrari.   But these super aero paper thin skinsuits we are using for the time trials – gay.

Kris is looking forward to getting the last of the season’s big races done and dusted, and will be heading back down to his hometown of Rotorua in October, where he will be downing more than a few beers and having a ride at the SSWC 2010.

Kris:  My girlfriend just entered for that actually! I should be able to make it back to Roto in time for the big day on the 23^rd.  I’m in no decent shape for racing but the party should be good!

*This next question is from Frank, and a few of the other Keepers were concerned that it might be bordering on ridiculous, so blame Frank if you agree!

Cyclists – especially roadies – are notoriously worried about their weight.  I can only imagine what the chatter is like on the ProTour.  Does this sickly, teenage-girlish weight obsession spread into the rest of the team staff, including the mechs?   You are a pretty lean guy, but I wonder – when surrounded by the pros day and night, do you feel that you are too fat to climb, or are you secure with your weight?

Kris:  It doesn’t matter shit that we are surrounded by pro bike riders, they have a job to do and we have a job to do.  It’s just a job and there are days on the Grand Tours when I don’t even see the riders for days on end.   So you can’t go around idolizing them or checking what they look like because it’s their problem, not ours.   If I can jump out of the car and run up to a crash quickly and climb in and out of the cabin of the truck no worries, then I am ok.   A little bit of bike riding between races and in the off season seems to take care of that for me.

Keepers:  And finally, are there any of our Rules that you think are applicable to the riders on your team, or on others, that they do/should abide by?  Is Rule 5 a given?

Kris:  Ha yes!   Im going to print off  The Rules and tape them up in the truck, and when they come over whining about something, I can merely take my long 10mm allen key and point to Rule 5, in silence for extra grizzliness.

There you have it, Millar, VDV, Ryder, Deano, Farrar and Co. all are required to abide by The V, or risk the wrath of a 10mil-weilding mechanic!  No wonder their results have been improving in the late season since this interview…

Thanks again Kris, see you in RotoVegas for a beer or two!

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Post-pain camaraderie. It's all worth while after it's over.

The Velominati are proud to present the following guest article by community member Marcus, who also writes for the Squadra di Vecchi Tori blog. Here is a tale of a man who embarks in 6-man open race. Of the five starters, one drops out to make it a 5-man race, but the race still manages to become a journey deep into the darkest pits of the Pain Cave, where a podium place will still be denied to two of the contestants.

Racing is a difficult thing to get started with.  It takes courage, and it hurts.  But the various local club scenes around do provide an incredibly fun and laid-back environment for an easy way to wade into the pool.  For those of you on the brink: take the plunge, you won’t regret it.  The race itself may not be “fun” in the traditional sense, but inhaling a wasp will provide a lasting feeling of pride for The V well applied.

Provided you don’t crash and wreck your favorite bike.

So, enjoy the piece, and swing by the Squadra.

–

Disclaimer
I am an ordinary bike rider who would be a lot better if I devoted as much time to training as I do to internet-related bike “research”. Would be even better if I ate less crap food and drank less beer – but to my mind, I would be far less enjoyable to be around. At least that is my justification. You go get your own.

The purpose of this article is to get a few laughs at my own expense whilst I explain the goings-on of a little race over the weekend. Before I do, I need to give the game away by providing the result and some essential details – just so it is clear that I am not making any misrepresentations about my riding achievements.

The Result
I snagged 3rd against “all comers” in the 35-39 year old category at Southern Vets Road Race Club Championships. Now for a club that has regular races won by the likes of former Olympians, Australian Road & TT champs and other assorted former pros, that result sounds pretty good, doesn’t it?

However, honesty dictates that I must tell you that in the 35-39 yo category, this year the “all comers” consisted of exactly 6 racers, one of whom dropped off in the second kilometre of the race. So it really was a “best of 5”. There, that feels better.

The Preparation
My warm up consisted of a 4am wake up with my 4 year old son for some cry time for a few hours. 6am and he is finally asleep on the couch with me just as my wake up alarm goes off. I think I will grab five minutes shut eye before I get up. 6:50am (FUCK) I wake up and the rush is on.

7:10am. Little fella is still asleep along with my two other kids and the darling wife (yes the one who inspired the cartoons – but she really isn’t that bad – honest). Forced to employ my Ninja Silent House Escape Technique and then I was on the road. Only running about 10 minutes late so actually not too bad but I needed to eat on the road rather than at home. No biggie.

During the 70km drive to the course, I reflected on the preparation I had given myself for this race during an extended two month taper by logging a good 150kms per week over that time with only one other race.

This lack of miles could have been attributed to one or more of the following:
i) general indolence;
ii) the wettest Melbourne winter in about 20 years;
iii) repeated preparations of lotsa beer before the weekend long ride, resulting in no ride.

I maintained this preparation by having a very heavy night on the beers/wine on Friday to wake up with a solid hangover Saturday. This somewhat damaged my pre-race nutrition as an overwhelming need for fatty foods and soft drink won out over healthy eating.

Photo taken from a training ride a while back. Turns out I wasn’t peaking in two months time.

So I wasn’t in great shape, but wasn’t too bad as I had been keeping up some sort of training program – even if it was at 150ks a week, at least it was done to a plan, as I have been using a coach for the last 10 months. I know, I know , it is embarrassing to say I have employed a coach, but I highly recommend it to anyone at any level wanting to improve their cycling. It has done heaps for me – even if I have gone nowhere near his recommended mileage for the last 4 months.

Quick aside on my coach – for you non-Aussies. He is the 1991 Aussie Road and TT champ, rode in the TTT at the Barcelona Olympics and among other races, won the Amateur Tour of Austria. Take a look at the photo below. Anyone who can pull of a GC win in a race which included some pretty serious cols against crazy and Russians has his fair share of Rule 5 credentials. Anyway, he still pretty much dominates the local crit scene down here. But enough on him, more on me.

Gratuitous insertion of a photo of a real cyclist.

OK, so maybe the reason I put in that aside about Crowe was so I could insert a photo of a real cyclist.

The Pre-Race
Whilst I was expecting decent numbers and a nasty race against some pretty good A-graders, I was surprised to find there were only 6 riders in my category. I was also a little disappointed in the unadulterated joy I felt on discovering this fact. Shouldn’t I have been wanting more competition? No fucking way. They were handing out medals today, people, and now I had a chance. And I checked – the medals didn’t say how many were in the field.

Race Tactics
Crowey has given me many good tips about when to attack – however a big problem of mine is that by nature I am an impulsive little fellow who often gets a little too excited too early. But anyway I (wrongly) distilled Crowey’s tips for the day to “when in doubt, attack” – as it makes you a better cyclist in the end. Ok, he does say a lot more than that, but I am paying for him and you aren’t so find your own coach.

The Race
The six of us were set off first with the other age groups coming behind. This was a bit of a challenge as the older age groups had more numbers and a few better riders (illogical that they would be faster, but likely to be true). From the get go, we all worked pretty evenly swapping turns. I was at my limit from the start, sitting at an average HR of about 175 (gulp!) from the start with a speed sitting on 38-42kph.

After Rider no. 6’s strategic withdrawal, Rider no. 5 (Alf) also left us after about 25ks. His exit was particularly honorable as he said, “Guys I am fucked, but I really want you to stay away from the guys behind – so I will pull at the front for as long as I can.” So he is screwed and instead of just flaying away on the back, he jumps to the front and takes it to about 44kph for a few minutes before pulling off. Chapeau Alf!

This left four of us to fight over 3 medals. I know, I know, once again 6 entrants doesn’t exactly make it that meritorious – but these are bright shiny medals folks!

So the four of us kept on at about 38-40kph. I was pretty sure that this pace was unsustainable for me for 70kms with so few riders in the bunch. However, my self-tuition, nay worship, at the Alexandre Vinokourov School of Race Tactics convinced me that surging just a little bit every time I went to the front might be a good idea even though I was tiring (WTF?). Thought it might make it a bit tougher for the guy on a Giant who was rolling over behind me. At this stage, he was just hanging on and I thought we might get rid of him. Was hoping this might see me then hang onto the two stronger riders and try my luck from there. But Mr Giant stuck tight.

At about kilometre 50 things suddenly started to get a little ropey for me and we all dropped back in pace a bit with the other two guys, Mr Big (who was friggin enormous) and a Kings Men rider (the Kings are a pretty good bunch of riders in Melbourne – if you wear a Kings Men top then odds are you can go a bit) doing a bit of work.

Then just before kilometre 60 we hit a couple of slight hills – and when I say slight, I mean slight – turns out the larger of the two was about 700m at 2.5%. I attacked on the first and they came back to me – then the pace was sustained on the second little rise – not knowing the course and finding out there was a second hill was more than a little disappointing for me after my half-arsed attack on the first.

At which point the Vinokourov Race Tactics claimed their first then second victim. Unfortunately, First Victim was me. So I tried to recover for a few ks, keeping the Giant guy (Second Victim) in sight a hundred or so metres ahead. He was looking behind pretty regularly so I thought I had a chance of getting him. Got near to him at kilometre 67 and he was slowing a bit, so I had as much of a crack as I could whilst legs were close to cramping and I was at my limit. It worked – he couldn’t latch onto me as I went past and I ground it out to the finish on my own – behind Mr Big who it turns out outfoxed the Kings Man in the sprint.

My race: 71.7kms in 1:52:14 at an average pace of 38.3kmh. But the key stat was that my average HR over that time was 174. In other words, that hurt quite a bit!

Mr Big and Kings Man said they were surprised when I was dropped as I was the one doing all the surging when we were swapping turns. I responded that I knew I was going to have trouble holding the pace for the whole race, so why not go down swinging and see if I could get rid of someone? They looked at me like I was an idiot! They may well have been right!

Over a post-race beer, Mr Giant said he had to apologise for the 50+ mental obscenities that he directed my way whilst I was surging in the group and another 20 or so after I passed him near the end. I said that’s ok, as I kept on saying to myself one more effort and we will drop the prick on the Giant. All good fun.

Highlight for me was at the presentation seeing how you can still have a go no matter how old you are – there was a winner of the 80+ category! You are never too old to race!

For those of you thinking about it, I highly recommend you get yourselves into gear and have a crack at racing. Unless you live in an area inhabited by arseholes, club racing is particularly welcoming and remember – everyone had their first race once. The beers afterward are the best you’ll drink all week!

Laurent Fignon in the 1989 Tour de France, the closest in history.

Laurent Fignon passed away today at the age of 50, after suffering from cancer for several years. Fignon was an amazing rider, and a true all-rounder. He won year-round, in stage races, time trials, and one-day classics. His victories include wins in the Giro as well as the Tour, and classics like La Fleche and San Remo. He also recently published a book, “We Were Young and Carefree”. I find it more than a little bit ironic that I finally purchased that book last night.

Fignon holds a special place in cycling as the man who twice won Le Tour, and once lost it by the narrowest margin in the race’s history. That particular race also holds a special place in my own history with the sport, as this was the first Tour that I was aware of, not to mention that it was won by Greg LeMond – an American and a guy I knew from the local ski racing circuit. As the battle waged on and we followed the race in the newspapers, Fignon’s name held a prominent place as the guy who would likely win the race, given the lead he held going into the last Time Trial. Given this early introduction, his name has been with me for almost my entire cycling life.

Fignon also holds another special place in my heart. In 2003, my Velomihottie and I went to France for the month of July to sit in a Gite in Aspet, France for a month, ride, and watch the Tour. Tour coverage there is predictably comprehensive, starting early in the morning and continuing on well into the night. Fignon was the host of one of the pre-race shows, called “Se Fignon le Dit”, or, “What Fignon Says” (or something to that effect, I’m not very good at French).

It was awesome. He sported an absolutely terrible haircut and ugly little round sunglasses. Prior to each show, he and his cameraman would engage in a little artsy introduction where the camera would zoom in and out and move about from side to side to create a bit of a disorienting effect. Fignon apparently didn’t quite understand that the camera could zoom in and out without moving closer to him physically, so he would peck his head fore and aft, trying the manually create the zoom effect. What resulted was the camera zooming in and out while Le Professeur also moved in and out, creating fishbowl effect that made him look like an Emo trying to poke it’s head through a gate.

With that, I speak on behalf of everyone here at the Velominati to send our condolences to his wife, Valerie, and the rest of the cycling community. Today, we lost an icon of our sport. Rest in Peace, Professeur.

Update: photos from L’Equipe.

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LeMond and Indurain climb to the ski resort at Luz Ardiden

There are several moments in my childhood when I realized the bike held a more meaningful place in my life than the other fancies and desires one experiences growing up; those instants that somehow stand out from the others in the endless stream of memories that hold greater significant than the rest.

One such moment was when I realized that my first bike, a Seventies-era Raleigh 531, had a brakeset that didn’t look like those on the modern bikes I saw in magazines – the break cables sprung up from the brake levers and weren’t hidden neatly away under the handlebar tape. Unable to tolerate this condition, I saved my pennies and, when I had enough money, was off to County Cycles to buy a pair of aero brake levers and a few rolls of Benotto handlebar tape. I still remember the clerk’s name, and exactly where in the shop the bar-tape was stowed.

Another such defining moment was the first time I watched an uphill finish of the Tour de France live on television. I remember watching the stage and the palpable excitement of watching a race unfold that is only possible if you don’t already know the outcome. It left a particularly big impression because live cycling coverage wasn’t available in the US; I was in Europe visiting family and aside from the various perks of being back in The Motherland, there was sun-up to sun-down coverage of a race I had only ever read about before.

I think the aesthetics of the 1990 Tour will for ever be my favorite, for the irrational yet unavoidable reason that the images from that race are more vividly implanted in my mind than any other.  Early in the stage, Claudio Chiappucci, wearing the Yellow Jersey, took off over the Aspin and the Tourmalet, causing confusion for the racers behind, who no doubt were trying to decide if it was a brilliant move or an insane one.  A chase was organized and, on a descent where he reached speeds of 108 km/h using his (totally rad) Scott Drop-In bars in an insane shoulders-over-the-bars tuck, the defending champion Greg LeMond caught the Maillot Jaune in the town of Luz Saint Sauveur, at the bottom of the climb to Luz Ardiden.

I remember an aerial shot where Chiappucci was leading the group, when Fabio Para launched an attack on the right-hand side of the road.  Almost as if he predicted it, LeMond reacted in perfect unison with the move and followed him up the road.  Marino Lajaretta followed, and soon everyone else in the group moved across to follow. Everyone except Claudio Chiappucci.

LeMond took control of the race.  He piled on the pressure, hands on the tops, shoulders rocking as his gray and yellow Brancale shoes dished out helping after helping of The V as rider after rider dropped off the back. Eventually, only Indurain remained on his wheel, his fluid pedaling style the antithesis to LeMond’s gear-mashing madness.

It remains for me perhaps the coolest finale I’ve yet seen.  If I was pressed to name my favorite race, I would probably list of about two dozen scenarios in a stream-of-consciousness list and never make up my mind, but any time I see a photo from the climb to Luz Ardiden in 1990, there’s something that connects to it more strongly than any other race (with the possible exception of when we were at the roadside of the Tour for the first time.)

By 1990, I had unceremoniously dumped the 531 (anyone familiar with the term “regret”?), and my current steed was a black Cannonwhale white paint splatters and hot-pink decals, the first bike I had purchased with my own money.  Upone my return home from Europe, I bought a pair of Drop-Ins for my cherished steed.  I also immediately purchased rolls of white tape, a San Marco Regal saddle, and adorned the bars with the black and yellow Scott stickers that looked so cool on LeMond’s bike.  I also stopped pedaling above 60 rpm, and made a study of rocking my shoulders in LeMond’s style.

Looking at this photo now, I see so many things I like, and so many things that are different from today’s race scene.  The C-Record group with my favorite brakeset ever, the Delta’s.  Also present are their accompanying white hoods of my favorite-ever brakelevers.  The way their rubber hoods were a bit loose and the levers protruded from them is, for my money, the classiest look in cycling.  Full-zip jerseys were an innovation at the time, and the fit was much looser (and cooler) than in modern jerseys.  Overall, less emphasis was placed on maximum speed and minimum weight; while those things were important, they weren’t sacrificed for comfort and aesthetics.

Another thing I’m reminded of is LeMond’s total disregard for symmetry.  One of the cornerstones of my aesthetic sensibility is the notion that things ought to be centered and balanced; a yin for every yang, and everything in it’s place.  LeMond, it seems, had no such inclination.  His cycle computer is not centered.  The Scott stickers on the Drop-Ins are not aligned.  The tape doesn’t wrap the brake cables the same way on both sides of the bars, and on the right, they even burst out of the tape like a broken bone.  The laces of his shoes are sticking out from underneath their velcro enclosures. These are things I simply can’t tolerate on a training ride, let alone on Race Day.

Apparently, I was impressionable in my young age, but not that impressionable.

Click here to view the embedded video.

A bigger version of the main photo post is available here.

Axis of awesome

Maybe it’s my mountain bike background.  It could be the brand’s long association with Thomas Frischknecht, one of my all-time favourite riders.  It’s more likely that they are light, look great and don’t cost the earth.  Whatever the reason, there’s something about Ritchey 4 Axis stems that just does it for me when it comes to attaching my bars to my steerer.

My first Ritchey was acquired around 2001, when an original WCS 120mm model, accompanied by a matching bar and seatpost, found its way onto my magnesium Merida (notorious for their strange choice of frame material, prone to cracking, but that’s another story).  Those parts found their way onto my next two bikes, but after a few years of service, the graphics were starting to look a bit dated, and they were sold off.  When my next build was undertaken, there really was only one choice for the cockpit components.

Over the last two years, my collection of Ritchey stems has grown to cover the gamut of sizes;  I ran a 100mm on my mountain bike, but it has been replaced by an 80mm (not a Ritchey, but that will no doubt be rectified soon).  My road bike and my ‘cross bike have seen service from 110, 120 and 130mm units.  The two longest examples are presented in the sweet ‘Wet Black’ finish, and currently a ‘Wet Red’ 130 graces my Roubaix.  I’ve also got a hankering for a ‘Wet White’ option, and teaming it with the white seatpost tickles my fancy too.  My indulgence knows no bounds.

How many 4 Axis stems is enough?  One more…

Le Blaireau, Planckaert and ?

My friend and trainee Velomihottie Rachel has a keen cycling eye and an inquisitive mind.  While perusing the book Tour de France/Tour de Force she happened upon this image of The Badger, Bernard Hinault, sprinting for a stage win in the 1981 Tour. We know this because the caption says so. And that is pretty much all it says; no other names, no photo credit, nothing.

Of course, I wanted to know who the other protagonists are.  Some research into that year’s race, and the Wickes-Splendor team pointed to one of the riders being Eddy Planckaert, who won Stage 12 (*Part B) into Zolder.  The other one though?  Could it be old bro Walter? (Not likely, he finished way back that day.)  Sean Kelly was on the team too, and was always up for a bunch gallop, but of course it looks nothing like the Irish hardman (his legs are uglier than those, says Rachel.  And by ugly, I think she means awesome). No, my hunch is it is Guido Van Calster, as he took fourth on the stage that we whittled it down to.  *Stage 12 was broken into Part A (Roubaix-Brussels, 107 km) and Part B (Brussels-Zolder, 133 km), both raced on the same day.

While not really interested in who the other riders were, the thing that stood out most to Rachel was the strange lumps on the riders’ backs.  Not Camelbaks (because that would violate Rule 32, and they weren’t invented yet), probably not race radio transmitters (not sure if they were around then either), Not bidons (too square), not food (why have food stuffed down your jersey in a sprint?), so what the hell could they be?

Once again, we trust in the Velominatii to decipher the clues, and feast on the pure awesomeness of another great photo.

The inaugural Velominati Super Prestige continues with its the final Grand Tour of the season, la Vuelta a España, on Saturday, August 28. This will be the final opportunity for contestants to rake in a load of points; and with the list of injuries, and non-starts together with riders using the race as preparation for the World Championships in October, it will make it all the more challenging to pull together some good picks.

This particular Grand Tour is simultaneously the most boring and most exciting; various sections of Spain features desert with dead-straight roads where little is to be seen aside from a colorful peloton gliding along a road for 6 hours.  On the other hand, the mountains are steep and brutal, and the weather this time of year can be atrocious, so the mountain stages tend to showcase fireworks like we don’t see elsewhere during the season.

Having run the VSP Giro and Tour editions where we tested the ruleset for picks, and I think by this time we’ve managed to set up a scoring system that seems fair and helps to close down the competition to afford newcomers the ability to catch up with some good picks. There is a full overview of the rules and standing at the VSP Schedule, Rules, & Results page, but here is the ten-second overview:

Every contestant is to choose their top five General Classification picks of the race.  The final podium of la Vuelta is worth 15 points to the winner, 10 points for second, 5 points for third, 3 points for fourth, and 2 point for fifth. Given the effect crashes can have on a tour, there are guidelines around making changes to your lineup during the race: you’re allowed to change your lineup if any rider in your pick list drops out for any reason without any penalty; rest days will allow contestants to make changes to their lineup, however those changes will come at a point penalty.  (Visit the VSP Schedule, Rules, & Results page for a complete breakdown of these points.)

Every day, the leader in the points standings will have the honor of wearing the Golden Jersey when posting on the site; the overall winner will wear the Golden Jersey for the remainder of the season and will also earn an “Obey the Rules” bumper sticker.  All reader’s points qualify towards the final prize of the free Velominati Artisan’s Shroud.  As always, if you are inclined to enter, simply post your predictions for the top five placings.

Continuing with our jersey picks from the Tour de France edition is the competition of naming the winner of the points and climber’s jersey winners.  There will be no points awarded towards these two jerseys, but the leader of the competition will have the honor of commenting with associated jersey badge throughout the competition and the winner will earn the right to comment with that badge until next year’s race.  The contestant who picks both the final points and climbers jersey winners correctly will win a Velominati Logo bumper sticker.   Tie-breakers will go to the first contestant who posts their entire lineup (all 5 GC picks plus points and climbers  jersey winners).  Given that this sub-competition has no points, pick substitutions will only be granted under the DNF regulations of the VSP; no rest-day substitutions are allowed.

Sub-competitions will be conducted while the Vuelta is underway for specific stages.  These stages will be chosen a few days prior to the stage being held and will be selected based on the current race conditions with the aim of choosing the most decisive and exciting stages of the race, so check back often to make sure you don’t miss out.  Sub-competitions will be held in separate editions.

Good luck!

Rules and results are posted Velominati Super Prestige page.

Delgado in the Original White Ladies

There has been a lot of talk lately about shoes: the While Ladies, the Yellow Princesses, and the safety and reliability of Spinal Tap Black.  But shoe color has not always been a choice, and it is with this premise that fellow community member Jarvis has contributed the following article for our consideration.

He commented to me during our communication about the article that finding the Velominati felt like he was finding his home.  Indeed, even a quick scan of this article reveals a lifelong passion for the finer details in this great sport of ours; this is indeed a Velominatus.   Here Jarvis covers the origins of the White Ladies, and what has happened to the company that was bold enough to present a white shoe during a time that black leather was the only choice.

Welcome home, son.

–

Look at the peloton today, or more specifically at their feet, and it’s a sea of white shoes, so much so that black shoes look out of place – even wrong. But this wasn’t always the case; go back just over twenty years and you’ll reach the dawn of the White Cycling Shoe. In the late 1980′s, if you wanted anything other than black shoes you had a choice from about three manufacturers; if, however, you wanted white shoes you had one option, Time.

First appearing around 1987, Time produced a black shoe – albeit black leather with grey mesh – twin red straps with a red “go faster” stripe – but they also produced a white version as an alternative. As modern as the black shoe looked in comparison with the other shoes of the day, the white version was the striking number; the uppers were white with the same twin red straps and side stripe, the polycarbonate soles were white with a red heel rubber. It’s difficult to find a definitive history, but my understanding is that Time had intended, or at least expected, the black shoe to be the bigger seller, Pedro Delgado can be seen wearing the black version in the ’88 Tour de France but by the end of the race he was wearing the white version and it was the white shoe that the professionals chose. Either way, the white shoe revolution was taking off and by the following year Time sponsoring not just individual riders as before, but whole teams such as Buckler and Helvetia La Suisse.

It was around this time that I became obsessed with Time products; with the technology of the pedals designed to minimise harm to the knees, and with their modern designs. Most other shoes of the era were full leather with perforations in for cooling, a method that had been around for decades, and were tightened with laces or small Velcro straps. For the aesthete, Time shoes were a revolution, they were almost a perfect design: simple, clean lines, with bold contrasting colours matched to modern technologies. Unless you were a staunch traditionalist, there wasn’t much not to like.

However, it was the 1992 model that I consider to be the ultimate version for the aesthete and the prototype for most if not all modern shoes. By now, the asymmetrical toe-box and white sole of the original model were gone, replaced by a more rounded toe-box and a black carbon sole. For ’92, further subtle changes were made: the straps were now leather with rubber tops to give better grip and which looked better than the cloth strap of the originals. Additional detailing was also introduced, subtle enough not to detract from the original simple design and colours whilst giving the shoe a smarter look: the lengthened side stripe giving a nicer focal point for the perfectly angled pedal stroke.

Eighteen years on from when Time, the originator of the white shoe, were sponsoring top teams such as Buckler, Helvetia and Tulip, as well as individual riders like Pedro Delgado, the peloton is full of white shoes, but none, as far as I can tell, are Time. So what happened?

Aesthetically 1992 marked the high-water mark of Time’s design team. The next model saw the introduction of a dark blue to the colour scheme, greatly detracting from the original white and red design and, although the yellow and red Equipe Pro of the late ’90′s was a return to form, this shoe proved to be the last based on the original design.

While competitors developed shoes with click-locks, ultra-thin soles and mouldable uppers, Time seemed to get side-tracked by their frame business. Either that, or they were employing blind or desperate designers, as they managed to leap spectacularly from one design disaster to another. By the mid-2000′s, this had resulted in a shoe so bland it was instantly forgettable.

They have, however, turned things around with their latest incarnation, an elegant looking shoe that does away with much of the over-designed look of its predecessors and has an upper that can be moulded to your fit by a hair-dryer. According to reviews, they are very good shoes and they cost substantially less than most of its competitors. It begs the question: why aren’t any Pro’s wearing them?

I don’t have any real answers as to why Time have lost their presence in the peloton. It has been suggested to me that Time have moved on from their shoes and pedals and are concentrating more on their frame business. But that theory doesn’t completely work as it doesn’t account for the recent launch of their i-Clic pedals. It seems good business sense dictate that if you are launching new pedals – and you just happen to have new shoes out around the same time – you market both at the same time. Maybe they are concentrating on their frames, but if they are, that doesn’t extend to the fact that they are not sponsoring any teams with frames this year.

Getting your product into the PRO peloton costs loads of money, and for a small company the marketing budget must be spent wisely. Although the less famous riders are still probably more than happy just to get a free pair of shoes, I imagine the amount of money required to attain the same sort of brand presence in the peloton as they had in 1992 is substantially more. But you would have thought that they’d at least want some presence at the highest level of the sport. Small brands like Bont manage to supply a lot of riders, so why not Time? If the product is as good as the reviewers say it is, then why wouldn’t the company want it out there, being seen? After all, that is the point of sponsorship.

From this to this, just ignore the stages in between.

Of course Frank was replying to the emails in his usual manic manner with all kinds of “fucking RAD dudes” as is his wont.  A further scroll revealed a set of lyrics in the rap vein, which soon had a huge grin splitting my dial.  Of course I was in, you don’t have to ask me twice to embarrass myself.

G'Phant flashes the Sign o' the Merckx

I rolled up to the studio on the Tricross, as G’Phant arrived in style in his flash red V8 Commodore (a Pontiac GTO kinda-thing for you Yanks), in true Lawyer-Ghetto stylez.  Mike the engineer played a few drum tracks, and we picked an appropriate beat for our vocal meat.  The Notorious G informed me he had arranged a female vocalist to sing (as opposed to our caterwauling and grunting) the chorus, and the bombshell soon-to-be-dubbed Newz took over the room with her outstanding pipes.  We needed someone to make us sound good, and Newz certainly delivered the good news.  G’Phant laid down some bass grooves on the synth, and we were starting to sound like we knew what we were doing.  Or maybe that was Mike weaving his magic.

BrettOK in full compliance with Rule 37

It was a blast!  We couldn’t stop grinning, from the brilliant interpretation of the key Rules by Geof, the passable imitations of ghetto rappers by a couple of skinny white boys (well, old men really), and the general good times that creating music brings.  Beware;  Frank is arranging a video shoot as we rap, I mean speak, and Merckx knows what he is capable of…

*Thanks to Mike at Trident Studios, Wellington for his time and patience, to Newz for her time and talent, and Geof for being a freakin nut and writing the awesome lyrics, booking the studio and making this happen.  Loved it.

Presenting:  Obey The Rules (Welly White Boy Edit) by GangstaPhant featuring BrettOK and Newz.

Download: Obey the Rules

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