My Assessment After 3 Days of the Tour: AWESOME!

07.7.2008 | 10:32 am

I admit, I was skeptical at first. Now, however, I have seen the light. This is awesome. I just can’t get enough of it, and I can’t wait to see how it ends!

In fact, I’m going back to the computer for more, right now. It’s just that good.

I am, of course, not talking about the Tour de France, which has provided just under four minutes of excitement in three days of racing. Seriously, after two stages, exactly no time at all separated the top 20 racers?

They’re going to need a bigger podium.

What has got me so enthusiastic, then? The new game my 14-year-old son has created has got me enthusiastic, that’s what.

It’s so good, in fact, it may well keep your mind off the mindless tedium of this year’s Tour. I think it’s going to suck you in. I know it’s got me hooked.

Here it is: “The Fat Cyclist Rolling Adventure.” Try it out:

Finish The Game First, Win a Fat Cyclist T-Shirt
Here’s the thing: there are 11 objects you have to collect to finish the game. So far, I have not been able to collect them all. If you’re able to collect them all, you’ll get a secret message. Send me an email with the text of that message, and if you’re you’re one of the first three people to do so, you win a Fat Cyclist T-Shirt.

How’s that for awesome?

Pay Per View
My son made this game because he wants to be a game programmer when he grows up and needed a project. I think he’s well on his way toward success and think he deserves to get paid for his work.

So we came to an agreement: He gets a dollar for each non-trivial comment about his game.

Enjoy the game. I’m sure my son will be watching the comments like a hawk.

PS: Does anyone else find Thomas Voeckler incredibly irritating? I’ve never seen anyone make such a production of earning and holding the King of the Mountain (polka-dot jersey) position…before there were any mountains. That dude’s getting on my nerves.

PPS: New Jersey Design Unveiled Tomorrow! Twin Six and I have been batting around designs for the 2009 Fat Cyclist Jersey. As of today, we have locked down an incredibly cool design. How cool is it? I’d put it two notches above Fonzie and maybe half a notch below Johnny Cash.

Yeah, it’s that cool. It’s my favorite one yet. I’m looking forward to showing it off.

I’ll be posting pictures tomorrow, and we’ll be making it available for pre-order next week. This means the jerseys will get here in time for Cross season and Christmas.

Oh, and I think you’ll agree that this design would go nicely with matching shorts, arm warmers, and possibly a cycling cap. I’m not sure which of these things will actually happen, but I think you’ll agree it would go nicely with all of them.

 

An Open Letter to CyclingNews.com

07.2.2008 | 4:07 pm

Dear CyclingNews.com,

First of all I just want to say: I’m a big fan. Especially around Tour de France time each year, when I follow your Live Race Coverage almost religiously. Your coverage is accurate, clear, and up-to-the minute.

But it’s also kind of dry.

What you need, CyclingNews, is some "color commentary." You know, a couple of guys who can add some personality to the play-by-play. A couple of guys who aren’t afraid to say what they’re thinking. A couple of guys who can type really fast, nonstop, for four hours straight.

I’m talking about, of course, my friend Dug and me.

You see, CyclingNews, I recently went back and watched an incredibly dramatic moment from the 2003 Tour de France: Stage 9, Bourg d’Oisans to Gap. Here it is on YouTube:

Pretty wild, isn’t it? But your stage reporting is…um…terse. So, Dug and I took the liberty of adding our own commentary. Kind of like we were Bob Roll, but there are two of us, and we work for a lot less money.

Below, we’ve taken your reporting, and added our own comments, exactly as we would have five years ago when this actually happened.

CN: 16:39 CEST, 175.5 km/9 km to go – Vinokourov’s attack is good, catching and dropping Casero and closing in on Parra and Jaksche, who are now together.

Vinokourov powers up to Parra and Jaksche and attacks immediately. Jaksche tries to hold him, and does.

Fatty: Well, what do you know. Vino’s attacking. How unusual.

Dug: I’m pretty sure he just gave Armstrong “The Look.”

Fatty: I guarantee you that Armstrong is going to sue Vino for trademark infringement. Nobody gets to give people "The Look" but him.

Fatty: I’ll bet you anything that Vinokourov’s a doper.

Dug: Why are Armstrong and company chasing so hard? I mean, who is this Vino guy? Isn’t he from Kazakhstan?

Hey. I just had a great idea for a movie about a guy from there. It’ll be a big comedy hit..

CN: 16:42 CEST    176.5 km/8 km to go - Armstrong and Heras are leading the peloton in pursuit of Vinokourov and Jaksche, who can’t hold the charging Kazakh any more. Vino has 20" with 1 km to go until the summit.

Vino crosses the top of the Côte de La Rochette, as Armstrong steps up the pace behind. Beloki, Ullrich, Basso, Mayo, Zubeldia all go with him. Armstrong’s pace making is good, but he’s still got 10 riders with him.

Dug: Really? Only twenty inches? That’s not much of an attack, if you ask me.

Fatty: You know what? I think Beloki ought to check his tire. It looks a little soft to me. And I think the pavement looks kind of oily.

Dug: No, I’m telling you, Beloki is a master descender.

Fatty: Hey, Basso just chucked out a banana peel. That doesn’t seem right.

Dug: No, I guarantee you: Armstrong couldn’t pick a better wheel to follow.

Fatty: How about that Basso? Betcha he’s a doper.

Dug: I’m pretty sure Ullrich just emptied a bottle full of cooking oil onto the road. Is that legal?

Fatty: Betcha Ullrich’s a doper, too.

Dug: Oh, this is terrific stuff. It’s like the old days, when riders would do anything to win. I once saw Merckx put a live scorpion down a competitor’s jersey.

CN: 16:45 CEST,  177.5 km/7 km to go -  Vino hits the descent with a 16" gap to Armstrong’s group, as the yellow jersey himself leads the chase. Beloki is also helping, as he is in second on GC. Bettini is on the back of the group, that contains all the top riders. Even Jaksche is hanging on.

Vinokourov took the points on the climb ahead of Armstrong, Beloki, Zubeldia and Mayo.

Fatty: If Beloki really wants to win, he ought to take the corners really fast. I understand hot pavement is awesome for improving traction.

Dug: Mayo seems a bit, well, temperamental doesn’t he?

Fatty: Totally. I bet you anything he’s a doper.

Dug: I expect great things from Mayo. You wait and see. He’ll be a great TdF GC contender for years to come.

Fatty: Did you notice that Armstrong is riding with tires that have surprisingly robust tread today?

Dug: Like cross tires.

Fatty: Yeah. Weird.

Dug: Seems like a bad move. What could possibly be the advantage?

Fatty: It makes no sense at all.

CN: 16:47 CEST    178.5 km/6 km to go - Beloki and Armstrong are leading the chase behind Vinokourov, who is flying with 6 km to go. This will be a close finish, but there is a 20" time bonus on the line… Look out for Bettini.

Dug: What kind of name is “Beloki” anyway?

Fatty: Yeah, it sounds like a sound effect. Like the sound a body makes when it hits the pavement at high speed, breaking bones and tangling with metal in the process. I’d rather have a last name like “Winsalot.”

Dug: Is Betinni officially a midget? he’s like 4 feet tall.

Fatty: I think they prefer to be referred to as “Adorable People.”

Dug: Is he riding on 20” wheels?

Fatty: Hey, you know how you can tell when Vinokourov is going to attack?

Dug: Tell me.

Fatty: If it’s been at least 3 minutes since his last attack.

Dug: I’m telling you, he should be checked for rabies. Seriously. I think he’s foaming at the mouth.

Fatty: Beloki’s looking good. That guy’s a solid rider.

Dug: Someone should tell those fans alongside the road that you’re not supposed to spray Pam all over it.

CN: 16:48 CEST, 180.5 km/4 km to go – This is a very technical descent, and Vino has lost a couple of seconds to Armstrong’s group on it. But he’s still clear. One mistake will cost him the stage.

Beloki loses it! Armstrong has to go down the grass embankment, taking a short cut. He amazingly gets back onto the group. Beloki is out though. He locked up his brakes just before a corner, and landed heavily on his hip.

Dug: Woah!

Dug: I mean: Woah!

Dug: Did you SEE that girl on the side of the road? She was HOT!

Fatty: Get up, Beloki. Shake it off. You’re fine. You think this race is going to win itself?

Dug: Merckx would be back up already. In fact, Merckx would have taken Armstrong down with him, bitten him, then taken his bike and ridden off.

Fatty: I’m just glad there’s a cyclist’s code, where everyone always stops to help an injured rider.

Dug: Yeah, look for Vino to slow up any second.

Fatty: I think Armstrong is just riding around in that field looking for first aid supplies.

Dug: How on earth did Armstrong manage that little cross country jaunt? No normal human being could possibly have ridden down that field, jumped off the bike, climbed over that embankment, and gotten back on the road. It’s like he’s had special forces training.

Fatty: I only hope they replay this moment on TV over and over for all eternity so that it gets burned into my psyche and I can never ever ever descend down a fast mountain road without having the image of Beloki go all ragdoll play through my brain.

Dug: What’s weird is that Tyler Hamilton pulled three muscles just witnessing the crash. And maybe broke a collarbone.

Fatty: Hamilton. Pfff. That guy’s totally a doper.

Dug: I’m pretty sure I heard Beloki’s femur crack from way up here in the booth.

Fatty: Merckx would have made a splint from one of his teammate’s top tubes and would be on the attack now.

CN: 16:50 CEST, 181.5 km/3 km to go - Beloki has two teammates with him, but is still lying there. That was a hard crash.

Vino has 3 km to go, and is certainly not going to wait for the rest.

Fatty: I don’t think the crash was that hard.

Dug: Yeah, Beloki is just milking it.

Fatty: If Armstrong had fallen, the entire peloton would have come to a complete stop out of respect, then withdrawn twenty paces to await instructions.

CN: 16:51 CEST - Ullrich, Hamilton , Armstrong, Zubeldia, Mayo are all working hard to try and catch Vinokourov. Behind them, Beloki still hasn’t got back up.

The gap to Vino is now 30."

Dug: Beloki STILL isn’t up?

Fatty: I think he may be napping.

Dug: What a baby.

Fatty: No doubt about it. He needs a good talking to.

CN: 16:51 CEST, 183.5 km/1 km to go - Vinokourov has 1 km to go, and is on track for a great stage win in a dramatic finale.

Armstrong will thank his lucky stars that he avoided that crash somehow.

Dug: Armstrong has lucky stars?

Fatty: Oh, that Vinokourov is such a doper.

Dug: No yellow moons? No blue diamonds?

Fatty: I’m beginning to think that beloki’s podium finish is in danger for this tour.

Dug: Seems like he could have at least crossed the line.

Fatty: Oh well, I’m sure he’ll be back next year, stronger than ever. He’s going to be a force to be reckoned with.

CN: 16:53 CEST, 184.5 km/0 km to go - Vinokourov crosses the line, absolutely delighted with his win. Behind him, Bettini flies to take second place in front of Mayo and Armstrong.

Vino will move up to second on GC behind Armstrong, with Mayo in third now at 1′02.

Beloki has been taken away in an ambulance after locking it up on that last descent. A sad exit for him for this Tour, which held a lot of promise. But Vinokourov put them under a lot of pressure with his attack. Armstrong’s handling skills were pretty impressive to avoid that, and he was lucky there were no fences when he went cross country. Hamilton even patted him on the shoulder when they passed him after he’d got back in the pedals.

Dug: Hamilton TOUCHED Armstrong?

Fatty: I just saw the replay of where Hamilton touches Armstrong’s shoulder. HAMILTON’S ARM COMPLETELY FALLS OFF.

Dug: That’s going to adversely affect his sprint.

Fatty: Oh well. Anyway, that was a pretty good stage.

Dug: Yeah, I suppose.

As you can see, CyclingNews, we have a great deal of insight to add to your race coverage. We look forward to working with you as you cover the Tour de France this month.

Kind Regards,

 

The Fat Cyclist

Eight Hours Later

07.1.2008 | 7:32 am

Susan and I spent eight hours at the doctor yesterday. And to my amazement, I am not at all resentful. That’s probably because Susan only spent probably an hour or so in the waiting room (I spent considerably more time in the waiting room, but that’s fine — my job is to drive, listen, and ask questions).

The rest of the time, she was either being scanned, having scans read, or talking with the bone cancer surgeon. (Note to people who like details: Susan doesn’t have bone cancer, but since the cancer has metastasized to her bones and we’re looking at surgery, this surgeon was still a good person to talk with.)

Here’s how the day played out. I’m not going to go into details about how long each part took, because I don’t remember. All I can say is that this list covers what happened from 11am to 7pm.

  1. We drive to the Huntsman Cancer Institute. We talk about how all our “together time” is spent driving to and from doctors. We also stop at the new Barbacoa grill close to where we live. Now we have an alternative to Wendy’s and Subways, and it’s a place I really like. Yay! I’ll be fatter soon!
  2. We arrive at the Huntsman Cancer Institute 15 minutes early — traffic was light and finding a parking spot was easy — and sign in.
  3. They take Susan away to go do X-Rays.
  4. I watch an episode from Dexter: Season 2 on my iPhone.
  5. Susan comes back. She reads her Kindle, I watch my iPhone. We both put on signs that say “Geek.”
  6. They bring us into a room.
  7. I go back to watching, Susan goes back to reading. We both know that being in a room doesn’t mean the waiting’s over.
  8. The doctor comes in. We give him the discs for CT scan, the bone scan, and the MRI we got last week. He says he’ll be back in half an hour or so; it takes a while to download these.
  9. We go back to watching / reading. I’m very glad I have five episodes on my phone.
  10. We stop watching / reading and start talking about whether we can cope with another hip surgery.
  11. The doctor comes back in. He says we have three options: 1. We can just do radiation. 2. We can carve out some of the bad stuff in her hip and replace it with high-tech surgical bondo. 3. We can do a complete hip replacement. He says he leans toward option 1, because it doesn’t look like Susan’s hip is in immediate danger of breaking. We both suddenly feel much, much better about the day.
  12. The doctor sends us over to another building to get a CT scan of Susan’s hip. Then he wants us to come back so we can make a decision about what to do immediately. The same day. Is this some kind of crazy alternate universe where patients come first?
  13. We drive the mile over to where Susan’s getting her scan. It’s non-contrasted, because the doctor doesn’t want to see what the tumors look like this time; he wants to see what the bone structure that remains looks like.
  14. They take her back immediately. No wait. At all. Seriously, is this the Twilight Zone?
  15. Five minutes later, she’s out. I didn’t even have time to get my iPhone out and start watching a show.
  16. We go back to the doctor and wait while he reads the CT scan results. I am now on my third episode of Dexter for the day. They should give everyone who is going to spend a lot of their lives in doctors offices iPhones and a big ol’ credit on iTunes.
  17. The doctor shows us the CT scans on a big computer monitor. They mean nothing to me. Rorschach blots. But the doctor says they confirm what he thought: surgery isn’t necessary at this time. We should start Susan on radiation on the hip — breast cancer is generally very responsive to radiation — and come back in three months if things get worse, or in six months if things get better.
  18. We go home. Relieved. Big time.

So: radiation, not surgery. It’s funny how your metric for what constitutes good news changes: “Oh boy! You have to go get heavy doses of radiation every day for four or five weeks to shrink the cancerous tumor in your hip!”

But compared to another hip replacement: you bet it’s good news. Great news, in fact.

PS: Tomorrow, more pre-TdF shenanigans.

An Open Letter to ASO as They Make Final Preparations for the 2008 Tour de France

06.30.2008 | 12:38 am

Dear Christian Prudhomme and the rest of the Amaury Sport Organisation (ASO),

I know you must all be very busy as you make final preparations for the 2008 Tour de France (TdF), so I’ll try not to take much of your time.

I can see, Mr. Prudhomme, that you have been working overtime to bring us a Tour unlike anything we have ever seen before. A Tour that defines the premier road racing event on its own terms. A Tour that takes charge of the racers, rather than letting the racers take charge of the race. A Tour that clamps down on excess and eliminates rash behavior. A Tour with dignity above all.

A Tour, in short, that looks and feels as if it were produced by America’s Public Broadcasting System and moderated by Jim Lehrer.

I for one can hardly wait.

And I’m certain others are just as excited as I am. I haven’t actually met any of these excited people, but I remain hopeful.

Your zeal for reducing the unnecessary excitement that normally surrounds this race is admirable, Mr. Prudhomme, but I think there’s more that can be done to design a Tour de France that will — at long last — let the citizens of France (and other countries, though I do not necessarily approve of the TdF ever exiting France or even approaching its borders) be able to have some peace and quiet, even as the cyclists pedal by.

What You’ve Done Right
Before I get to my suggestions, Mr. Prudhomme, I want to make it perfectly clear that I recognize and applaud the efforts you have made thus far.

I shall enumerate.

  • No prologue. The prologue is a ridiculous spectacle that does nothing more than introduce us to racers we may not be familiar with, lets us see how our favorites are doing, and gives us a preview as to who brought their A-game and who has not. Why would anyone want any of those things? The prologue is a stupid tradition.
  • No time bonuses. In times past, I’ve seen racers duke it out at the top of a brutal climbing stage because finishing a quarter second ahead had a huge strategic benefit: a significant time bonus that could change race standings. Sure, it was exciting and a massive motivational tool to make contending racers really give it their all, but it sent the wrong message to the kids. You can’t give people time. Once a moment’s passed, it’s gone forever. Live with it.
  • Shorter stages. Your thinking on this is brilliant. As everyone knows, the reason pro cyclists have been doping is because the stages are so punishing. Now that the stages are shorter, there’s no reason to dope. No reason at all. In fact, I’ll bet that the people who have been doping have stopped doping, because now they know they can finish the race without that illegal boost. That’s awesome!
  • No team time trials. These stages showed the potential for elegance and beauty in cycling, rewarded teams that don’t have riders drop out, and emphasized the importance of a balanced team roster. What a stupid idea. I’m glad you got rid of those.
  • Fewer mountain stages. I’ve always thought that mountain stages are too dramatic and disorderly. Plus, they’re not fair to people who don’t climb well. I’m glad to see that you’ve cut these stages back. Let’s keep the riders together. Nice and orderly please. Single-file when possible.

What You Have Overlooked
In spite of your considerable accomplishments toward bringing a much-needed air of sobriety to the sport, Mr. Prudhomme, I feel there is more you could do.

And I am here to help. Please accept the following suggestions with my compliments.

  • No drafting. If taking drugs to go faster is wrong, how could leveraging somebody else’s effort be right? My question is rhetorical, so don’t feel obligated to write back explaining how much you agree with me. There should be a required gap of 20 feet between each rider. Finish the ride under your own steam, or don’t finish it at all.
  • No money. Why do dopers dope? Because they want to win (I realize this seemingly contradicts the “Shorter stages” point, above, but I’ll ask you to overlook that for the moment). And why do they want to win? Because they want money. Eliminate the cash prizes for the TdF, and you eliminate the doping problem. What you have left are people who are racing for pure love of the sport. I propose we give the winner of the Tour de France the following:
    tourtrophy
    That should be sufficient, don’t you think?
  • Announcers required to speak in hushed tones. Phil and Paul are quite simply too rambunctious for this, our most sacred of sports; there have been times when their enthusiasm has grabbed me and made me become excessively interested in what’s going on. Tell them they need to speak in hushed tones, as if narrating a golf game…in a library. 
  • No bright colors allowed. The racers in the TdF are adults, and it’s high time they act that way. The outfits they wear are outrageous and completely unbefitting the high seriousness our beloved sport requires.
  • Roller stages. By removing and reducing the most exciting types of stages — TTTs and mountain stages — I can see that your heart is in the right place. It’s time to go to the next level and introduce stages where there is no movement whatsoever. Give each rider a set of rollers and have the racers ride on those for 45 Km. This will further reduce the risk of crashes, breakaways, and other shenanigans that detract from the calm, orderly sport we both want to see.
  • Speed limits. Each year seems to produce a new “record-setting average pace.” Why do you think this is? Dope, that’s why. There can be no other reason. And I say, “Enough is enough.” Let’s cap the racing speed at 22mph on the flats, 35mph on the downhill, and 7mph on the climbs. These are all safe and sane rates, adding a new measure of safety to the race, as well as negating the advantage that those nasty dopers otherwise have.
  • Disqualify Team Garmin-Chipotle. Mr. Prudhomme, I recommend you immediately disqualify Team Garmin-Chipotle from the Tour. For one thing, changing their team name so late in the year can only mean they’re trying to hide something. For another, the Director, Jonathan Vaughters, once had to abandon the Tour under a cloud of suspicion. To others, that cloud of suspicion may have looked like a blinding bee sting that the Tour would not let him take medication for, but we know better. Doping is doping.
  • Disqualify Team Columbia (High Road). While we’re disqualifying suspicious-looking characters, let’s get rid of Team Columbia Sportswear (formerly High Road). Once again, here you have an Astana-esque situation: riders you know, but with a different team name. Ergo, they are evil. And to be honest, that “Columbia” name doesn’t sit right with me.

Mr. Prudhomme, I again want to thank you for all the work you have done and are doing. Together, we’ll make this year’s Tour a race to remember. At least, it will be for the five or six people left who care about it.

Kind Regards,

The Fat Cyclist

Metaphor

06.26.2008 | 11:48 am

No matter what kind of ride you’re on — road or mountain, a couple hours or an all-day epic — there comes a point where you start looking forward to the finish. If you’ve metered out your energy properly, it’s usually toward the end of the ride.

The end of a ride has its own attraction. You’re looking forward to a rest. Your legs ache. You’ve added another memory to the pile. If you were out riding with friends, you might be looking forward to recounting the ride’s important moments.

Sure, you know you’re going to go on another ride tomorrow. But for now, it’s good to be about done.

Occasionally, though, someone screws things up.

You’re 85% of the way through a ride when they broach their brainstorm. “Hey, there’s a new section of singletrack we ought to add to the ride; it’ll only add half an hour,” they’ll say.

Or, “Who’s up for another climb?”

And suddenly, out of nowhere, your end-of-ride anticipation has been yanked out from under you. Suddenly, you’re not five minutes away from the trailhead. You’re not about to give your legs a rest. You’re not anywhere close to being done for the day.

You feel like you’ve been tricked.

You don’t have the legs for this. You didn’t ration out your energy, your water or your time to include this next section of the ride.

But you’ve got to do it anyway.

You can’t bail out of the ride — well, technically you could, but that’s not your way — but you aren’t energized for the climb. It feels more like an unwelcome chore than a challenge.

The good news is, once you start the new leg of the ride, you tend to recalibrate a bit. You find energy you didn’t know you have, you recognize that the new section of singletrack is really worth riding, you take some pride in your ability to adapt.

But of course, that doesn’t change the fact that — at the moment it’s sprung on you — getting blindsided with another big chunk of ride, right when you’re expecting a rest, sucks.

Big time.

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