03.29.2011 | 1:13 pm
A Note from Fatty: This is the second part of a multi-part entry. I say “multi-part” because right now I actually have no idea how many parts it will wind up being. Anyways, today’s post will make a lot more sense if you read yesterday’s post Click here to read Fatty’s Inferno, Part I.
“Choose a road,” The Cyclist said.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“That depends on the road you choose.”
“Well,” I replied, trying to be reasonable, “generally I choose a road based on where I want to go.”
“That,” said The Cyclist, “is total nonsense. As a cyclist, you have ridden countless miles and have, almost without exception, wound up exactly where you started. Like all cyclists, you choose the road for the experience the road brings you, not because you have a destination in mind.”
“OK, fine,” I said, wondering if The Cyclist was always going to be so annoyingly cryptic. “I choose whatever road is the best for riding.”
Frankly, I expected The Cyclist to knock the choice back into my court with some kind of mumbo-jumbo like “One man’s best is another’s bane” or something like that, so I did a mental double-take when he instead merely said, “Excellent. Let’s ride,” and smoothly transitioned from his stock-still trackstand (such was my dream that, until this point, I did not until that moment realize The Cyclist had been trackstanding the whole time we were talking) to a razor-straight riding line.
I got on my bike and pursued.
First Circle
I rode hard, trying to catch The Cyclist, and eventually managed to grab his wheel. Catching my breath, I looked down at the way he pedaled.
He was turning perfect circles. Not nearly perfect. Perfect. Somehow I knew.
“Hey,” I objected, “I’m pretty sure I read somewhere that it’s physiologically impossible to turn actual perfect circles.”
“For you, it is. And so it is for these riders, too.”
All at once, I noticed other riders, at which point I could not understand how I had missed them before.
They were riding side-by-side, talking and laughing. Riding — some easily, some not so easily — and enjoying the day and each other’s company.
The sun had come out, partially. It was light outside, but with little glare, and the sun was in nobody’s eyes. The temperature was an ideal 70 degrees fahrenheit.
“Well,” I thought to myself, “this is a really nice day for a ride.”
“It’s always this nice,” said The Cyclist. “The sun is always directly overhead here, so it cannot get in your eyes, but there’s always just enough cloud cover that there’s no glare. There’s also always just the slightest hint of a tailwind.”
“Is this guy always monitoring my thoughts?” I wondered.
“Yes,” replied The Cyclist. “However, I only reply to the ones worth replying to. Which you’ll probably find is a lot less often than you’d hope.”
“Speaking of thoughts,” continued The Cyclist, “It surprises me greatly that you have not yet considered the road surface.”
He was right. I hadn’t. Honestly, though, I think I can be forgiven for not thinking about the road ’til that moment, because there was nothing to think about. No road vibration. No cracks. No potholes. No crumbling shoulder. Just perfect, smooth, virgin tarmac.”
“This is amazing,” I said. “This is the most incredible pavement I have ever seen, much less ridden on.”
“And you shall never ride its equal again. This place has the best riding surface in the entire universe.”
“But I’m confused,” I said, with a confused look on my face. “You told me before that I was in hell, and then you take me on a place I’d gladly ride in for eternity. I can see there are long flats, curvy roads, challenging climbs, and fun descents. The road’s perfect and so is the weather. Everyone looks incredibly happy. How can you possibly call this ‘hell’?”
The Cyclist raised a gloved hand and pointed a finger at a passing group of cyclists. “Look at their bikes.”
He was right. Their bikes — and, come to think of it, the bikes ridden by everyone I had seen on this road — weren’t exactly awful, but they were far from great. Entry level steel bikes, some aluminum, a lot of hybrids. No carbon anywhere. No high-end components, either. No bike, in fact, that cost more than $699.
“So that’s what makes this place hell?” I asked. “Riding a bike that’s just OK, instead of incredible? ‘Cuz these people don’t look all that tormented. They seem to be having fun, in fact.”
“But,” said The Cyclist, “they have never ridden an extraordinary bike, and so an adequate one seems just fine to them. They have never fussed over the quality of a high-end chamois, so any pair of riding shorts seems comfortable. They haven’t ridden on enough roads in their lifetime to realize that they are now riding on the most perfect riding surface imaginable.”
“So,” concluded my guide, they’re having fun, all right,” said The Cyclist. “In fact, this place isn’t even hell for the people who are here. They’re very happy. Maybe they even think they’re in heaven. The point is, these are the cyclists who don’t know any better.”
“So this is some kind of Limbo?” I asked. “A place where cyclists who just rode for fun go, and their punishment is that they never realize how good they’ve got it, while never knowing that if they had a better bike, eternity could be that much better?”
“That’s part of it,” said The Cyclist. “More importantly, though, I take every really hardcore cyclist for a spin on this road before taking them to their final destination, just to rub their noses in it a little.”
[To be continued in Fatty's Inferno, Part III]
Comments (30)
03.28.2011 | 4:40 pm
I woke in a fever, breathing hard. Terror in my heart, an eternity of horrors burning so bright in my mind that it took a full minute before I realized I was safe.
In bed. Alive.
Eventually, the shaking and the sweating stopped, and I went about my day. But — even as I went through the motions — I could not take my mind off this dream. For, unlike most dreams that are remembered only vaguely and recede even in the first telling, this dream remained at the forefront of my thoughts.
And to begin thinking about it was to begin — once again — reliving the torment.
It was too much.
So now, in an effort to control the wild terror in my heart by describing it, I take pen to paper and recount (in plain prose, so that I can be plainly understood):
The Dream Begins
The dream begins at the junction of seven roads in a deep and dark valley. Is it dusk or overcast? I cannot tell. I can only see that the roads are all paved and go in different directions. There are signs labeling each road, but I cannot read them; it is too dark, and what characters I can see are not in any alphabet that I recognize.
I stand alone, wobbling slightly on my feet. I look down and see why I am unable to stand steadily: I am wearing bike shoes, with Speedplay cleats mounted.
What is this place? Why am I here? Why is my jersey so uncomfortable? Why can’t I find something to clean my glasses with? I have so many questions.
And then a Man — a man I had not seen before but I am now quite sure was there all along — speaks.
“Your bike is laying drivetrain-side down.”
I gasp, now seeing my beloved road bike in the dirt. It is, as the Man said, resting on its rear derailleur, the frame, and the bar tape. I grimace, wondering how it came to rest like this, knowing that I would never knowingly do such a thing myself.
“In this place,” the Man said, “All bikes lay on their drivetrain sides.”
Rolling my eyes, I pick up my bike and show the man what nonsense he speaks by laying the bike down correctly.
“Behold,” the man says, pointing.
Not wanting to but unable to stop myself, I look down.
My bike is laying on its derailleur again.
“Who are you?” I wonder aloud?
“I am The Cyclist,” he says, and I notice now that he is wearing full kit, all black, with a black helmet and black shoes and black glasses. His bike is similarly black. And in short, The Cyclist seems to have a thing for black.
“And what is this place?” I groan, as I attempt, unsuccessfully, trying repeatedly to put my bike down in such a way that it doesn’t scratch, bend, or otherwise screw up my drivetrain.
The Cyclist looks at me — through his sunglasses I see eyes of pure fire — and says what I know he will say.
“You are in hell.”
[To be continued in Fatty's Inferno, Part II]
Comments (24)
03.24.2011 | 1:02 pm
Years and years ago (2008), I had a terrible idea: I bet a bunch of Fat Cyclist readers that I could ride my rollers for 100 miles. A lot of you took me up on that bet, and I raised around $1,000 for LiveStrong — and had a story to tell.
A year later, I did it again. But this time a bunch of you joined in, each of you donating generously for the privilege of riding your bikes for 100 miles either indoors at your home or on a ridiculously short course near your house. Then you sent in your stories. And amazing videos.
And then, last year, the event got huge. 500 of you signed up, and we made a ton of money for LiveStrong to use in supporting people in the fight against cancer. Many sponsors sent in awesome stuff, making the 100 Miles of Nowhere event one of the swaggiest events ever.
And for a couple of days, I got to post the incredible stories you sent in.
Now it’s 2011, and the single-most common email question I get is “When Is the Next 100 Miles of Nowhere?”
Well, it’s high time you get some details.
What Is The 100 Miles of Nowhere, And Why Should You Do It?
The idea of the 100 Miles of Nowhere is to ride an infuriatingly small course for 100 miles (or 50, or 25, but ideally 100), to fight cancer and to show you have no sense at all. The profits from your race registration go to LiveStrong, to help them as they help people, worldwide, in their battle against cancer.
The 100 Miles of Nowhere is a race without a place. It’s an event in which hundreds of people participate . . . all by ourselves.
You’ll have fun. You’ll be miserable. And, thanks to the fact that there won’t be hundreds of people all over the place, you almost certainly won’t have to wait for fifteen minutes to use an overflowing portapotty.
And you get some pretty decent bragging rights. Namely, if you take some good pictures of you (and your friends) doing the 100 Miles of Nowhere and send me a good writeup, I’ll post it on the blog.
Also, you get to claim that you won your division . . . since you get to create your own division. For example, I am the three-year consecutive reigning champion of the “Alpine Men’s 40-45 on Rollers” division. Which is a pretty big deal, if you ask me.
Most importantly, though, is the fact that you’re joining Team Fatty in our ongoing fight against cancer. And that matters.
The Timeline
So when do you sign up, and when’s the race? Well, here are the dates you need to know:
Event Registration: April 11 – 18. Be certain that you register ASAP. Like last year, I expect this year to sell out again this year. Registration will be $85 this year.
Race Day: June 4. But many people have emailed me saying that date doesn’t work for them, and they’d like to do it a day or two (or week or two) earlier or later. That is perfectly fine. But if you can do the 100 Miles of Nowhere on June 4, please do. For solidarity.
Stories: Please send your race stories as soon after the race as possible. Like, the same day if you can. Any stories received after June 6 probably won’t make it into the blog (unless they’re so awesome I simply cannot resist).
The Sponsors and The Swag
Here’s a true fact: If I were to call you on the phone right now and ask you to give me something, you’d almost certainly give it to me.
That’s one of my superpowers: asking for stuff.
Luckily for you, I use this power for good, not evil. At least 80% of the time, anyway.
Specifically, I’ve used my superpower of asking several companies I like to send you some great stuff. Here’s what you’ll be getting:
Twin Six: The Event T-Shirt: My good friends at Twin Six are currently hard at work designing a cool T-shirt you can proudly wear to proclaim that you don’t have a lick of sense and therefore chose to ride your bike for 100 miles without going anywhere. The design isn’t done, but check out this sneak peek:
A Race Plate: My favorite souvenir of races is the race plate I get to put on my bike. The Runner and I like to staple them to the wall in the garage. So this year I’ve asked Bike Monkey — the folks who promote and run the amazing Levi’s GranFondo — to design a race plate you can attach to your bike. You know, so the fans will be able to recognize you.
PRO Bars : I am totally addicted to PRO Bars — it’s just amazing how much better than normal energy bars they taste. Nuts, fruit, berries — they’re just good (and they’re vegan, which I believe will make at least some of you happy).
And now PRO Bar is introducing Halo bars, “The Sinfully Healthy Snack,” which you’ll be getting in your swag box.
These are so new that I haven’t even tried one yet. But I have a suspicion I’m going to like them.
An Issue (and special subscription rate) of Bike Monkey Magazine: Tired of biking magazines that teach you the same 15 tips and tricks, over and over and over, year after year? Or that review stuff you’ll never even consider buying? Then you’ll enjoy Bike Monkey, a magazine that’s about people, bikes, and rides. I dig it, and hopefully will someday be good enough to write for it.
You’ll get a free issue of Bike Monkey with your swag box, as well as a great discount offer in case you decide to subscribe. Which you should.
Leverage : True story. As I was killing time in the Chicago airport with a co-worker, he mentioned his favorite show is Leverage — an action-packed show about a group of thieves who run cons to help people who have nowhere to turn.
I downloaded an episode, and it quickly became one of my favorite shows for while riding the rollers.
Then — in a coincidence of awesome proportions — I found out that Paul Guyot, a Friend of Fatty and frequent commenter, is actually a writer/producer for Leverage. He hooked me up to the show, and now you’re going to get a coupon to download an episode for free. Huzzah!
Banjo Brothers Seat Bag: You know who the first advertiser I ever had was? You know who the first company that ever did giveaways with me was? In both cases, it was Banjo Brothers, a small company making great bags for cyclists. I have their Seat Bags on every single bike I own — both road and mountain.
This year, Banjo Brothers will be supplying a variety of different seat bags for the 100 Miles of Nowhere. Which will you get — the Mini, the Small, the Medium, or the Large? You won’t know ’til you get your box.
Surprises are awesome.
And a free bike bag is even awesomer.
If that’s possible.
DZ-Nuts: DZ Nuts returns for a third year as a sponsor of the 100 Miles of Nowhere. Awesome. If you use chamois cream, it’s high time you try DZ-Nuts. If you have never tried chamois cream, I cannot think of a more perfect time to begin. As I have noted in my review, this is good stuff.
Seriously, if you’re going to be riding your bike for 100 miles and not going anywhere while doing it, you should at least be protecting your junk.
Right?
CarboRocket “Half Evil” CR333 : A couple years ago, my friend Brad told me about a new sports drink he had in mind: something powerful enough that you could drink it — and consume nothing else — long term, for however big your ride is.
Soon, had had invented “CR333″ — because it has 333 calories per serving.
“You know,” I said, “333″ is half the number of the beast. You should call it ‘Half-Evil’ in your tagline.”
In my defense, I didn’t honestly expect him to take me seriously.
Taglines notwithstanding, CR333 is amazing. You seriously can go all day with it. No upset stomach, no bonk. And 100 Miles of Nowhere racers will be the first people in the world to get to try out the new single-serve packets, in both raspberry and lemonade.
Winchester Bars: What’s the antidote to yet another energy gel or energy chew or whatever? Meat-ergy is, that’s what.
Since getting a couple of boxes of these Winchester Beef and Cranberry bars, both the Runner and I have become huge fans. They’re like jerky, but with cranberry to give both taste and texture variety.
I was kidding when I wrote my original “Meat-ergy” post, but I’m not kidding at all when I say that these are fantastic. And if you’re a vegetarian, you can give yours to someone who isn’t. They’ll be glad you did. (And I’ll leave you to consider the ethical considerations of a vegetarian giving meat to someone.).
My 100 Miles of Nowhere Plan (You Should Join Me If You’re Local)
I plan to make an event of the 100 Miles of Nowhere. On June 4, starting around 5:00am, The Runner and I are going to ride the Suncrest hill as many times as necessary to do 100 miles. We plan to ride from the Alpine City Park to the top of the South Side of Suncrest, then down to the bottom of the North side of Suncrest. That’s 10 miles, with 1225 feet of climbing.
Then, of course, we’ll retrace our steps. So one complete out-and-back is 20 miles, with 2500 feet of climbing.
Which means, after 5 laps, we’ll have ridden 100 miles and climbed around 12,500 feet.
That’s a whole lotta nowhere.
We’ve asked some friends to join us, so there’ll be at least five other people doing this ride with us. And we’d love to have any local riders who want an intense day of riding — and climbing — nowhere to join us.
Of course, if our route seems too mild, you could just do the North side of Suncrest, over and over. By my calculations, that should — in 15 laps — give you 100 miles and 18,375 feet of climbing. That would be a pretty amazing claim to fame.
I’ll post more details soon. But if you’re local, mark your calendar: June 4 is the 100 Miles of Nowhere @ Suncrest.
It’s gonna hurt.
What Are You Going to Do for the 100 Miles of Nowhere?
So, now you know when you need to register. You know how much it’ll cost. You know what’s going in the bag.
Now you need to ask yourself, “What course am I going to ride?” You see, when I originally created the 100 Miles of Nowhere, I simply thought of it as 100 miles on my rollers. But readers took the idea and came up with much more creative and interesting ways to ride 100 miles. On a unicycle. Around a roundabout. On an aircraft carrier.
So I’d like to have you post in the comments section your idea for what kind of course you’re planning for the 100 Miles of Nowhere. And are you going to be riding it yourself? Or with a large group?
Comments (119)
03.23.2011 | 7:10 am
Today’s a big day. Johan Bruyneel — the 9-times winning Tour de France sports director and the man Phil Liggett says is “certainly the best director right now, and arguably ever” — is coming here today to take questions from Fat Cyclist readers.
The conversation will happen at this very URL, and begins at 5:30pm (ET) / 2:30pm (PT).
I’ve made no secret that I consider Johan to be one of the greats. He obviously knows his job, can take a joke (and turn it into an amazing event), and cares deeply about important causes (World Bicycle Relief chief among them).
So it’s a big honor to have him here. And to make sure Johan gets treated like the honored guest he is, I’m going to lay out some info and ground rules:
- The “Living Room Rule” applies. You and Johan are both literally my guests here. In the same way I would not tolerate one guest being rude to another at my house, I will not tolerate one guest being rude to another here. And since this is my virtual house, I get to decide what “rude” means.
- Let’s have an interesting variety of topics. I’m sure that at some point we’ll get to both doping and the radio ban. But let’s not have all the questions be about doping or the radio ban, OK?
- Question moderation is on. When you enter your question, it appears in a list that both Johan and I — but not the public — can see. Both of us have the power to choose questions and make them public, at which point Johan will answer it. Or I might, if I feel like it.
- If Johan doesn’t answer your question, don’t feel bad. There are going to be a lot of people asking a lot of questions, all at once. Johan can’t possibly answer all of them. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t like you.
- Be nice. Pretty decent advice for life in general, really.
I’m excited. Really excited.
See you here at 5:30pm (ET) / 4:30pm (CT) / 3:30pm (MT) / 2:30pm (PT)!
Comments (29)
03.22.2011 | 10:01 am
A Note from Fatty: Hey, guess what. I’m the guest blogger for Bill Strickland’s “The Selection” blog over at Biclycling.com today. Why don’t you do me a favor and go read it?
Tomorrow’s going to be a big day for this blog and me — at 5:30PM (ET) / 2:30PM (PT) I’ll be moderating a live Q&A chat with Johan Bruyneel.
Yes, that’s right. Johan Bruyneel.
He’s going to be here, live and online, taking questions as you ask them and giving answers.
So, if you’ve ever wanted to talk with the man Phil Liggett describes as arguably the best team director in the history of the sport, be sure to come here tomorrow and at 5:30PM (ET) / 2:30PM (PT) and join the conversation.
This is something you do not want to miss. Nor do I, for that matter.
Awesome Dress Rehearsal with Twin Six
Here’s the thing, though. I’ll be using live blogging software (coveritlive.com) for the live chat with Johan — and I’ve never used it before. And frankly, I don’t like the idea of using this tool for the first time ever as this interview begins.
So, as practice, I’ll be doing a Q&A today at 4:30PM (ET) / 1:30PM (PT) with Ryan Carlson and Brent Gale from the hip bike clothing design company that all the cool kids are copying, Twin Six.
Frankly, I think it’s going to be a terrific conversation, for the following reasons:
- The Twin Six guys are an awesome success story. Two friends had a great idea — make cycling clothes that look great — and have made a successful business out of it.
- The Twin Six guys are smart and funny. I call them all the time just to talk, because they crack me up. Sometimes we talk for hours. Sometimes they tell me to leave them alone; they have work to do.
- The Twin Six guys are working on the design for the next 100 Miles of Nowhere T-Shirt right now. Maybe you can give them some suggestions on what you’d like to see that shirt look like.
- The Twin Six guys are working on the design for the 2012 Fat Cyclist jersey right now. They haven’t shown me a thing. Maybe we can get them to give us some hints on what it’ll look like.
- The Twin Six 2011 collection is incredible. Seriously, check it out. And be sure to check out their super-secret “Dark” collection, too. Wow. If there is one jersey I absolutely must have this year, it’s this one. Or maybe it’s this one. Or maybe it’s both.
So, come back at 4:30PM (ET) / 1:30PM (PT) today. Bring your questions and comments, kudos and ideas, for Twin Six. And for me. Cuz I guess I wouldn’t mind answering a couple questions, too.
It’ll be fun. Provided, of course, I get the interviewing software software working.
PS: And — just one more time — be certain to come back tomorrow at 5:30PM (ET) / 2:30PM (PT) for the Johan Bruyneel chat.
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