09.9.2008 | 6:54 am
29 April, 7114
I believe the natives of this isle are beginning to trust me, for today they showed me around their isle. They have have paved concentric circles around the isle, using a sun-baked mixture of sand and tree resin as a road surface. They then use their bicycles — more about these in a moment — to ride around the isle.
The purpose of this activity is unclear. At first, it appears to be a clever, simple means of conveyance: lightweight, easily maintained, and reasonably efficient. However, When I ask natives where they are going on these bicycles, they frequently describe a route, instead of a destination. To my dismay, the routes they describe often arrive at the very point from which they left!
What does this mean? I have several theories, none satisfactory.
Are they patrolling for marauders? Is this a social interaction — via a perfunctory nod or wave — with others on the isle (note to self: investigate why only some natives wave to others, while many remain studiously aloof)? A political commentary? A mating dance? A religious ritual?
More indecipherable even than riding bicycles for great lengths of time with no destination other than the point of origin is the manner in which they ride. Some ride alone, for hour upon end. Some ride in packs, protecting what appears to be the alpha native of the group. Some ride single file and cannot seem to make up their mind as to who should lead; no sooner does a native get to a command position than she drops back to the rear of the line. Baffling.
Perhaps strangest of all, a very few of their number seem to take pleasure in first taking a swim, then riding a their bicycles, then running a great distance. Perhaps these are the mentally ill of the society. Or the outcasts. Or the criminals, being punished for their societal trespasses. Regardless, these natives are looked down upon by the others on the isle. I have learned that until recently were ejected from society, turned out from the village, and left to die, although in recent times they are treated more humanely, in the hope that they will someday come to their senses.
Their road is more than a practical way to simplify getting from one point to the other. The natives seem to regard it as a boundary. “Why,” I have asked them, “do you never stray from the road into the beautiful forest beyond?”
“There is nothing but the road,” the native will often reply, denying the very existence of their surroundings. Or perhaps they will ridicule me with what they regard as an equivalent question: “Why do you not eat pig offal?” When I say I don’t because it is repugnant and would do me no good were I to try, they will smile and say, “Precisely.”
I believe they worship their bicycles. Before each ride, they go through a ritual. They replenish the bicycle’s air. They wash and polish the bike, kneeling as they do so. Finally, they apply ceremonial ointment. The air of reverence and expectation is as touching as it is primitive.
Before — and sometimes after — their bicycle ministrations, the natives will often go to a bicycle church. There, they will describe how their religious rites have gone awry. A priest — witch doctor? — will lay hands on the bike, healing it. The native will offer thanks and some of their currency (those horrible foodlike bars of which I have earlier spoken) in exchange.
Who is this god to whom they pray? “Edam Urrix,” they say, the prime mover of their world.
The name strikes me as familiar, somehow. Perhaps it is because I, too, am fond of that particular kind of cheese.
Comments (74)
09.8.2008 | 12:02 pm
24 April 7114
For the thousandth time today, I must ask myself whether this is truly happening to me. Is it really possible that I — an anthropologist on vacation to the Southern Isles — would be blown off course and to an island that has, somehow, been hidden from the world for more than five thousand years?
It cannot be so! And yet, here I am.
Scarcely upon my awakening on the beach — can it be called a beach? It seems harder than most beaches, as if the sand had somehow been petrified into a flat, hard surface — I was met by the natives of this strange isle.
I call them “natives,” for I know not what else to call them. Certainly, “people” does not fit, for while they bear some resemblance to humans, their differences exceed their similarities in many striking ways.
The first thing one notes when seeing these individuals is the size of their heads. Their skulls are enormous, easily exceeding the ordinary girth of a modern human head by 40%. Further, their heads are somewhat pliant, as if made of a porous material intended to cushion and protect.
Of course, these odd skull sizes are even more evident when you consider that these natives are entirely without hair (and this is not merely the case on their heads, but also their legs and arms!).
The lack of extra thickness of the natives’ necks argues for the likelihood that this extra bulk surrounding the brain is quite light. I did not make this connection immediately, however, for the natives — every single one of them — hunches continuously. At first, I thought this was due to the weight of their heads. Instead, their spines are uniformly bent.
But why?
The natives’ odd characteristics are in no way limited to their heads and spines, however. They have no toes at all, but seem to have grown an odd, bony structure, protruding down from the ball of each foot. Their legs are muscular, but I have seen no native ever bend a leg at more than 40-degree angle, and they walk gingerly, tentatively, and without grace.
Their upper bodies are wasted away, with arms that are barely more than vestigial. And yet, they have almost comically large ribcages, as if they each had an extra set of lungs.
They all appear dangerously thin. Perhaps I have happened upon them during a famine?
Of course, I was terrified when confronted by these natives, but I needn’t have been. Not only are they mostly friendly, but they speak a dialect of English. A representative asked me if I needed food. I allowed that I was in fact hungry. He handed me a rectangular, hard piece of breadlike substance (lending credence to my famine theory), a bottle of water, and — along with the others of his tribe — turned and walked awkwardly behind a hut.
Thinking that I would have no trouble whatsoever catching up to such a slow folk, I took my time standing up while trying to eat this bland bar of foodlike substance (eventually, I discarded it). But by the time I got to the hut, the natives were gone.
Who are these strange folk, and what strange environmental pressures have forced these horrible changes upon their bodies?
So many mysteries. I hope to learn more tomorrow.
Comments (54)
09.5.2008 | 10:27 am
Dear Shimano,
Let me begin by saying that I like bikes, and I’m a huge nerd. Thus, it goes without saying that for quite some time, I’ve been interested in your upcoming electronic shifting option for the 2009 Dura-Ace group. I like the idea of a front derailleur that automatically trims. I like the idea of a two-stage downshift for the front, reducing the likelihood of dropping the chain. I like the idea of having the derailleurs auto-adjust to the cassette.
But then, a couple of days ago, I read the following in your press release (emphases mine), announcing that this new shifting option will be available in January ‘09.
“Going electric helps to ensure precision that can make a rider faster and reduce mental fatigue. If you think about Formula One racing, the race cars use automatic and clutchless transmissions because the computer can create a faster, more synchronized and consistent shift than a skilled driver can manually,” said Devin Walton, Shimano’s public relations manager. “That being said, those same technologies can improve performance for anyone and there is a certain novelty factor for those enthusiasts that like to indulge in the latest high tech equipment or use the same equipment that professionals use.”
Well, Shimano, whereas before I was merely interested in electronic shifting, now I am sold. In fact, I’d like o propose the following television ad, based on Mr. Walton’s excellent points.
Ad Spot 1: Mental Fatigue
Three cyclists are sitting on the curb outside a convenience store. Two of them are plainly exhausted from the ride they are currently on. The third looks perky and ready to go again.
Cyclist 1: Wow, what a ride. I don’t think I have ever shifted so many times in my life.
Cyclist 2: Mumm hubboo wugga ogglebork.
Cyclist 1: Dude, you sound even more mentally fatigued than I am! All that shifting must have totally melted your brain.
Cyclist 2: Buffo wacka wacka.
Cyclist 1: I don’t know what you’re saying, but dude, I know what you mean.
Cyclist 3: Perhaps you, as I recently have, should investigate the merits of the new Shimano Dura-Ace Di2, a technologically advanced, electronic shifting option for the all new 7900 series Dura-Ace. I have found that my mental fatigue has decreased by 9.26% since I have integrated this sublime technology into my cycling regimen.
Cyclist 1: I think I’d agree with you, but all that shifting I did on that ride was just too much. My mind is too fatigued to have paid attention to what you just said.
Cyclist 2: Corpubookka wifflemarfin? (starts drooling)
Cyclist 3: Indubitably. In addition, I find the novelty factor of this bike quite gratifying. Pip pip!
Cyclist 1: (Head explodes)
Rim shot. Fade to black. Go to Shimano logo.
Ad Spot 2: Formula Racer
OK, Shimano, I admit: I don’t have the idea for this one quite nailed down, because I’m not quite sure what Mr. Walton means when he says:
If you think about Formula One racing, the race cars use automatic and clutchless transmissions because the computer can create a faster, more synchronized and consistent shift than a skilled driver can manually
If I understand correctly, he’s saying F1 automatic transmissions shift faster than manual transmissions. I get that. My problem is that even though it’s electronic, the new Di2 transmission is still definitely manual. I mean, it’s not going to shift except when I tell it to, right?
And the whole thing about “clutchless transmissions” completely mystifies me. Are you saying that the new Di2 is superior because it’s clutchless? If this is the case, you may want to have a conversation with your engineering department. They may have news for you about all the other bike drivetrains that have ever existed in the history of bikes (hint: none of them have ever had clutches.)
Get back to me on this, would you, Shimano, and I’ll get this second ad spot written, pronto.
Kind Regards,
The Fat Cyclist
Comments (59)
09.4.2008 | 11:30 am
Years ago, I edited a computer programmer’s magazine (Visual C++ Developers Journal, to which I’m sure all of you subscribed). The publisher was based in California, but I worked remotely, subletting an office from a real estate agent.
Since I worked remotely, I was on the phone almost constantly. Talking to authors. Talking to editors. Talking to layout. Talking to the publisher.
Talking, talking, talking.
Drink Up
At the time, I was training very seriously, and was trying to get down to racing weight (i.e., the weight at which my knees no longer squoosh into my belly on the upstroke).
Now, any time I want to get serious about losing weight, drinking water becomes a huge part of my day. Even at work, I’ll keep a couple water bottles at my desk, drinking one bottle per hour or so.
I’m not absolutely certain why constantly drinking water is so effective at bringing your weight down (also, I’m not interested, so please don’t email me with links to informative articles), but I know that it works.
As I would drink, I would — naturally — need to pee. And I’m not talking about needing to pee once every couple hours. Nor am I talking about needing to pee once per hour. I’m talking about needing to pee pretty much all the time.
I remember, for example, finishing up once, cleaning up, and returning to my seat…and getting the first glimpse of that special "it’s go time" twinge as I sat down.
In fact, I have — more than once — contemplated whether it might be possible, if I were to drink just a smidgen more, to both drink and pee at a constant rate, nonstop.
Someone, please try this and get back to me on how it turns out.
The Importance of Good Planning
I don’t need to tell you that if you’re a habitual water drinker and you’re going to be in ninety-minute meeting, you’ve got to take steps. Specifically:
- Taper off on the drinking an hour before the meeting.
- Go use the restroom just before the meeting, even if you don’t really feel like you need to.
(Mildly creepy aside here: At the time, Dug and I worked in the same office — he worked for the same publishing company as I did — and he was also working hard to be a well-hydrated cyclist. As a result, you could always tell when we both were on the same conference call: we’d both be in the bathroom three minutes before the meeting started.)
Sometimes, though, I forgot. And when that happened, meetings seemed to go longer.
And time seemed to slow. Then stop.
Then reverse itself and go backwards.
Of course, there’s nothing wrong with excusing yourself from a meeting for a moment for a "bio break," as we euphemized it.
On the other hand, it feels distinctly awkward when you have to excuse yourself to pee for the third time that hour.
Desperate Measures
And then there was the fateful day where I got a phone call from the president of the company.
It was unexpected, and it was urgent. I put on my headset and settled in.
But, without thinking, I just kept on drinking.
Ten minutes into the call, I realized I had nervously drunk a whole bottle of water since picking up the phone.
Fifteen minutes into the call, I needed to pee. But this wasn’t the kind of call you take a break from. Nosirree.
25 minutes into the call, I needed to pee, bad.
And 35 minutes into the call, I determined it was time to make a new, novel use of one of my water bottles.
I drew the blinds closed, waited until I could tell I wouldn’t need to talk for at least a minute, then put my phone on mute, unscrewed the top of my least-favorite bottle, and made additional preparations, which I shall mercifully not describe here.
I immediately felt three sensations:
- Exquisite relief. I don’t believe I need to explain this sensation, nor why I felt it.
- Strangeness. The knowledge that I was peeing while my boss yelled at me about my inability to ask relevant followup questions in interviews was peculiar, to put it mildly.
- Warmth. The water bottle was — not surprisingly, I suppose — quite warm after I was finished.
Brief Panic
I was then able to return to the business at hand — mainly, being trashed by my employer. But it didn’t seem so bad, anymore. I felt calm. At peace. And above all: relieved.
However, my former employer had more to say. And he did. At length.
By the time he was finished, I had rendered both the bottles on my desk unfit for any use but one from that point forward — and an "X" drawn with a sharpie on each of those bottles made it clear what those bottles were exclusively for.
And as I finished filling the second bottle, I had a new problem.
I was not finished.
At which point I learned something I had always wondered about, but had not — until that moment — tested. Specifically: It is, in fact, possible to stop peeing before you’re done. And the relief, while partial, is still measurable.
I’ll take my Nobel prize money in cash, thanks.
Afterword
To this day, I wonder what I would have done if my boss had not finished his call five minutes later.
Comments (96)
09.2.2008 | 10:51 pm
A Note from Fatty: My sister Jodi (formerly known as the Errorista) has an awesome new blog: Pistols and Popcorn. I recommend it, naturally. Anyway, a couple days ago, Jodi announced she’s forming a Stand Up 2 Cancer team. She’s trying to raise $1000 by this Friday. Please head on over to her Team page and help. Thanks!
In just a few short weeks, I’ll be going to Interbike, for the first time ever.
To prepare, I am getting my best suits cleaned and pressed and have caught up with all the latest tie-tying fashions, so that I may be prepared for any impromptu, semiformal events. to which I may be invited.
Even more importantly, however, I have had my tuxedo (baby blue, indigo velvet trim and cummerbund) let out so that I may be appropriately dressed for my participation in the Interbike Web 2.0 & Social Media Panel.
Yes, that’s right. I will be participating in a panel, and I will be sharing the kind of wisdom that can only be gleaned from a blogger who has built his reputation on fake news and opined on the sublime nature of avocados, clementines, and farts (but not the combination of the three).
Seriously, I really will be part of a panel. And I’m supposed to be able to talk about “What You Need to Know About Web 2.0.” Which means, I guess, that I’d better hurry up and learn what “Web 2.0″ means.
And also, I need to learn whether, in 3+ years of writing this blog, I have learned anything worth sharing.
But first, a shameless appeal. If you’re going to be at Interbike, email me. Let’s meet. And then I’ll give you a Fat Cyclist t-shirt, provided you promise to wear it at the panel I’m speaking at, and cheer wildly whenever I say anything. Especially if it makes a little sense.
Stuff I’ve Learned
Here’s the thing, though. I think I actually have learned a few things while blogging for 3+ years (and am currently violating one of the main things I’ve learned: don’t blog about blogging).
- It helps to have a really specific audience in mind. When I write, I’m generally trying to entertain Bob, Dug, Brad, Rick, and Kenny. I write most of my entries as if it were email to my friends. And then I imagine them writing back, usually with a response like, “This is stupid. Please stop emailing me so often.” And then I’m glad I have a blog, because you’re all much nicer than my friends.
- Cherish your readers: If you’re lucky, some smart and interesting people will find your blog and will start contributing, either with comments or email feedback or whatever. Treat these people like gold. By which I mean: keep them hidden in a vault, and then sell them when market conditions are favorable. Also, maybe try melting and making little figurines out of them.
- Plumbing doesn’t matter. The water running through the plumbing matters. People ask me about what I’ve done to increase my Google juice, to increase my bounce rate, and to otherwise increase my web visibility. My answer is: nothing. Ever. I have a hard time believing that anyone is going to permanently increase their site’s readership through search engine optimization. Eventually, people who share your interests will find and bookmark you, because there are 7,000,240,812 (plus or minus 3) people using the Internet at any given moment. A certain percentage will find you compelling. A larger percentage will find you compelling if you give them free stuff. (Note: In spite of everything I’ve said on this topic, I still get a lot of satisfaction in what happens if you do a straight-up Google search on Rock Racing.)
- Write often. But not too often. Write every weekday. Take the weekends off, and Fridays if you don’t have something extra-compelling to say. Save your best stuff for Tuesdays and Wednesdays. Don’t write multiple posts per day, because your readers will begin to suspect that you don’t have a real life, and they’re probably right.
- If you run out of interesting things to say, ask a question instead. I can’t believe how many times I’ve used this gimmick, nor how well it works. Click here for an example.
- Even if you haven’t run out of interesting things to say, ask questions. It turns out that people like to participate in conversations even more than they like to be lectured to. I know, that’s a weird and new theory, but try it out sometime, both on your website and in real life. Ask what other people think. And then read their responses. Hey, look! You’re no longer speaking, but talking instead!
- Don’t talk about stuff you shouldn’t talk about. If your site isn’t specifically about religion or politics, don’t talk about either. Because — especially if your site is about something (like, for example, bikes) that can be interesting to a wide variety of people, there’s a good chance that folks who had gotten along really well for years and years will start duking it out. Case in point: For the past 3-and-change years, I have not related one particular bike-related story, because it’s impossible to tell without going into religion. So I never tell it. Even though it’s the cause of a really interesting scar I’ve got.
- Use lots of paragraph breaks. I really believe the main reason my blog has more readers than some others is that I have a lot of paragraph breaks. I’m very generous with paragraph breaks, especially considering that I don’t really even know what the rules for paragraph breaks are. I think they have something to do with separating complete thoughts, but I thought that’s what periods are for, too. I do know, however, that if you’ve got more than three sentences without a paragraph break, your paragraph becomes horrifically unwieldy.
- Walls are really good at keeping people out. In real life, I don’t demand ID before I let people talk to me. So, in my blog, I don’t make people register to comment, and I don’t make people try to interpret obfuscated characters. To date, Akismet has caught nearly 700,000 spam comments in my blog, but it’s rare that a human sees one of them.
- People like free stuff. If you want to cheat your way to a large audience, have a contest. If you want to cheat your way to a perpetually large audience, have a lot of contests.
- If you don’t have anything to say, don’t say anything. It’s better to not post than to post that you have nothing to post.
- You’ll get better. At first, it’s hard to write something every day. But it gets easier with practice, just like everything else.
- Don’t be mean. Unless you’re Bike Snob NYC. Then be as mean as you want. But not to me.
Oh, and one more thing. Be sure to include pictures of cats with badly spelled captions. Those things are hilarious.
Actual Objectives
Of course, that’s all stuff you already knew. I just put that in there for filler. The real reason I’m going to participate in this panel is to schmooze. I have certain questions and comments for the other panel participants.
Tim Jackson, Brand Manager: Masi Bicycles
Me: Hey, so how’s it going?
Tim: Fine.
Me: So, can you comp me a Soulville?
Tim: You are the ten millionth person who has asked me that question.
Andy Pemberton, Publisher: VeloNews
Me: Hi, I’m Elden “Fatty” Nelson.
Andy: Why does that name sound familiar?
Me: No reason, I’m sure.
Andy: Hey, waitasec. You’re the jerk that’s always trashing our ads! (Assos, Cannondale, Lew)
Me: Um, it’s all in good fun, though, right? No hard urgghghlelghr (sound of Fatty being punched in the throat).
Rick Vosper, Rick Vosper Marketing Services
Me: Man, you’re one lucky guy.
Rick: How so?
Me: Well, it’s not everyone who gets hired to work at a company that has the same name as that person himself!
Rick: (Says nothing, walks away while shaking head.)
Jonathan Tessler, Editor-in-Chief: Bicycle.net
Me: So, does it burn you up that “bicycle.com” was already taken?
Jonathan: (Punches Fatty in throat.)
I predict I’m going to be extra extra popular at Interbike.
Comments (74)
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