11.24.2009 | 8:20 am
Tomorrow I plan to write my annual list of things, people, and events that I’m thankful for. Today, though, I want to write about one particular event and something that didn’t happen that from time to time (yesterday most recently) pops into mind, completely unbidden (and, honestly, unwanted).
And every time I remember it, I am incredibly thankful things worked out the way they did.
This happened back when I lived in Orem, Utah. I was driving home in the family minivan, going up Gold River Drive, as I did pretty much every day.
I was driving pretty slow — there were a lot of kids in that neighborhood.
Then, I noticed, behind a car — parked just about where you see the one in this photo — one of my next-door-neighbor’s kids. He was just standing behind that car, not walking anywhere.
But he looked skittish to me. Like he might bolt right in front of me, across the street.
So, as I got close, I tapped the brakes, slowing down just a little bit. Just in case he did run.
Which, as it turns out, was an incredibly fortunate decision, though not for the obvious reason.
The boy didn’t move at all. However, the instant before I pulled past the car parked on the right side of the road, the boy’s sister shot out past the front of that parked car on her Big Wheel.
Right in front of me, and right past. She had just zoomed down the sloped yard — between the trees — on the right side of the road, across the sidewalk, in front of the the parked car, and over over to the opposite side of the road.
I never saw her until she was right in front of me, and then she was past. I missed her by maybe two feet. Maybe just one.
The kids’ mom, who had witnessed the whole thing, called out to me, laughing. “I’m glad you’re watching out for my kids!” she yelled.
She didn’t realize that I had never seen her daughter, and hadn’t slowed down for her at all. I had tapped my brakes for a completely unrelated reason — her son looking a little bit like he might make a break for it.
She didn’t realize that I had just not run over her daughter in front of her because of a very lucky accident.
I drove the remaining 50 feet to my house, parked the van, and went inside. Where I sat down on the floor, with violent shakes and nausea. Considering what had almost happened.
And so thankful it hadn’t.
Comments (45)
11.23.2009 | 11:27 am
A Note About Ordering Fat Cyclist Gear: Twin Six has been working their butts off to get all the 2010 Fat Cyclist pre-orders out the door. If you haven’t gotten your pre-order yet, you will sometime this week.
So if you didn’t pre-order, your chance to order is coming this Friday, 8:00am CST. The remaining stock of 2010 jerseys and shorts will all be for sale, along with the newly-designed 2010 Fat Cyclist T-Shirts, which will feature the cool design you see to the right.
You should know that there are not a lot of extra jerseys; if you delay, you’ll likely miss out.
You’ll find all the Fat Cyclist Gear over at Twin Six starting this Friday, at 8:00am CST.
Buy A Garmin-Slipstream Bottle, Fight Cancer
Early this year, I poked fun at Team Slipstream-Garmin here. They responded by…becoming an incredibly generous partner with Team Fatty in our fight against cancer, sponsoring the 100 Miles of Nowhere race.
And now they want to do more in that fight.
From now until December 15 — plenty of time for Christmas delivery, in other words — Garmin-Slipstream is going to donate 50% of the gross of their sales from their Podium Bottles to the Huntsman Cancer Institute.
Yes, that’s right. 50%. Basically, all the profit.
Why the Huntsman Cancer Institute? Because I asked them too, for one reason. And why did I choose the Huntsman Cancer Institute? Well, those of you who have been with my blog for a while know that they took incredible care of Susan when she needed to have her hip replaced.
And they don’t just take care of people with cancer. The Huntsman Cancer Institute does a lot of vital research for cancer treatment.
So, here’s the deal: Click here to go buy Garmin-Slipstream bottles — they’re the Camelbak Podium bottles I prefer over any other kind of bottle. Buy some for yourself, and maybe buy some for your riding friends — a fourpack of bottles makes a really great gift for a cyclist. Plus, when you buy four or more, they’re $8.00 each instead of $11.00 each.
Regardless of how many you buy, Garmin-Slipstream will donate half your purchase to the Huntsman Cancer Institute. That kicks butt.
And while you’re at it, check out the other Garmin-Slipstream holiday special offers. There’s some good stuff there.
Three Axioms
There are surprisingly few absolute truths in the universe, and fewer still absolute truths in the world of cycling. This fact, which I just discovered upon making it up, startled me because it implies that cycling is a subset of the universe, as opposed to the entirety of said universe. Which I find disconcerting and unpleasant.
I’m rambling. It happens.
The point to which I am leading is that with the paucity of touchstone truths in the universe, one should make a note of whatever important truths one discovers.
And, to my delight, I have discovered three such truths in recent days.
I will now educate you.
1. If You Don’t Use It, You Will In Fact Lose It. I feel a little bit bad about leading off with this truth, because it’s something you may have heard before, except for the “You Will In Fact” part, which makes it original and copyrightable.
I’m pretty sure that this cliche (because until I added the “You Will In Fact” part, it was nothing but a cliche) originally meant that if you don’t use an acquired skill or capability, your proficiency at said skill will degrade over time, until you reach a threshold of no longer having that capability at all.
Which is probably true, but not very interesting.
I now assert, however, that this axiom (yes, I’ve promoted it from cliche to axiom, concurrent with my copyrighting aforementioned axiom) applies to stuff. Specifically, if you don’t use something, you’ll forget where it is.
This happens to me twice each year, as I go from wearing summer cycling clothes to winter cycling clothes. I simply cannot find the winter gloves I bought for riding last year. Nor the insulated tights. Nor the high-tech beanie that fits snugly between my helmet and head.
I haven’t used it. Ergo, I’ve lost it.
As I get older (which seems to be happening more or less all the time), I’ve noticed an acceleration of this axiom, which makes me think there’s a corollary in order:
Corollary: as time passes, you will lose more stuff more quickly.
To illustrate, I have two pair of Oakley biking glasses I really love: My Flak Jackets, and my Jawbones. The Flak Jackets are terrific, but I prefer the Jawbones. So I use the Jawbones more often.
After using the Jawbones exclusively for about a week, I wanted to use the Flak Jackets, just to mix things up a bit.
But I cannot find them anywhere. (I’m not dead certain why I typed “anywhere in that last sentence.” It seems that if I can’t find them, the “anywhere” part is unnecessary. I.e., if I can’t find them in most places but can find them in one or more other place(s), then the whole “I can’t find them” statement falls more or less apart. I need to be more careful with my language, I think.)
And in short, I have not used them, and therefore have in fact lost them. QED.
2. If You Can’t Talk, You’d Better Be Racing, Cuz You’re Not Having Fun. Brad and I were riding a couple weeks ago, going up Clark’s, in Corner Canyon. The whole way up, we were riding a good, hard pace — but we were talking, too. At one point, Brad asked how I was doing. “I’m having fun,” I replied. “I can still talk, but just barely.”
At which point, Brad uttered this axiom: “If you can’t talk, you’d better be racing, cuz you’re not having fun.”
The enormity of this truth stunned both of us. Seriously, the ability to converse on the bike seems to be the dividing line between riding for fun and riding to prove something.
Try it for yourself: Go on a ride with someone. At first, ride at such a pace that you can talk. Consider whether you are having fun.
Then, ride hard enough that you can no longer talk.
After a couple minutes of this, ask yourself the following question: “Am I having fun?” Compare the amount of fun you are (not) having with the fun you were almost certainly having when you could talk.
I submit it will be less.
3. If Your Recipe Contains Eggs, Cheese, and Bacon, It Cannot Fail. Yesterday, I made quiche. Now, people over 35 always make a crack about “Real Men Don’t Eat Quiche,” but those people are usually dumb, and also have not tried my quiche.
Here’s how my quiche is made: get a pie crust, add a lot of cheese, a lot of bacon, and a lot of tomato, avocado, onion, peppers, and mushrooms. Push it all down to make it fit in the crust. Make an egg concoction out of eggs and half-and-half. Pour over the cheese / bacon / vegetable pile.
Bake.
Enjoy.
As I enjoyed this quiche, it occurred to me that I could have made an equally delicious batch of scrambled eggs with the same ingredients. Or an exquisite omelette. Or a casserole.
The fact is, the only difference between all these things is what shape they take as they’re cooked. The truly important thing is that they all have eggs, cheese, and bacon, the perfect triumvirate of comfort food. As long as you use a lot of all three, it’s going to come out delicious.
Corollary: sour cream should go on top.
PS: If, when making quiche, you let some of the egg goop bubble up and over the pan onto the bottom of the oven, for the love of all that’s good in the world, please remember to scrape that stuff off the bottom of the oven before using again, or you will find out whether your smoke alarm works. If you don’t die of asphyxiation, I mean.
PPS: Anyone have a good idea for how to make everything I own stop smelling like smoke?
Comments (47)
11.19.2009 | 8:34 am
This will, I’m sure, come to many of you as a shock, but: I like Oreos. I really like them. I like them so much, in fact, that I generally don’t buy them, because the temptation is simply too strong to eat them.
OK, that’s not true. I do buy Oreos. All the time. But I’m just buying them for the kids, as a treat to put in their otherwise Very Nutritious Lunches which I prepare for them.
OK, that may not be true, either. Well, the part about buying Oreos is true, and I do put some in the kids’ lunches. But I generally will eat an Oreo or two as I put them in the kids lunchboxes.
Or perhaps I might eat three (the official serving size). Or so. Hey, why not?
Oh, because three Oreos has seven grams of fat and 160 calories?
Well, I suppose that’s a fair point.
An Excellent Solution
It was with this fairly phenomenal number in mind — 7g of fat in just 3 cookies — that I recently found myself considering something unusual at the grocery store: buying the Reduced Fat version of Oreos.
30% less fat than the original Oreo? Sounds good. Which means only (ha!) 4.5g of fat in my three cookies.
The thing is, I have a well-defined philosophy on dessert, which I have named Fatty’s Dessert Philosophy:
Fatty’s Dessert Philosophy
Let dessert truly be dessert. If it’s really high-fat, let it be high-fat. If you’re concerned about calories and fat, eat less. But don’t compromise the taste and texture of dessert. Seriously.
There is a minor problem with this philosophy, however, which can be found in the “eat less” clause. Specifically, it finds itself in direct conflict with Fatty’s First Axiom of Junk Food in Pantries, which goes as follows:
Fatty’s First Axiom of Junk Food in Pantries
Any junk food in a pantry, especially cookies — and doubly especially Oreos — in easily opened and accessed packages, will be consumed. Promptly.
So, back to the grocery store (remember?). I decided that by buying the Reduced Fat Oreos, I could combine Fatty’s Dessert Philosophy with Fatty’s First Axiom of Junk Food in Pantries to my weight-gain-fighting advantage. To wit: since Reduced Fat Oreos wouldn’t taste as good, I’d want to eat them less, and might in fact not eat them at all. At which point they of course become not merely reduced fat, but entirely fat free.
Brilliant!
Wherein The Universe Gets Knocked On Its Ear
There was just one small problem with my Very Clever Solution. And that small problem would never, ever ever (ever!) have occurred to me. And I’ll bet it hasn’t occurred to you, either, because it’s just never happened before.
The Reduced Fat Oreos taste better than the original Oreos.
Not “as good.” Not “similar.” Better. Do you see the problem?
Allow me to illustrate.
Here, we have two stacks of cookies. The Reduced Fat Oreos are on the left, the original Oreos are on the right.
In this circumstance, the stack of Oreos on the left are in fact a better (less awful?) eating choice, due to having 30% less fat.
Sadly, the above photo does not reflect reality. Thanks (and I mean that “thanks” very sarcastically) to the excellent taste and mollifying “Reduced Fat” combination, Fatty’s First Axiom of Junk Food in Pantries actually gets cubed. “They’re less-fattening and they taste better?” I find myself asking.
Which leads to the second illustration, once again with the Reduced Fat Oreos on the left, and the original Oreos on the right:
Do I really need to explain what’s happening here? OK, fine. As it turns out, while an individual Reduced Fat Oreo does in fact have less fat than an individual original Oreo, that happy fact tends to be only marginally helpful when you eat a dozen.
Please, somebody help me.
PS: I haven’t done the math, but I’m pretty sure that once you’ve made one additional change to the Reduced Fat Oreo, as follows –
– the whole “Reduced Fat” thing may no longer apply anyway.
Comments (121)
11.18.2009 | 8:34 am
Please allow me to gross you out for a moment:
Pretty nasty, eh? Of course, you’re not getting the full effect without the odor, which is…pungent.
What is the substance in this photo? Well, it’s a symbol of both a tragedy, and a victory.
The tragedy is that I made ten avocados-worth of guacamole for a cul de sac party I had last Friday night, the agenda of which was:
- Eat bratwurst, cabbage salad, and chips with guacamole
- Play Rock Band
Now the party wasn’t tragic. The party was fun. Though I’m a little bit confused as to why everyone goes out of their way to not let me do vocals. I sound great.
The tragedy is that after the party, there was still a lot of guacamole left over. And now it’s Wednesday, and that guacamole has gone bad. Not just a little off. Bad. As in I’m pretty sure it’s started robbing convenience stores and has tattooed “HATE” on the knuckles of its left hand. On its right hand, it’s tattooed “HATE” again, to emphasize the point.
That’s bad.
In short, any time guacamole goes uneaten and is eventually discarded, the world has become a slightly sadder place. That’s the tragedy.
The victory, on the other hand, lies in the fact that I am the only one in my family who loves avocados and guacamole, so if this guacamole had been consumed, it would have been all by me.
But I didn’t. I didn’t sit on a couch with a bag of blue corn tortilla chips (my current favorite) and demonstrate my superpower to that enormous bowl of guacamole. Even though it’s November, the month I traditionally reserve for doing nothing but eating and sleeping.
That’s a victory. A big one.
PS: Today’s weight: 158, up only four pounds since my lightest in September. (And down three pounds since I bumped into the 160s, which I’m doing my best to avoid this winter.)
Comments (54)
11.17.2009 | 8:37 am
A Mo of the Day Note from Fatty: Today’s Team Fatty Movember Mo comes to you courtesy of Michael in TN, who says:
“Just got around to manscaping my mo.”
“It’s struggling, I know. My hair is too light so it looks pretty thin.”
“The wife is not going to be happy when she sees this. Of course, if I could tell her I made it on Fatty’s blog – I’m sure that will take some of the heat off.”
Fatty’s Remark: Anything I can do to help, man.
Meet the Ibisss
I like my bikes light. I like them light, and I like them simple. A carbon fiber singlespeed, for example, is a simple, light bike.
On the dirt, the Superfly Singlespeed scratches this itch rather nicely.
But what about the road?
Well.
Some of you may recall that this summer I got an Orbea Orca with Shimano Di2 components. And some of you may remember that I already owned a really nice road bike — an Ibis Silk Carbon (the Silk SL didn’t come out ’til the following year). And really, two really beautiful carbon road bikes is more than I need.
Unless, that is, the Ibis became my singlespeed road bike.
Which it did.
Now, I’d love to be able to tell you I did the work on this myself. So I will: I did the work on this myself.
Sadly, my enjoyment of saying that is somewhat marred by the fact that it’s entirely untrue. In reality I went to Racer of Racer’s Cycle Service and said, “Make this into a light singlespeed. I don’t need or want drops. I don’t want a chain tensioner. Have fun!”
So, working with my incredibly precise directions, Racer removed the cassette, derailleurs and shifters, and found a magic gear that works with the vertical dropouts:
That’s a 42 x 17. Count ‘em. (You don’t have to really count them.)
Then he put on a CobraWing bar, with TT brake levers.
And how much does this bike weigh, complete with pedals and bottle cages (i.e., this is its actual riding weight)?
13.18 pounds.
Again, to be clear: thirteen point one eight pounds.
Sometimes, to impress other cyclists, I toss it thirty feet into the air and watch it lazily flutter to the ground. wafting lazily on the light breeze.
How it Rides
Any well-maintained bike is pretty quiet, but this bike – The Ibisss (hold the “s” for a long time when you pronounce it), I like to call it — is utterly silent.
And off the line, this bike fairly flies. You really can feel the negligibility of the bike’s weight during that initial surge.
Once in motion, the gearing is fine for flat (I’ll sometimes spin out, but only rarely) and climbing. The exception being that when I did my first ride on this bike, I climbed the North side of Suncrest, which is about as brutal a climb as I have easy access to.
I did manage the climb, but I suffered. Mightily.
Next Steps
Clearly, this is a very niche-specific bike. Really, I imagine it being really great for one thing: climbing the Alpine Loop.
Which got me thinking.
First of all, I currently have two bottle cages. Sure, they’re just little wisps of bottle cages, but there are two of them. For a climb up the Alpine Loop, I can get rid of one. Or both. Go thirsty on the climb, and beg something to drink off someone at the top.
Next, I know for a fact that with a tallish gear like what I’ve got, I’m going to do most of my climbing in a standing position. So why not just fully commit and get rid of the saddle and seat post?
You see where I’m going with this?
Finally, if this really is a climbing-specific machine (and thanks to the lack of saddle, I think I could say it is), do I really need brakes or their accompanying levers? Of course not. Sure, it might be a little risky to ride a freewheeled bike with no brakes, but I live for danger. Totally.
I estimate that with these modifications — no cages, saddle / seatpost, or brakes, this bike will come in at just about eleven pounds.
And once I sand the chrome off the spokes (rotating weight = bad!), it’ll weigh even less.
Comments (57)
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