(100 feet of 1.25" PVC pipe and 50 T-connectors)

 

 

 

(Ryobi Table Saw)

 

 

 

 

 

 

(PVC Bike Rack: Roomy Parking for Eight Bikes!)

 

 

PS: Yes, I read about Floyd’s A-sample testing positive. But I’d rather talk about my cool new bike rack, pictured here in a blurry photo actually holding bikes:

 

 

A Very Special Note From Fatty to Readers Who Are Kinda New to this Whole Fat Cyclist Thing and Maybe Didn’t Follow the Tour de France: Sometimes I write fake news. In this case, I’m writing a fake news story about Floyd Landis’ heroic Stage 17 ride in the Tour de France, which pretty much everyone agrees was the most dramatic and exciting stage in several years (some say ever). Basically, after a humiliating defeat the previous day, Landis shot off the front at the beginning of this very difficult day in the mountains and reclaimed almost all of his lost time, an unheard-of accomplishment. And now everyone in the world who loves cycling dreams of having a Floyd Landis moment.

 

Seattle, July 26 (Fat Cyclist Fake News Service) – Representing more than 2500 enthusiast cyclists, attorney Al Maviva, Esq., today announced that he would be suing Floyd Landis for irresponsible behavior that enticed his clients to imitate his “miracle stage” in the 2006 Tour de France.

“On Thursday, July 20, 2006, Mr. Landis, fully aware that cameras were trained on him, engaged in any number of dangerous, ill-considered activities that can be categorically called “attractive nuisances,” said Maviva.

“As a causal result of imitating Landis during the week following his so-called ‘miracle stage,’” continued Maviva, “My clients have suffered physical and emotional trauma, and in one case: death.  Landis must pay for the harm he has done.”

 

Grievances Enumerated

According to the suit filed by Maviva, the following damages have been (allegedly) caused by Landis’ (allegedly) heroic ride:

• Strategic Blunders: Since Landis’ audacious Stage 17 attack, early, ill-considered attacks have reached epidemic proportions, appearing in nearly every race and usually by multiple people. The suit mentions one race in particular where at the beginning of the 200 mile race all 450 entrants left the start line at a sprint, all believing—apparently—that they were Floyd Landis. Maviva notes that 448 of the race participants had collapsed within two miles, and that the remaining two racers coasted to a stop during the next mile. “Clearly, these people suffered physical, emotional, and financial harm,” notes Maviva. “If Landis had shown the courtesy to at least put a disclaimer on the screen that he was doing something that nobody else in the world could do, perhaps we wouldn’t be seeing this rash of crazy attacks in club races.”
• Crashes: Hospitals across Europe, Australia, and America have shown a steep rise in cycling-related accidents since Landis’s dramatic Stage 17 ride. “Evidently, riders are trying to emulate Landis’s time-trial-on-a-road-bike pose,” notes Dr. Mike Young. “They rest their elbows on their handlebars and clasp their hands together, laying their backs as low to the ground as possible.” Dr. Young then concluded, “And then of course, they inevitably fall off their bikes, usually landing on their chins because their still-clasped hands are trapped in their brake cables.”
• Death: Noting that Floyd Landis was almost constantly dousing himself with water during his massive solo attack, racers across America have taken to doing the same. Unfortunately, taking the American “more is better” philosophy a little too far, one enterprising Cat 5 racer got his wife to drive a pace car he had specially equipped with a compressor, a complex network of hoses and nozzles and 250 gallons of water. His plan to be constantly misted as he biked went horribly wrong as the compressor ran amok, giving the rider the dubious distinction of being the first person to ever drown while riding on a bike on dry pavement.
• Lots and Lots of Embarrassment: “The most prevalent and common harm caused by Mr. Landis,” notes Mr. Maviva in the suit, “is that everyone now both wants to be Landis, and recognizes the folly in others as they try to emulate him. Upon seeing a friend crack, it is almost universal to hear another rider say, ‘Yeah, you’re Floyd Landis all right. Too bad you’re the Stage 16 version.”

Expert Analysis

Dr. Dan Richardson notes that there is precedent for this virus-like mass mimicry among cyclists. “For years,” says Richardson, “Cyclists have been suffering from Lance Armstrong Syndrome.” Dr. Richardson continues: “However, the symptoms of Lance Armstrong were much more benign—a tendency to try to hold a fast cadence, a propensity to give rivals the stink-eye as you attack, that kind of thing.”

“The Landis version of this disease,” concludes Richardson, “is a little bit terrifying.”

 

Landis Contrite, Expresses Concerns for Future Mimics

For his part, Floyd Landis has expressed regret that he has not to this point adequately explained that he is superhuman, and did not give a “Don’t Try This At Home” warning. “I’ll try to be a little more clear about that in the future,” said the Tour de France champion. “I’ve already lost some sleep worrying about what other hip replacement patients are going to go try to do when they see me destroy the field again next year.”

 

PS: Don’t forget to enter the drawing for a free Cervelo Soloist Team road bike ($2200 value), courtesy of the Larry H. Miller Tour of Utah.

 

PPS: Today, in Random Reviewer, Dug reviews Lance Armstrong’s opening monologue at the ESPYs. Dug’s review is worth a read, and Lance’s monologue is worth a watch.

First off, welcome to those of you who found me via MSN’s “What’s Your Story?” page. It’s nice to have you here.

Now, whether you’re here for the first time or are one of the people who regularly contribute to what everyone knows is the best part my blog—the comments—you’ve picked a good day to come to this site. Because today I’m announcing the Larry H. Miller Tour of Utah / Fat Cyclist Cervélo Soloist Giveaway.

Yes, that’s right. The Larry H. Miller Tour of Utah has given me a dream bike (pictured below) to give away on my blog.

Excuse me while I hyperventilate into a bag for a few minutes.

OK, I’m better now.

 

Why Am I So Excited About Giving Away This Bike?

Those of you who are bike geeks already know what a big deal it is for me to be giving away a Soloist. It’s a dream bike. For the rest of you, let me do my best to explain, while hopefully not sounding like some hoity-toity elitist bike snob.

It all comes down to this: most people in the world never find out how great riding a bike can be. That’s because most bikes in the world are heavy, steer poorly, shift erratically, and brake unconvincingly.

It’s like everyone’s basing their impression of what driving a car is like based on having ridden in a Yugo, even though if they stretched just a little, they could be driving a brand new Lexus.

What I’m getting at is this: If you’ve never had a great road ride, the bike I’m giving away will change the way you see bicycles. It is light, fast, and sexy as all get-out.

Check me out: I’m Mr. Hyperbole today.

 

So How Do You Win The Bike?

Just click here and fill out the form. At the end of the Larry H. Miller Tour of Utah (August 12), we’ll pick an entry at random. That’s all there is to it. Specifically:

• You don’t have to give up the names and addresses of your friends for us to spam.
• You don’t have to embark on a pyramid scheme where you must get your friends to buy bushel after bushel of concentrated detergent, and you must also buy lots of that same detergent, and I get very rich from everyone having more soap than they can use in three lifetimes.
• You don’t have to buy anything. In fact, there’s nothing to buy even if you want. Although if you really want to buy something, let me know and I’ll sell you an open container of Apple-Flavored Cytomax I don’t think I’ll ever make my way through. That stuff’s gross.

And What Will the Tour of Utah Guys Do With Your Name and Contact Info?

They’ll probably email you next year about the Tour of Utah. Pretty nefarious, eh? Go enter, already.

Sheesh.

 

PS: I’m just kidding about selling the Cytomax. I don’t have any to sell. I wasn’t kidding about it being gross, though.

When the Tour of Utah folks asked me if I’d like to give away a trip to see this mind-bendingly difficult stage race, of course I wanted to. And in true bone-headed fashion, I made it an essay contest. Which means I had to had the distinct pleasure of reading ten gazillion essays on how much it was going to hurt to do that brutal sixth stage.

Several essays stuck out as great, but here’s my favorite:

One. More. Rotation.

One. More. Rotation.

Water.

One. More. Rotation.

Almost at the top. I can rest a bit on the downhill.

One. More. Rotation.

Food.

Water.

I hope the next climb isn’t as bad.

One. More. Rotation…. 

Massive congratulations go out to Mark Colburn, the winner of the “Win a Trip to the Tour of Utah” (hey, what a catchy name!) contest. You’re going to dig this race, Mark. I know I’m sure looking forward to it. (Ooooh, it’s so exciting to give away a major award!)

 

Didn’t Win? Stick Around For Something You Will Not Believe

As if giving away a trip to come see a top-notch stage race weren’t enough, the Tour of Utah folks have another giveaway they’re working on for Fat Cyclist readers.

Something awesome.

Something I would really like to keep myself, if I could figure out how to game the system.

And you won’t have to write an essay (I’ve read enough of those for one lifetime, thanks) to win, either.

I’ll announce the giveaway tomorrow. If you love cycling—or even if you think you might like cycling—you will not want to miss this.

 

Now for the Part Wherein I Present Thoughts that Occurred to Me During the 50-Mile Mountain Bike Race I Did Last Saturday, In Roughly the Order they Occurred to Me

Have you ever committed to doing something without really thinking it through? Something big? Something that you will soon realize will require a lot of you—quite likely more than you’d really like to give? Something that, once you get right down to it, you realize is going to hurt a lot and you probably shouldn’t have agreed to do, but you did, and now you’re stuck?

Yeah. Doing a 50-Mile mountain bike race in Park City, UT last Saturday was kinda like that for me.

Early last week, Kenny emailed me, saying something as simple as “Hey, I’m doing this race Saturday. So is Brad. You should come, too.” I am now convinced Kenny embedded an email-based hypnosis virus in that message, because without considering the consequences, I signed up.

And that’s how, Saturday morning at around 6:00, I found myself on a 50-mile mountain bike race course I knew next to nothing about. Just that it was really, really hard.

Here are some of my recollections from that day.

 

A Sense of Urgency

I’m sorry to start off with a kind of tacky thought, but I’m trying to be real here, and reality is not pretty. Anyway. Up until three minutes before the race started, I felt fine. Calm. Composed. And then when the race organizer got on the bullhorn and said, “Three minutes to start” I suddenly needed to use the bathroom. And not just to pee. I wasted ten precious seconds considering what I ought to do, then dropped my bike and bolted for the bathroom Some things cannot be put off. I was tearing off my Camelback, helmet and jersey (I was wearing bib shorts, alas) as I ran to the bathroom, took care of my business in record time (I didn’t take the time to read anything), and threw it all back on  as I made it back to the starting line. The result? I was back in place and throwing a leg over the bike with a whopping five seconds to spare.

 

Riding with Darth Vader

The first mile or two of the race are all climbing on graded dirt road, which is a good place to pass a few people. Then you’re on tight singletrack for miles and miles and you pretty much can count on being with the group you’re with for a while.

I, as near as I could tell, was riding directly in front of Darth Vader.

I didn’t dare look back to tell if he was wearing the mask and black cape, because I figured he’d stick a light saber in my spokes or something, but I knew it was Darth Vader from the loud breathing. Kkkkrrreeehhhh….kkkkrrooohhh. Kkkkrrreeehhhh….kkkkrrooohhh. Regular as clockwork.

“Good day for a bike ride this is,” I said, in my best Yoda voice.

Darth Vader didn’t get it.

 

Why is it easier to go up a hairpin?

At the beginning of the race, I asked a few people what it was like. Everyone who had done it had essentially the same point of view: it’s a brutal, endless day of climbing. Estimates ranged from 9000 feet of climbing to 12,000. Either way, that’s a lot. And it’s almost all singletrack climbing. Lots of it is technical.

They were right.

The whole day seemed like climb after climb, punctuated with short stretches of technical, no-rest-for-the-weary downhill.

I had lots of time to ponder something: Whether you’re on a mountain bike riding singletrack or on a roadbike doing a hard climb, switchbacks tend to give you a little bit of a climbing boost—you swing around and gain eight feet in altitude without spending a ton more effort. Why is that?

I asked a few people that question while I was riding. Nobody had a good answer, though some agreed that it did seem like switchbacks give you a magical boost.

Anyone else notice that? Anyone got an (interesting) answer for why?

 

Shot Bloks

As a blogging shill, I have my rules: I do not endorse a product unless I’m being given that product for free.

I shall now break that rule.

I ate Clif Shot Bloks a lot during this ride, and I really like them. A package gives you 200 calories, they taste better than energy gels, don’t have the gross texture, and didn’t upset my stomach at all.

I need a better way to eat Shot Bloks on the fly, though. It’s easy enough to open the package while riding, but getting them out of the package into my mouth while pedaling and steering the bike wasn’t easy; I had to look for spots where there was going to be either a flat or a sustained non-technical climb before I could eat.

Here’s what I’m thinking I might try: I’ll get a little sandwich bag, spray some Pam (Butter Flavor, perhaps?) into it, and then put the Shot Bloks in there. They should just slide right out.

Yes, I’m really considering doing that. I’ll let you know how it goes.

 

How Far Have I Gone?

One of the games I always play when doing an endurance ride is calculating the math of the ride. How far have I ridden? How far do I have left to go? What percentage of the ride have I ridden in terms of effort, not distance?

But Saturday, I didn’t have an odometer on my bike. I hadn’t really studied at a topo map or elevation profile of the course (and those never help me anyway). I was just riding, staying at my all-day pace, figuring I’d stop when I hit the finish line.

It was kind of a nice change.

 

My Right Arm is Lousy

My right arm is getting worse. Any time I ride for more than just a few minutes, my right hand goes numb, and then the numbness spreads upward. I’m pretty sure this has something to do with the umpteen times I’ve dislocated it.

Still, it’s a weird sensation to discover—as you turn downhill—that you cannot operate the rear brake because you have no sensation whatsoever in your index and middle finger.

 

My Teeth Are Gross

You know what happens when you eat sticky, sweet food for a couple hours, while doing most of your breathing through your mouth, all while riding your mountain bike on a dusty course behind a lot of people kicking up dust?

Your teeth stay perfectly clean and white, without getting caked by a layer of grit that can only be removed with battery acid.

 

Why Do Slow People Race?

Saturday, I was one of the slow people. Which means I had time to think long and hard about why people who have no chance of winning or even finishing in the top half, race at all. Are we trying to build character? Are we amassing stories to tell our grandchildren? Is it because we feel the need to be punished?

All of those are partially correct, but the main answer is: slow people race hoping that this day we will magically turn into fast people.

But we don’t.

 

I Wish I Had My iPod With Me

About 45 minutes into the race, I had settled into my race equilibrium: I had passed most of the people I would pass during the day, and most of the people who would pass me had done so.

Which meant I could look forward to riding alone for the next six hours or so.

And that’s when I started fantasizing about my iPod, which was sitting safely in my car. During the entire day, I would think things like, “If I had brought my iPod, right now I’d put on Social Distortion, and have it play their entire catalog.

Other playlists that occurred to me during the day include:

• Johnny Cash, American Recordings selections (I have all the American Recordings albums, but have made a playlist of my favorites from each).
• Rush, Moving Pictures. I don’t know why this occurred to me. It’s been years since I’ve listened to this album.
• Devo, Greatest Hits. It’s now generally acknowledged that these guys are geniuses, right?
• Oingo Boingo, Complete catalog. No better mountain biking music in the world, as far as I’m concerned.
• Duran Duran, Greatest Hits. So sue me.

My Hairy Legs Really Collect Dirt

As I rode, I noticed: those of us with shaved legs had cleaner legs than those of us with unshaved legs. Really hairy dudes like myself looked downright nasty.

 

A Meditation on Oxygen At High Altitude

Most of this race is at above 8000 feet, but there are trees and undergrowth everywhere. I started thinking, “You know, I’ll bet that with all these trees and plants I’m riding around, there’s actually more oxygen here than at sea level!”

Which, ironically, goes to show how oxygen-deprived I was.

 

Post-Race Nausea

You know what’s the worst thing about an endurance race? What happens to your stomach about twenty minutes after the race. You’ve been beating yourself up the whole day, suffering in the legs but otherwise feeling fine.

Then you stop riding, and twenty minutes later you’re curled up in a ball, wishing you were dead. It is during this period that I vow, after each and every race, to never race again.

Eventually, the post-race nausea subsides, supplanted by an all-consuming hunger. Even as you eat everything that might possibly be edible, you forget the nausea, figuring out how you’ll do better next time.

 

My Time

I finished the race in 6:32. Does that mean anything to anyone?