09.8.2009 | 6:42 am
A Note from Fatty: My friends Kenny and Brad raced the inaugural Park City Point 2 Point last Saturday as members of Team Fatty. They, um, well dominated the single speed division. Brad’s report is here (and well worth reading). Here’s Kenny’s report.
When I first started endurance racing there was always a good deal of travel involved. Races like the Leadville Trail 100, the Brian Head Epic and The Cascade Cream Puff, got me hooked on endurance mountain bike racing.
As these types of races became more popular, it became easier to stay closer to home. There was the e-100, the Perfect 10, and now the Park City Point 2 Point. I try to support local races when I can and it’s nice to be able to sleep in your own bed the night before. The PCP2P has taken all the good things from past Park City endurance races and has put together what I think is Utah’s premier endurance mountain bike event. Jay Burke and Shannon Buffeli have worked hard to put together a terrific race in a pristine mountain bike community.
Unspoken Competition
My buddy Brad and I have known each other for 8 to 10 years.
We’ve done countless races together and always finish close to one another. Sometimes he wins, sometimes I win. And when neither one of us wins, we always know which of us finished ahead of the other. We never really talk about it, but there is always an underlying competition and I know it’s discussed between our Core group of friends.
My number one race goal was to win the single speed division, which would also mean beating Brad. I know that Brad had similar aspirations, because he predicted it on his blog. After that, I wanted to be in the top 10 overall finishers and get the sub 8 hour medallion.
The Race
Brad and I lined up together about 25 places from the front waiting for Jay to yell go thru his megaphone.
As I always do at the starting line, I was running a check list thru my mind. Gels, tube, water, carbo rocket, tools, pump….
Oh crap, I had forgotten my pump.
I looked back to where the car was parked, wondering if I had time to go grab it. Just then Jay said “Are you ready for the inaugural Park City Point to Point? 20 seconds” it looked like I was going to have to do the first 35 miles without a bike pump. What seemed like 5 minutes later, he yelled “Go!” and we took off.
My race strategy has always been as follows: I shut my brain off and pedal has hard as I can. I don’t wear a watch or heart monitor. My brain can’t process any of that information. I just ride hard until my body decides the pace.
This time, there was only a short shakeout before we hit the singletrack.
I was able to move up a few spots, but because of the nature of the trail, I was unable to pass, which meant I was not riding at the pace that my body was telling me to go. I was getting a bit frustrated, especially when we would hit a steep hill and everyone in front of me would shift into their granny gear. I was able to move up a few more spots and caught a group of riders that were riding about the pace that I wanted to ride.
Important Realization
Then it hit me, all of a sudden: This is an awesome trail. I’m going to be riding 75 miles of some of the best mountain bike trails anywhere. So, I should just chill and turn my brain back on, just enough, to enjoy the experience.
I started to look around. Park City is a beautiful place for a race. There were dark clouds with blue skies poking through, and just a sprinkle of rain to keep me cool.
I looked back to see if I could see Brad. I couldn’t see him, but what I did see was the most incredible rainbow ever. I think it was actually three rainbows stacked on top of one another.
I was able to keep this frame of mind through most of the race. My legs felt great. I was enjoying the climbs. I was loving the descents. I was in a great mood. I even started doing something I rarely do during a race. I started talking to the people I was racing with. I was caught by a guy on a single speed and introduced myself. His name was Mike from Midway and he was wearing a tuxedo for a jersey.
This didn’t seem all that strange to me, because most of the guys I ride with all ride single speeds and have a great sense of humor. So, in my mind, single speed equals humor.
I rode with Mike for hours. I could tell he chose a really tall gear for this race. When the hills were long and steep he would get off and push. I’d get ahead a bit and then he’d catch back up on the flats. This happened over and over. He kept saying that his legs were cooked, but every time I looked back, there was that tuxedo jersey like a slap in the face. Not so funny anymore.
At mile 55, Mike and I left the Park city resort feed zone at the same time. My wife, who graciously agreed to spend her day supporting me, had let me know that Brad had been only minutes back at every aid station.
I knew the last 20 miles would start with a long sustained climb up the Spiro trail followed by lots of rolling flats along Mid Mountain with a descent into the Canyons ski resort. I knew that Mike, with his harder gear, would have a tougher time keeping up on the climb. I needed to put enough distance on the climb that he wouldn’t be able to catch up again before I descended to the finish. I also knew that Brad would be close behind.
It was now or never.
I shut my brain off again and started to hammer. Mike and I climbed together for a while. I could tell that he was getting off to push his bike more than I was on the steeper sections, so I tried to stay on the bike as much as possible. After what seemed like endless switchbacks, I could no longer see that tuxedo bobbing in the distance.
As the trail leveled out, I realized that my legs felt fresh. It was as if my bike was designed for the trail I was riding. I could power the ups and coast thru the downs, keeping my momentum fast. I knew that only two things could stop me from meeting my goal; a crash or a mechanical.
I was riding out of my head and pushing the envelope. I was trying to ride smart, but I knew I had to keep my speed up. On some rough sections of Mid-mountain trail, I hit some sharp boulders that I thought should have bent my rims or at the very least ripped out the side walls of my tires. On one hard bump, I felt my ti rail break under my saddle.
It made it awkward to sit and sometimes pinched the back of my thigh when I was descending, but I could tell it wasn’t going to be a deal breaker.
Result
Before I knew it I was on a trail descending down to the Canyons ski resort. I could hear the music playing and I could smell the burgers cooking at the finish. I had given it everything I had and all I had to do was coast down to the finish.
I came up to a fork in the trail with a couple of volunteers standing near. One way led down towards the finish and the other turned upwards to an unknown climb. It’s amazing the change of emotion that hit me when they pointed to the direction that I was supposed to go.
“Are you sure?” I asked.
I really thought they were just playing a joke. I was waiting for them to say, “Just kidding. Go that way, the finish is just minutes away.” But, they didn’t and I kept going, limping along, swearing under my breath.
After fifteen minutes of pure hell, I was on that down hill trail and I knew my race was coming to an end. I had held off Mike and Brad as I coasted on to the pavement and across the finish line. I was done.
I had ridden 75 miles and climbed over 14,000 feet, all on the best trails Park City has to offer. My finish time was 8:13 and I was 14th overall, once you subtract the duo teams.
I took first in Single Speed, Brad took third. Team Fatty owned the day.
If anybody asks me, “What trails did you ride at the Park City Point 2 Point?” my response will be, “all of them”.
As for Elden’s dilemma about getting some color on his pasty white shins, I have my own solution… dirt.
PS: Thanks again to Jay and Shannon for putting on a terrific race. It will be on my calendar for years to come.
Comments (35)
09.3.2009 | 7:32 am
There are many good things about being a Beloved and Award-Winning Internet Cycling Celebrity, such as myself. There’s the adoration. The respect. The way a room goes quiet upon my entrance. There’s the realization that, when I am in a given public place — like a supermarket at 11:30pm, purchasing milk because I just barely realized that otherwise cold cereal will be a problem the next morning and that would be very very bad — I am quite likely the most famous person in that building.
It’s breathtaking, really, how awesome I am.
More wonderful than all the other wonderful things about me, however, is something which actually has very little to do with me. And that wonderful thing is actually two wonderful things. And those wonderful things are my legs.
Gaze upon them, if you will.
I know, I know. You are saying to yourself, “Are these truly legs of a man, or of a Titan?!” And I understand your awe. I really do, for I stand in front of a mirror daily, experiencing that same sense of wonder.
By the way, please pay no attention to the scabbiness of my right knee and the dry scaliness on both my kneecaps. What I want you to focus on is the fact that my legs are well-muscled (and very-recently-shaven, which goes to show you exactly to what lengths I will go to to get beautiful images on this blog). Those are strong legs. Climber’s legs. Cyclist’s legs.
And yet, perfectionist that I am, I am not satisfied. For I notice one important problem, which gives me untold sadness.
Namely, my quads — which are nicely tanned and (I think you will agree) almost unbearably sexy — are about thirty shades darker than my shins, which are pasty white.
To get the full effect, it may be helpful to have a side-by-side comparison of one of my forearms to one of my shins.
Now you understand my pain.
Also, I should point out that it was not at all easy for me to take this picture. To see what I mean, try holding your camera with one hand while taking a side-by-side shot of your other arm, all whilst in the middle of a deep knee-bend.
It’s not easy. But I did it anyways, for you. I go to great lengths for my art’s sake.
This leg-tanness dissonance, dear reader, is not intentional. I do not apply baby oil to the top of my legs, followed by SPF 3,000 sunblock to my lower legs. It will surprise you to know that I in fact apply the same strength of sunblock evenly, to all parts of my legs.
And yet.
Now, some of this tragic darkness discrepancy is due to expected causes. My quads, which are frequently somewhat horizontal when I am on a bike, are of course more directly exposed to the sun. So of course they’re going to be a little bit darker than my lower legs.
But I believe there is more to it than this.
I believe that my shins — and my calves, which you will have to trust are in no darker a condition than my shins — are milky white because of shade.
Specifically, because of the shade of my quads.
Yes, my quads are so daunting, so enormous, so downright shade-producing that no light gets past them, leaving my shins to believe it is midnight or perhaps the day of a solar eclipse, even when I am riding in the brightest daylight.
If my shins were plants, living through photosynthesis, they would have withered and died by now, murdered by my quads.
And what is tragic — really and truly tragic — is that I do not know how to remedy this problem. Oh, sure, I’ve brainstormed a little bit and have come up with some ideas:
- Wrap electrical tape around my quads before each ride until they fade to the same near-transparent hue of my shins.
- Apply that weird fake-tan lotion stuff to my shins.
- Lay in the sun, baking myself to an even tan.
- Get a full-lower-leg tattoo. Not of anything, just a nice even color wash tattoo the color of my quads in Summer.
I do not find any of these methods entirely satisfactory, however, for the following reasons:
- Electrical tape: If I were to wrap my quads, nobody could see them. And I don’t want to deprive the world of the sight of my quads; that would be cruel.
- Fake tan lotion: I don’t think I could ever get a decent color match.
- Traditional suntanning: I don’t think my shins would ever catch up.
- Full lower-leg tattoo: Actually, I can’t think of any cons to this.
So you see, dear reader, that while my legs are indeed almost unimaginably wonderful, their very magnificence brings problems of their own.
Let that be a lesson to us all.
PS: Don’t even get me started on the freakishness that is my wrist-hand tanline:
Comments (221)
09.2.2009 | 9:51 am
A Note from Fatty: The 2010 Fat Cyclist Apparel Pre-Order extravaganza is now over. Thanks to everyone who ordered something! If you missed the pre-order somehow, you’ll get another chance to order after everything comes in, all the pre-orders have been sent, and there’s been a reasonable amount of time for “settling” — exchanges, replacements, etc. — and Twin Six knows what their actual inventory is.
Win a Fat Cyclist Jersey: My good friend Bob Bringhurst is riding in the Washington MS150 in a couple weeks, and I’d like to help him raise money for it. So, if you’ll donate here – any amount at all — I’ll pick a winner at random and give him / her the 2010 Fat Cyclist jersey of your choice. This contest is for today only, so don’t put off donating. Click here to get started.
It was an incredibly bright spot in an incredibly difficult day. I came home from Susan’s funeral completely drained — cried out, tired out, and relieved I had survived talking at my own wife’s funeral.
And there was a box. From Shimano. A complete Dura-Ace Di2 group, and a personal, private note.
I simply couldn’t believe it. Ditching my family and friends, I ran up to my computer and dashed off an email, thanking him for this incredible gift, and for helping me get away from my thoughts for a while.
“Now I need to figure out a wheelset and frame to go with this,” I concluded.
Moments later, I got a brief reply back:
“So I guess the wheelset hasn’t arrived yet?”
And sure enough, the next day another box came: Dura-Ace Carbon Tubeless wheels.
And then an introductory email to Orbea, where I got an incredible deal on a 2010 Orbea Orca frame, which I of course ordered in Orange — not only is that the Euskaltel-Euskadi team color, but it goes very nicely with the orange and black Fat Cyclist jersey.
Which, by the way, I always arrange to be wearing when I ride this bike.
I completed the bike with a PRO Vibe bar, stem, and seatpost, as well as Speedplay pedals and a Selle Italia SLR saddle.
Take a look (click any of the pictures below for a larger version):
I love all my bikes. All of them. But this is a work of art.
Riding With Di2
I’ve heard a lot of people dismiss the Di2 components. After all, it’s not exactly difficult to shift without electronics, right?
But those people haven’t tried Di2. Now I have, and I am in love. And I’ve let Mark and Brad ride my bike, and they both fell in love (the on-road exchange with Brad didn’t last long; I had never noticed before, but Brad’s legs are so incredibly long that I was completely unable to turn the pedals when sitting. Seriously, I could barely reach the pedals at the 3 and 9 position.). It doesn’t take long to see why:
- Instant shifts, no matter where you’re riding: In the big ring on a climb and you want to drop to the small ring? The Di2 front derailleur does it instantly. I’m pretty sure I’m going to unlearn everything I’ve learned before about having to shift before the climb. With this group, instead of you having to adapt when you shift to when the bike will allow it, you shift when you need to, at the literal touch of a button. There’s a big difference.
- No-effort shifting: I injured my left wrist a couple years ago, and now by the time I’ve been riding for three or four hours, it’s painful enough for me to shift — with a traditional derailleur — to the big ring that I sometimes am not able to do it. With Di2, making this shift takes exactly the same amount of effort as clicking a mouse button.
- It’s smart: This isn’t just electronic shifting, it’s electronic shifting with a brain. As you work your way up or down the cassette, the front derailleur automatically trims. If your shifts aren’t perfect, work your way up and down the cassette and the derailleur figures out where it ought to be.
- No cable stretch: No cables mean no cable stretch.
- Stingy on the power: I assumed that I’d need to recharge the battery every couple of rides. Wrong. A battery charge is good for months. To me, that seems like dark magic, but I’m OK with dark magic in this instance.
- It sounds awesome: When you shift, it makes a little servo sound, like R2D2’s your copilot.
The only downside I’ve noticed, so far, is that I’ve become a shifting fool. I shift all the time, just for the fun of it…and because I like that cool sound.
Riding With the Orca
I know some people who detect even the slightest variations in components and frames. I am not one of those people. A bike has to be radically different for me to notice a change.
The 2010 Orca is radically different from any road bike I’ve ridden before, in one really great way: the front feels more stable and solid than anything I’ve ever ridden. I’ve never thought to myself before this, “Hmm, my bike’s front end feels flexy,” but — and I think this is because of the tapered headtube/fork — this bike feels incredibly stable and responsive.
And I’m pretty sure this isn’t just something in my head, either — Mark noticed the same thing.
In short, I’m in road bike heaven. Thanks, Shimano. Thanks, Orbea. Both of these companies deserve serious kudos, not just for making great bikes, but for the huge help they were in raising money to fight cancer — and for reaching out to me during the worst week of my life.
Comments (116)
09.1.2009 | 10:17 am
A Note from Fatty: Today’s the last day of the 2010 Fat Cyclist Apparel Pre-Order. Yes, that’s right. I called it “Fat Cyclist Apparel.” And I’d like you to, as well.
For info on everything, including clever — but not necessarily informative or helpful — descriptions, click here. Or just go to my page on the Twin Six site if, for some reason, you don’t feel the need to read my finely-crafted text.
The pre-order ends today at 5:00pm CDT, at which point the Twin Six guys will collapse gratefully on a couch, and will probably add me to their Do Not Call list.
And remember, $25 from each Team Fatty (the white / black / pink ones) — both mens‘ and womens‘ versions — goes to the Lance Armstrong Foundation.
Preliminary Incontrovertible Truths
We are officially — because I hereby declare it, thus making it official — in the best part of the year for riding. It’s the best because we’re (yes, all of us) in the best shape we’re going to be for the year, but generally don’t have any more big races or events planned. So we get to use our fitness to actually go out and have some fun on our bikes.
Imagine that.
It’s the best part of the year for riding because the days are still warm, but the heat doesn’t feel quite so brutal. As if the heat is no longer a malevolent force, bent on crushing your body and sucking out your soul. Now it’s a friendly heat. Like a blanket, or a warm omelette. Or a Sunday afternoon in Paris.
It occurs to me that I may be overselling this “not as hot” thing. Let’s move on.
It’s the best part of the year for riding because the trees are just starting to change colors. On yesterday’s ride, I saw three trees that had gone red. Which means that in the next two weeks, the Alpine Loop is going to explode into crazy colors, so bright that they grab your attention, bright reds you see from the corners of your eyes.
And in short, it’s a not-half-bad time to get on your bike. And so yesterday, I did. I rode the Alpine Loop, tacking on the Cascade Springs spur for good measure. A nice four-hour ride, with maybe 5,000 feet of climbing.
Oh, by the way, I was doing the ride on this:
But how I came to be in possession of the twin of the Orbea Orca (I’ll take mine in Fat Cyclist Orange, thanks) I gave away a couple weeks ago is a story for another day. A good story, but not the one I want to tell right now. (I will confess, however, to often going into the garage and just looking at it.)
OK, back to truth-telling.
With all that climbing, there’s bound to be some serious descending. Which I love. In fact, I recently posited to Dug that a good road descent — and the Alpine Loop is a very good road descent — is just as exciting as any mountain bike descent.
To my surprise, Dug agreed with me. “It’s like when you dream about flying, except the dream part,” said Dug.
And in short, I wonder if there is any more pure sensation of speed than descending a mountain pass on good pavement on a really well-made road bike. I can’t think of one.
Of course — and alas — cyclists are not the only ones on the road.
Incontrovertible Truths About Automobile Drivers Who Do Not Yield On Paved Mountain Descents
If you’re even moderately aggressive in your descending, you’re going to be faster than at least some cars and trucks, and especially faster than trucks pulling trailers.
When this happens, the feeling of disappointment is nearly insurmountable. “All that work — that endless, painful climb — and now there’s going to be no payoff,” I think to myself, because I have conditioned myself to assume the worst: that the vehicle I am trailing at approximately one quarter the speed I’d like to be going will not take the minimal, simple, courteous, two-second effort of slowing and pulling over to the side of the road, so that I can blow by and resume my rapturous descent.
But as I’m riding my brakes for twenty minutes, I have time to think. And to analyze. And thus, yesterday, behind a horse trailer for approximately half my life, I came to the following epiphanies about the kind of people who do not let me by as I descend on my road bike:
- It never even occurs to non-yielders that you might want to get by them. They think you’re right there because you find them — and their vehicle — attractive.
- Non-yielders never look in their rear view mirrors, except to check to see if their chewing tobacco is stuck between their teeth.
- Non-yielders are confident that 5/8 of the road belongs to them, and that oncoming traffic can make do with the other 3/8.
- Non-yielders were not breast-fed as children. They still harbor resentment of this fact and express it whenever they can.
- Non-yielders are full of malice and bile.
- Non-yielders are the same people who, when you were climbing, honked and yelled at you for making them veer two feet out of their way, potentially delaying them by up to three seconds.
- Non-yielders hate children and puppies.
- Non-yielders invented lint. And they wrote the screenplay for Tranformers: Revenge of the Fallen. And those are the only two things non-yielders have ever produced.
- Non-yielders cut in line at the Chuck-O-Rama buffet, shouldering aside grandmas and grandpas to get to the baked potato bar before all the Bac-O-Bits are gone.
- Non-yielders feel thwarted somehow if I do manage to squeak around them.
Incontrovertible Truths About Automobile Drivers Who DO Yield On Paved Mountain Descents
Occasionally — and this did in fact happen to me yesterday — I’ll close in on a car. The familiar despondence will set in and I’ll begin to dream about the descent that might have been.
And then the car will slow down a little and pull over — not coming to a full stop, not pulling off the road, just pulling over enough to give me some room.
And then my heart will soar.
I have the following to say about people who yield to me in this manner:
- Yielders almost certainly have bikes of their own.
- Yielders are wise and kind. And very attractive physically, too.
- Yielders apply the Golden Rule as it was actually intended
- Yielders invented penicillin. And chocolate. And cheese.
- Yielders realize that it doesn’t actually cost them much in the way of time, effort, or dignity to let me by.
- Yielders not only have their rear-view mirrors aimed correctly, but are actually quite likely to use them from time to time.
- Yielders are 80% likely to remember to get mom something on Mother’s Day than non-yielders.
- In some cultures, Yielders are regarded as sacred, and there word is regarded as prophecy.
- Yielders earn, on average, 42% higher wages than non-yielders.
True facts, all of them. They must be, because you are reading them right now on a popular internet site, written by a beloved and award-winning cycling celebrity.
So feel free to share this information with your friends. Especially the ones who tend to drive trucks with horse trailers down mountain passes.
Comments (81)
08.30.2009 | 11:28 pm
A Note from Fatty: I have many small items of interest before I get to the meat of today’s (guest) post.
About the Fat Cyclist 2010 Clothing Pre-Orderama: Tomorrow’s the last day you can pre-order jerseys, shorts, vests, socks, armwarmers, hats, bottles, and t-shirts. We’re not going to order big quantities of anything above the pre-order amount: just enough to make sure that we’re cool for size exchanges, defects, lost shipments, and so forth. So if you want to fly the Fatty Flag (so to speak, since there isn’t actually a Fatty Flag…yet), you should probably order now.
I Wish I Were Doing this Race: Today (Monday) is the last day you can register for the Park City Point 2 Point mountain bike race. This is going to be an incredibly epic race, and I’d be doing it if I weren’t afraid.
If you’re local, you’re hardcore, and you’re not chicken, you should go sign up. Kenny and Brad have, and I’m looking forward to their writeups. And I’m looking forward to doing this race next year, when I will presumably be less chicken.
I Am Newsworthy: The Deseret News, a Salt Lake City, Utah-based newspaper, ran a really kind article about me yesterday. Many thanks to journalist (and obsessive twitterer) Jared Eborn for not mentioning my horrible body odor in the piece. Read the article here.
And Finally, A Note About Today’s Post: One of the frequent commenters on this site is someone who goes by the handle “BikeCopVT.” Like — I expect — many of you, I’ve often wondered if this guy is really a cop, on a bike, in Vermont. And I’ve wondered what such a job would be like. Dream job? Or nightmare?
Well, I met BikeCopVT in Philadelphia last weekend, and he is in fact a cop. On a bike. In Vermont. So I asked him to write up a guest post describing what his job is like. Upon reading it, I find that I like bikes more, I like cops more, and I like humanity more. BikeCopVT is definitely one of the good guys.
Enjoy!
A Day In the Life of a Bike Cop
I recently rode in the Philadelphia LIVESTRONG Challenge. If you were there you might remember me as this guy.
You know the one with the crazy mustache, “BikeCopVT.”
One of the highlights of my trip was having the opportunity to meet someone I would consider a friend. A friend, that until this trip I had yet to meet. After talking to Elden for a minute or two I got the question I often get from people I meet. “Are you really a bike cop?” The answer is, “yes I am.” I have been a bike cop for the last nine years.
After riding the Challenge, Elden asked if I would write about what it’s like to be a Bike Cop. He wanted to know, and thought other people might be interested as well. I figured the best way to give everyone a realistic view of what it’s like to be a bike cop is to write about one 8 hour shift.
I started my shift at 3:00pm in Patrol Uniform. You see, not everybody is a fan of cops on bikes (even other police officers). So for the first two hours of my shift I was this guy:
I answered a few calls for service including going to look for a male suspect a neighboring town wanted arrested. No luck.
At 5:00pm I was able to change into my Bike Patrol Uniform:
Given the choice — be honest — which would you prefer? I pick the bike every time.
Just a few things I’ll point out:
- Yes, I am wearing a bullet resistant vest.
- Yes, it gets very hot under said vest. Thankfully during this shift it was nice and cool outside. I have an external carrier for the vest I can use when it is really hot which allows me to take it off when I’m in the office.
- Take a look at my duty belt. I weighed it once: 28 pounds.
Yep, before you think about the weight of the bike and everything in the pannier, I have already added nearly 30 pounds to what I have to pedal around. The bike is essentially an off the rack bike with Police stickers. One big difference though is the wheels. They are a bit more beefy than the average so I can do the following, without breaking anything:
After going out and taking all these pictures it was time to work. When I am on the bike I am treated like any other patrol unit. I just have a harder time transporting prisoners.
One thing the cars can’t do, though, is go here:
On the bike, though, I can. And believe me, I do — with pleasure. Hey, somebody has to check the trails!
So, from 5:30 to about 6:15 I was out on the trails. But, it’s not all trails. A lot of it is more like this:
By the way, note the socks. Yep, even on patrol, I’m a “Fat Cyclist.”
While we were taking these pictures, a mom and her two year old daughter asked if they could talk to me for a minute. The little girl wanted to let me know she was happy I was being safe and wearing my helmet.
6:30pm and I am checking one of the City’s many parks. As I ride by, a man walking with his daughter asks me to stop for a minute. Do you think a cop in a cruiser with the radio blaring, windows up and A/C on would have heard him? You see a big part of bicycle patrol is (I’m going to use a catch phrase here) Community Policing. I spent the next ten minutes talking with Annika and her dad. Annika is 3 years old. She was on her way to get ice cream. She didn’t like my sunglasses, but was happy I was being safe and wearing my helmet. (It is good to see that children are getting the message that wearing a helmet is important) She told me what every letter was on my bike and recited her ABC’s. As I rode away she said bye at least five times. I think it was only to see if I would keep looking back and waving every time she said it (I did).
6:45pm and I am on another street riding right behind a woman on a commuter bike wearing no helmet. She rode right through a stop sign, never looked, and just kept on going. I caught up to her and, as politely as I could, I reminded her that bicycles are treated the same as cars in Vermont. She is required to stop at the stop signs or risk a $209 ticket and 2 points on her driver’s license. She said thanks and well…we’ll see if she stops next time.
7:00pm, remember that guy I went looking for earlier in the day while in the patrol car? Well, we got another tip about him walking in the area. This time I’m on my bike. I beat the patrol cars to the area and rode right up to him before he ever noticed I was a police officer. He just turned around put his head down and put his hands behind his back. What is the point in running from a guy on a bike, really?
7:30pm and we get a report of possible domestic violence involving a couple on foot. Once again, due to the heavy traffic, I beat the patrol cars and locate the couple on a side street.
8:00pm dinner, hey everybody has to eat sometimes. On bike patrol you have to be a lot more aware of needing that energy and water. I always carry some food and lots of water, because in my job you just never know if you’ll get to sit down and eat.
8:30pm time for some more Community Policing. The downtown district in my city has 6 bars so I always make an effort to stop by a few. People love to (especially when drunk) talk to the bike cop and try and get their friends arrested.
9:31pm one of the Patrol Units asks me to assist him in locating a wanted person. The plan is for me to arrive first and cover the back of the building. The car arrives after me to see if the wanted person runs. No running tonight. As we walked the wanted person to the patrol car he makes note of the bike. “You guys have bikes now?” He also commented about going out a window and running, but what is the point? Here is one of my favorite police one liners: “He’ll just go to jail tired.”
10:33pm neighbor dispute. Talked to one half, he lost his cat. The other half was having great fun meowing, just to get the first guy going.
10:45pm in to the office. You see, everything I have done tonight requires documentation. I will now spend a good deal of time writing reports about all of it. My shift was supposed to end at 11:00pm, but my relief is 30 minutes late and I can’t leave until he gets here. Oh well, more time to get paperwork done I guess.
My total mileage for the night was 16.63. Not bad for a city that is just over one square mile.
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