AUSTIN, TX (Fat Cyclist Fake News Service) —  Members of the Discovery Cycling Team claim to be saddened by the news released to People Magazine last Friday, that Lance Armstrong and Sheryl Crow have broken off their engagement.

Said a racer who wished to remain anonymous, “I am deeply sorry for Lance and Sheryl, and send them my best — albeit anonymous — wishes during this difficult time for them. I am also deeply sorry that this means OLN’s coverage — if it even covers the Tour de France, now that Lance is gone — will have to be about the race and riders, instead of hobnobbing on-camera with some pop star who has exactly two interesting songs in her entire catalog.”

Said Johan Bruyneel, Directeur Sportif for Team Discovery, “Lance and I are very close, and so it breaks my heart to know that he and Sheryl are no longer together. And while part of me is relieved that we won’t have the security nightmare that comes with having both a biking and a rock celebrity touring with us, not to mention the way they’re always demanding a better room, asking for organic vegetables, bringing their entourage and near-infinite quantities of luggage from city to city, and….”

Bruyneel paused to collect his thoughts, then continued. “Um, as I was saying, I’m very disappointed Sheryl won’t be along for the Tour this year.”

Armstrong’s Publicist Reacts

“Lance is very careful to separate his personal relationships from his professional life,” said Armstrong’s spokesperson. “Take, for example, his first book, It’s Not About the Bike. Why, he barely mentioned his (now former) wife in that book. And with Sheryl, he’s been very private about that relationship all along. You hardly even knew they were together. I mean, it’s not like he went on Oprah and proclaimed his love for Sheryl there or anything.”

“So,” continued the publicist, “when Lance and Sheryl ask we respect their privacy during this difficult time, it’s of course quite reasonable that you do so, since they have never, to this point, beaten you over the head relentlessly with the fact that they’re dating by appearing on TV constantly together and having photo op after photo op together and writing, producing and performing love songs about each other and doing these strange combo bike ride / soft-rock concert events that scream, ‘We’re one of the most public couples in the entire freaking universe!’”

“They have always been private people,” the publicist concluded. “Please let them continue to be private during this difficult hour.”

Ullrich’s Sympathies

Jan Ullrich, whom Armstrong has consistently identified as his greatest TdF rival, also conveyed his regrets. “As a racer who has also struggled with relationship difficulties, I can understand how difficult a time this must be for Lance,” said Ullrich. “What I cannot understand is how he always manages to have his breakups in the off-season, even after he’s retired from racing. Man, that guy is truly disciplined.”

“I must ask, however,” continued Ullrich, “Why couldn’t he have had that breakup late last June?”

Every Cyclist In The Universe Comments

Cyclists throughout the world did their level best to express something besides ambivalence about Armstrong’s breakup. According to every cyclist currently living, “Armstrong’s a great racer, but he’s no longer racing. I actually don’t care even a little bit about whether he marries or not. In fact, the only way this shocking revelation could be interesting to me would be if Armstrong decided to fill the hole in his life with another TdF. You think he might do that?”

“No, that’s just silly,” the collective cycling universe said to itself. “Armstrong would never tease us in that way. He’s not the kind of guy who would say, ‘Maybe I’ll race this year, maybe I won’t.’ Or, ‘I’m retired, but maybe I’ll come out of retirement. No, no I won’t.’”

Movie Implications

A spokesperson for Sony Pictures, which is producing the Lance Armstrong Movie, said that this turn of events does not impact the planned film at all.

“We’re going with the film just as we always have,” the studio representative said. “In fact, in some ways this event gives our next steps some clarity. We had planned to combine the Kristin years with the Sheryl years, kind of blurring the two people into one. This now makes better sense than ever.”

“The only way we’ll tweak the generic wife / girlfriend character is,” continued the spokesperson, “we no longer plan to give her a name, or any speaking lines. Considering that this film won’t be out for at least another eighteen months, I think that’s the prudent course.”

“We have yet to decide,” finished the spokesperson, “Whether to pixelate her face.”

# # #

Today’s weight: 171.6. Hmm. That’s not the right direction. I need to step things up.

Bob and I took off early from work to go complete the ride we had flatted out of last week. You see, Crop Circles is just part of an incredible little network of trails in Renton, WA. The other three, Tapeworm, Parasite, and Mr. DNA, follow the same trail philosophy: squeeze as much trail as possible into the smallest possible space.

The result? An incredibly twisty trail where you are almost always entering or exiting a hairpin turn, climbing or descending a short (but steep) hill, threading your handlebars between close trees, riding over roots and logs, or working on one of the constructed moves.

It was glorious.

See-Saw

Until yesterday, I was ambivalent about the idea of having human-constructed moves as part of a ride. I mean, aren’t the moves that occur naturally good enough? Do we really want to turn a beautiful trail into an eyesore?

Now, however, I am firmly in favor of building cool little moves into trails — owner permission permitting, of course.

This change of heart happened when I swallowed my fear and rode up and over a see-saw. The board is about nine inches wide and about eight feet long, with the fulcrum about eighteen inches high. As you ride up the first time, you naturally think that the board will tip as your body passes the fulcrum.

It doesn’t.

You keep riding up, wondering when it’s going to go. Then, just about as you stall out, the board tips suddenly. Wham! In an instant, you go from pointing straight up to rolling straight down.

It was a rush. Bob and I rode the see-saw at least a half-dozen times each. That slow…slow…slow…FAST feeling never got old.

A Clean, A Crash, And A New Term Defined

Next up, riding up and over a very narrow series (three inches or so) of slats, nailed together on a board and leaning on a log — like a very skinny ladder. Then you go down the other side on a similar series of slats.

I only tried this move once, because I cleaned it on the first try, much to Bob’s amazement.

Alas, the story does not end there.

I brought quite a bit of speed into this move, figuring it would be easy to keep the straight line necessary if I had momentum. This was correct, but it meant that I was going pretty fast as I came off the last slat. Unfortunately, I had not scouted out the rollout for this move, and it turned out to be a rooty ledge drop with a sharp right turn.

I endoed spectacularly.

I instinctively grabbed for a tree branch as I was in the air. This was a bad idea, since I grabbed with my bad shoulder — the one that dislocates just for the hell of it. I heard a “snap,” which, I thought as I flew, was a good thing, since a full-on dislocation sounds more like “SKRROPP.”

You know how there’s a spot on the inside of your knee that if you hit, hurts much worse than it ought? Sort of the knee-equivalent of your funny bone? Well, as I continued my brief flight, that’s the part of my knee I banged hard against my top tube.

I stayed on the ground for several minutes, rocking back and forth, willing myself not to scream and waiting for the pain-induced nausea to subside.

This gave Bob time to think.

“You have just experienced,” Bob said, “what I term a ‘Peak Confidence Event.’ (PCE)” Bob went on to explain that a PCE is what happens after you crash and suddenly find yourself very timid on all moves for the rest of the ride. It is mathematically impossible for your confidence to return to the level it was at just before you crashed.

Bob speaks the truth. It’s a good term for a mountain biking axiom. PCE: Make a note of it and integrate it into your lexicon.

Thank you.

More Moves

Eventually, I felt good enough to ride again, though gingerly. There were more fun constructed moves ahead of us, and I had to decide whether to try them. I figured that PCE or no, I would at least give them the three tries allotted me.

There were several bridges and curvy ladders made of slats, most of which were not difficult. There was a two-foot high stack of logs tied together that looked forbidding. Bob gave me an excellent tip: it’s easier than it looks. Bearing that in mind, I just rode over it.

There was a 10-foot-long log. I cleaned it on the first try. There was an uphill ledge followed by a pair of logs. I missed it on my first and second try, but then — hooray — cleaned it on my third. It was at this point that I coined an axiom of my own: When doing a three-try move, it is best to get it on the first. Failing that, it is better to get it on the third try than the second, because it’s more dramatic. If you get it on the second try, really you’re just demonstrating that it wasn’t that hard of a move to begin with and you should have gotten it on the first try.

Bob and I are not only extremely excellent riders, we’re very, very smart.

Thank You, Dahon

The Dahon Flo I’ve been riding was a dream this whole ride. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so confident on a bike (at least, until the PCE). It’s not just a good bike for travelling; it’s one of the best mountain bikes I have ever ridden. Who would have ever expected that from a break-apart bike?

Moment of Pride

There is one slat-type bridge that I would not have thought I’d clean. That’s because you have to wheelie up to it — about 20 inches, I think — using a single log as a ramp, then heave your rear wheel up onto it and continue riding a nice straight line, so you don’t fall off the side of the one-foot-wide bridge.

I got it on my third try.

One Last Epiphany

I could write tons more about yesterday’s ride, which reminds me of why I write this blog. I need to spend more time riding, or this blog is going to start getting very boring.

Banjo Brothers Bike Bag Contest

For today’s Banjo Brothers Bike Bag Contest, you must do two things:

1. Tell me of a bike-related epiphany you have had. Or failing that, describe a biking axiom.
2. Guess my weight.

There will be two prizes: One for the best epiphany / axiom, another for the person who comes closest to guessing my weight, which will — once again — become a daily feature starting tomorrow, along with the Fat Cyclist Weight Loss Sweepstakes.

Bonus Additional Reading About Yesterday’s Ride

Today, Bob wrote an excellent Top 5 about yesterday’s ride. Read it now.

The mountain bike is a rolling irony. It is built to be strong and durable, able to handle your weight, jumps, crashes, and tough obstacles like rocks, roots, and ledges. And yet, the part of the bike that actually touches the mountain — the business end of your bike — is invariably a thin, soft, and permeable slice of rubber.

At least, I think it’s ironic. Maybe it’s just unfortunate. That Alanis Morisette song screwed up my understanding of irony for pretty much ever, by going through a list of things that were clearly merely unfortunate and calling each of them ironic. Now I second-guess myself any time I call something ironic, for fear of pulling a “Morissette.”

No, I’m pretty sure I was right. A bike built to handle anything a mountain can dish out that ultimately relies on air and a flimsy patch of rubber is a reasonable example of irony.

OK, let’s move on.

Today, I have several random things to say about flat tires.

How to Make People Think You Are MacGyver’s Dumb Cousin

One of the first times I ever went mountain biking, Dug and I encountered a guy who was stuffing tall grass into one of his bike tires. “I read in a magazine that you can do this as a way to get your bike home,” the guy said. Dug and I agreed with him that this was a very clever way for him to repair his bike.

Then, as we rode away, leaving the young man to stuff his bike tire full of grass in peace, Dug looked me in the eye and said in a very serious voice: “Don’t ever do that.”

“Why, doesn’t it work?” I asked.

“I have no idea whether it works,” said Dug. “It doesn’t matter. It looks completely retarded.”

True enough.

I Take Steps Toward Avoiding Flats

For years, I used one particular technique to avoid flats: I ran my tires at high pressure. While this didn’t do much for avoiding punctures, it did reduce the number of pinch flats I got (a pinch flat is when you hit something hard enough that your tube is pinched between your tire and rim, puncturing the tube with what looks like a snakebite).

Then I discovered Stan’s Notubes. Basically, this setup lets you convert a traditional wheel and tire into a tubeless wheel. A special rimstrip seals to your tire, and a small amount of liquid latex seals off punctures before the tire even goes flat. In theory, you’re protected from both pinch and puncture flats.

I remember the first time I got a puncture with my Stan’s setup. There was a brief “fizzt” as air escaped, a little liquid latex squirted onto my legs, and that was the end of it. The puncture was defeated. I never even had to get off my bike.

I was in love.

Or rather, I was in love until I raced the Tour of Canyonlands that year. On the first downhill, I hit a square rock, good and hard. The seal broke and all the air instantly burst out. I tried getting the latex to seal up again, but no luck. I had to remove the rimstrip, drain out the latex, and put in a new tube before I could continue.

By the time I was ready to ride, I was both in dead last place, and covered in liquid latex goop.

I Am a Slow Learner

Of course, a freak accident like this can happen once to anyone, right? So of course, I didn’t abandon the Stan’s setup.

Or rather, I didn’t abandon it until the exact same thing happened to me when I was racing the Brian Head Epic 100 later that summer. I’m not sure why Stan’s always chose to fail on me during races, but it did.

Stan and I are no longer on speaking terms.

Additional Observations on Getting Flats While Racing

I have never timed myself, but I’d guess that on an average day, I change a mountain bike tube in about seven minutes. I’m not particularly fast.

When I get a flat while racing, however, I work much faster, and therefore take approximately twice as long to fix the flat. My fingers shake with anger and adrenaline as I try to undo the zipper to the seatbag. I fumble trying to pull the tire off the rim. I forget to check the tire for thorns. I put the wrong tube — the one that I just pulled out — back on the rim. I put the wheel back on the bike backwards.

All while telling myself (out loud), “Be cool. Calm down. Take it easy. Clumsy oaf.”

As hard as I am on myself, though, I’m much harder on others. About 90 miles into the Leadville 100 one year, I came across a guy with his wheel off his bike, working on a flat. “Everything OK?” I called out, assuming it was.

“No, I need help,” he replied.

Well.

I stopped, asking him what was up. He had a flat and his pump was broken. I loaned him mine, then anxiously fidgeted for what was probably 15 seconds while he pumped. Then I jumped on my bike and said impatiently, “The pump’s a gift. I’ve got to finish this race,” and took off.

I can be a real jerk.

Road Flats: Not an Issue

I used to get flats on my road bike all the time. Since I’ve started riding on Specialized Armadillos, I have not had any more flats. At all (the flats I got on my fixie were with the tires it came with; the fixie now has Armadillos).

That said, Armadillos do have their problems: They’re heavy, they have poor road feel, and they’re difficult to get on and off the rim. I happily live with all those flaws, though, because I can confidently ride through broken glass, in fields of molten lava, and over tire shredders.

The Perfect MTB Tire Setup?

As Racer set me up with a loaner bike for the Leadville 100 last year, he told me he was extremely confident that I would not flat. The sweet spot setup, he said, is a tubeless rim and wheel (ie, a rim and wheel that are designed to be tubeless, not an aftermarket tubeless add-on), with a little Stan’s Notube goop rolling around inside, just to catch little punctures. And sure enough, I didn’t get a flat.

Which means, of course, absolutely nothing.

I would be willing, though, to spend hundreds and hundreds of dollars on an MTB wheel/tire combo that was light, had great traction, and practically never flatted. If such a thing exists.