What if You Get a Wake Up Call…But it’s Too Late to Wake Up?

07.29.2005 | 8:36 pm

You know what I like best about big ol’ endurance rides like yesterday’s RAMROD? The day after. I feel so mellow, so entitled to burritos and Ben and Jerry’s ice cream, so absolutely unashamed that I did not ride my bike to work today.
 
But, this time, mixed in there with that post-big-ride mellow groove is a nagging little piece of information I discovered while riding yesterday:
 
I have become a miserable climber.
 
This shouldn’t surprise me. After all, unlike back in Utah, most of my rides here (basically, just extended-dance-remix versions of my commute) have more rolling and flat terrain than actual climbing. And the climbs don’t last long. So of course I’m a miserable climber. But since a big chunk of my biking identity is wrapped up in being a strong climber, it’s just a little bit humiliating to be passed by so many people on the climbs.
 
And with the Leadville 100 MTB race – 11,000 feet of climbing, all above 9,000 feet — two weeks away, I’m scared to death. Even with the weight loss, I am in for a world of hurt.
 
Still, though: what an epic ride yesterday. Let’s bust out the highlight reel:
 
Having Done About 30 Endurance Races / Events In Nine Years, I Have Not Learned Anything
Nick Abbott and I started the ride at 5:10AM — it was still a little dark, and cool outside. Since the first 20 miles of this ride are downhill, we got up to speed fairly quickly and before long had assembled a nice long train of riders — 15 or so — cruising at around 25 mph.
 
I was the leader of this large train, and took great pleasure in taking long pulls — I felt so strong. After my turn at the front, I’d usually just drop back a couple places, so I could take another turn and keep the pace up. Mist draped the farmland and countryside as we whizzed by. Mount Rainier, looking massive even from dozens of miles away, was white and gorgeous. We had the promise of perfect weather. I felt invincible, and was confident I could keep up this pace all day.
 
"Don’t burn yourself up so early," Nick warned. Pfff. Clearly, I was going to be towing his sorry butt the whole day.
 
Oh, Very Funny
After 35 miles of rolling along, the road turns upward, and I knew it wouldn’t turn down again for another 45 miles. That’s a long time to be climbing, but I was enjoying the incredible scenery — it became commonplace to be riding in a corridor of big evergreens, through which you could see a green lake off to one side.
 
And then I saw what I consider to be the best sight gag of all time.
 
At around mile 50, Nick and I saw a guy in his late 50’s, jogging up the road. As we got closer, we noticed he was carrying a stick of some kind. A little closer and we could see it was a…croquet mallet? And then, just before we passed, I saw he was wearing a homemade race bib:
 
CRAMROD
1
Croquet Run Around Mount Rainier in One Day
 
It was as if we had been briefly transported into a Monty Python sketch. Genius.
 
Living Hell on the Way to Paradise
Nick and I kept taking turns pulling each other — I’m not sure if there’s any advantage to this when you’re only going 7-8mph — as we spun along the climb, knowing that at mile 80 we’d be at the highest point of the day, "Paradise," at 5420 feet. However, it was clear Nick was riding with me out of kindness or pity — he’d start pulling away every time it was his turn to lead. Then he’d apologize and drop back. Finally — mercifully, really — he couldn’t hold back any longer and rode away, and I slowly churned my way on alone. Dozens of people passed me. I passed nobody.
 
I thought dark thoughts, mostly along the lines of, "This is how it’s going to be at the Columbine Mine climb in two weeks, too." I also concocted excuses for why I was slow. None of them are true, but it seems a shame not to trot them out, since I worked so hard on making them up:
  • I’m still recovering from my cold
  • The Nyquil I took an entire week ago is still slowing me down
  • Climbers are stupid. I’m more of a time trialist.
Eventually I reached the top, where Nick looked well-rested. We zoomed down the next eleven miles, shrugging off 3000 feet of altitude in very short order.
 
Cayuse: Not So Bad
On the way up to Paradise, one of the things that really got me down was the way a number of people kept saying, "Oh, this isn’t really the hard climb. Cayuse is steeper and harder. That’s the one that will kill you." But you know what? I felt a lot better on Cayuse (climbs from 2200 feet up to 4700 feet in about 8 miles) than I did on the climb to Paradise. I was even able to hang with Nick for most of it, and passed a couple of people (one of those people was an old man who had an oxygen tank strapped to his walker, but I don’t think that’s really relevant).
 
And then we just had 40 miles to go — all downhill, but into a headwind.
 
Let’s Eat
After the first ten miles of dropping, we got to the last aid station — the best I have ever been to at any race or event. It was called the "RAMROD Deli" and they made you sandwiches to order. I had a turkey and swiss on white, with extra mayo, mustard and tomatoes. And a Diet Coke. It was the best food I’ve ever had in my life.
 
Nick and I then started taking turns pulling. I expected it to be easier since it was all downhill, but the headwind was enough to make it feel like we were on flat ground. Before long, though, another guy — a serious IronMan type — hooked up with us and we began taking one-minute pulls, pretty much the rest of the way home. It worked great — we cruised at 21-24 mph — though I was right at my limit, and Nick finally paid for his superhero antics and blew up for like 30 seconds.
 
We rolled into the finish line at 3:40 — 10:30 after we had started. I have no idea whether that put us toward the front, middle, or back of the pack.
 
Nick headed home with his family, and I went to the nearest Texaco, where I bought a pint of Ben and Jerry’s Mint and Cookie ice cream.
 
It would be gone before I got even half way home.
 
Nick’s Bottom Line
In email to coworkers today, Nick kindly avoided mentioning how he put the hurt on me all day, instead saying:
"We beat skinnier people with shaved legs and more expensive bikes, and that is the main thing."
To which David Lazar replied:
"Hairy fatties with cheap bikes RULE!"
Elegantly put, guys.
 
Today’s Weight: 164.5. Evidently, I was still really dehydrated when I woke up this morning.
 
Bonus Excitement: www.cyclingnews.com has published the 2005 Tour de France Final Exam, a piece I wrote for them early this week.
 
More Bonus Excitement: I’ll be writing something for Cyclingnews every other week — at least until they get sick of me.

Comments (7)

 

An Open Letter to the Passenger in the Green SUV Who Screamed as He Went By Yesterday

07.27.2005 | 2:49 pm

Dear Passenger in the Green SUV,
 
Yesterday, as I was riding my bike home from work your SUV pulled alongside me, at which point you — the passenger — screamed at the top of your lungs, startling me and making me swerve and nearly hit a guardrail.
 
I’d like to take this moment to congratulate you on a couple of things:
  1. The quality of your sense of humor. Everyone knows that startling someone who is two feet away from heavy rush hour traffic without any protection whatsoever is simply brilliant. I only wish that you had videotaped it to show to your friends — I must have looked so stupid! And the thing is, this joke’s got legs. I can imagine how you might get a similar effect by suddenly screaming at people as you walk by them in hallways, or perhaps at the dinner table. How about in business meetings — or, in your case, during your lunch break while you sit with the others in your work-release program?
  2. The originality of your sense of humor. I haven’t conducted a survey or anything, but I’m pretty sure you are the absolute first person to ever scream at a cyclist from a moving car. And I’m sure other cyclists will verify that they, like I, have never:
    • Had a car swerve at them as a joke
    • Had a car honk at them as a joke
    • Had someone throw a beer bottle at/in front of them as a joke.

As a fellow humorist — though of course my sense of humor doesn’t compare with yours; I just write jokes and "amusing" anecdotes — I would again like to thank you for taking the time to share your unique and stylish brand of comedy with me.

Finally, I would like to share with you that since you weren’t going that much faster than I was, I had plenty of time to memorize your license plate. We were both going in the same direction on E. Lake Sammamish Parkway, so our destinations can’t have been too different. I’d say it’s almost inevitable that I will find your green SUV parked and alone someday. At which point, I look forward to continuing our tradition of sharing practical jokes with one another.

 

Kind Regards,

 

The Fat Cyclist

 

Today’s Weight: 166.8

 

PS: I wrote a followup to this post called "Both Sides of the Windshield," responding to one of the comments a person left. Click here to read it.

Comments (24)

An Open Letter to the Passenger in the Green SUV Who Screamed as He Went By Yesterday

07.27.2005 | 2:35 pm

Dear Passenger in the Green SUV,

Yesterday, as I was riding my bike home from work your SUV pulled alongside me, at which point you — the passenger — screamed at the top of your lungs, startling me and making me swerve and nearly hit a guardrail.

I’d like to take this moment to congratulate you on a couple of things:

  1. The quality of your sense of humor. Everyone knows that startling someone who is two feet away from heavy rush hour traffic without any protection whatsoever is simply brilliant. I only wish that you had videotaped it to show to your friends — I must have looked so stupid! And the thing is, this joke’s got legs. I can imagine how you might get a similar effect by suddenly screaming at people as you walk by them in hallways, or perhaps at the dinner table. How about in business meetings — or, in your case, during your lunch break while you sit with the others in your work-release program?
  2. The originality of your sense of humor. I haven’t conducted a survey or anything, but I’m pretty sure you are the absolute first person to ever scream at a cyclist from a moving car. And I’m sure other cyclists will verify that they, like I, have never:
    • Had a car swerve at them as a joke
    • Had a car honk at them as a joke
    • Had someone throw a beer bottle at/in front of them as a joke.

As a fellow humorist — though of course my sense of humor doesn’t compare with yours; I just write jokes and “amusing” anecdotes — I would again like to thank you for taking the time to share your unique and stylish brand of comedy with me.

Finally, I would like to share with you that since you weren’t going that much faster than I was, I had plenty of time to memorize your license plate. We were both going in the same direction on E. Lake Sammamish Parkway, so our destinations can’t have been too different. I’d say it’s almost inevitable that I will find your green SUV parked and alone someday. At which point, I look forward to continuing our tradition of sharing practical jokes with one another.

Kind Regards,

The Fat Cyclist

Comments (25)

Nyquil = Kryptonite

07.26.2005 | 5:22 pm

A few years ago, some friends and I went to Moab for a weekend of mountain biking. Unfortunately, just before the weekend, I caught a nasty cold. Rather than bail on the trip, though, I bought some Nyquil as we rolled into town, took a swig, and went to bed, figuring I’d get a good night sleep and ride in the morning.
 
The Nyquil did its job: it knocked me out cold.
 
The next morning we were riding Amasa Back — one of the very best trails Moab has to offer. Lots of climbing, lots of entertaining moves.
 
Now, back then, I was not a Fat Cyclist. I was the guy who beat you to the top of the climb (full disclosure: I would then politely offer to let you lead on the downhill, because I have always been a rotten downhiller – once I even wrote an article for Dirt Rag stating as much). I took lots of pride in that fact. So, imagine my dismay and amazement when I was immediately spat out the back of the group, and never was able to stay in contact for the rest of the ride. It was like my legs were made of lead, wood, and rubber bands.
 
Since I’ve ridden through numerous colds — the cold actually seems to temporarily vanish when I’m on the bike — I knew that I was suffering a Nyquil hangover. I put my head down and suffered through what I knew was outwardly a beautiful ride on a beautiful day.
 
I vowed never to take Nyquil again.
 
Flash Forward to Present
Last week, just as I was about to take off on a whale-watching tour with my family for a few days, I of course came down with a brutish cold. Knowing I wouldn’t otherwise be able to sleep in the hotel room, I bought some Nyquil (casually dismissing my earlier vow, as is my wont) and took a shot.
 
It worked like a dream. So I took it again the next night, and the next.
 
And then today, I felt like I’d better get back on my bike. After all, I’m riding the RAMROD this Thursday.
 
As of course you’ve guessed, I have no power at all today. On roads where I usually cruise at 21mph, I was going 17mph. And I was a no-show on the climbs. I hit the red zone immediately and had to back off way sooner than usual.
 
So the question on my mind is — how soon will the Nyquil Kryptonite effect last? The RAMROD, you see, is 150 miles long, with 11,000 feet of climbing. I’d like to have my legs back by then.
 
Today’s Weight: 169.8 — I’m actually pleased with this, considering that I haven’t ridden my bike in five days, and have been eating in restaraunts non-stop.

Comments (8)

An Open Letter to Lance Armstrong, Who is Newly Unemployed

07.21.2005 | 9:23 pm

Dear Mr. Armstrong,

I’m very sorry to hear that you have lost your job as a bicycle rider. Being unemployed is a difficult, demoralizing experience, and to tell the truth I’m not absolutely sure that anything I have to say will help. However, like you, I have found myself “between jobs” before — and I’m happy to say that if you treat this as a learning experience, you can gain some important life lessons from these admittedly difficult circumstances. Here’s how you can take those lemons and make lemonade!

  • Don’t be proud. From what I understand, Lance (I hope you don’t mind if I call you Lance), this is not the first time you have lost your job. In fact, I hear that last year the United States Postal Service fired you. Maybe now is the time for you to go back to them, apologize for your shortcomings, and ask for a job. It seems like common sense to say that there will always be work for mail carriers. If you can start being more consistent in your work, perhaps you’ll find that you have a reliable career that can last a lifetime!
  • Don’t be afraid to ask for help. No doubt you’re wondering how you’re going to make ends meet now that you have no job. Well, I understand you have a girlfriend who is a singer — in fact, if I don’t miss my guess, I believe she once had a hit song, “All Girls Wanna Do is Just Have Some Fun!” And while I think it’s safe to say that one-hit-wonders are a dime-a-dozen, she can probably still find work. In fact, I have several friends with younger children. I may be able to help her make some bookings for their upcoming birthday parties. In any case, if you need money, you should ask her for some. But keep a strict accounting of every penny you borrow, and an even more strict accounting of every penny you spend, to show that you’re not just throwing her hard-earned (and somewhat unsteady)money around foolishly. Pay her back as soon as you can.
  • Do something for others. I hope you don’t mind me being teensy bit little bit direct with you now, Mr. Armstrong. I can tell, just by looking at you, that you have always had it easy. You’ve never been sick a day in your life. Well, now may be the time for you to think about some of the less-fortunate people in the world. Help the sick, for once in your life. You’re a strapping young man; I’ll bet any hospital in the world would be happy to take you on as a candy striper.
  • Think about a career change. You’ve given bicycle riding a shot. That’s great that you’ve chased a dream. Now it’s time to come down to the ground and realize that it’s simply not a practical job. Try to find something you can be successful at. Perhaps you could get a job with Amway or Nuskin. Or maybe you could get a job making / selling those rubber bracelets that are so popular with kids these days. Or maybe you could take your former “career” experience and turn it into something practical — you could be a mechanic or salesman in a bike shop! Though, if you want to be a salesman in a bike shop, I recommend you stop acting like such a know-it-all about bike riding. Remember, the customer is always right!

You can’t help that you’ve lost your job, Mr. Armstrong. But you can help what you’re going to do now. Please accept this advice in the spirit in which it is given.

Kind Regards,

The Fat Cyclist

Comments (6)

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