The Addiction Spreads

I know someone who got a new bike this weekend (because her current bike tried to kill her and it was finally taken out back and shot . . . it was never truly loved and, frankly, how she ever was able to climb hills on that thing was a mystery to me . . . that frame geometry was just wrong, and the thing still gets great reviews as a comfortable ride . . . that's just wrong).

But the new bike, oh it will be loved. It's been named "The White Purl" and will be getting a pink basket with a flower on it. Maybe that'll tell you whose it is. And, yes, it's another cross bike. It will provide the road feeling with the rugged ability to ride on crushed lime with some 32s. We're hoping that we'll be able to ride down to Augusta for our seventh anniversary. It's only about a 26 mile ride from the Page extension bridge and there are some neat little cabins right on the trail.

I think I gave that away.

I'm pleased, though. In addition to this bike, Matilda's new bike and four friends who have all purchased new bikes, I can say that I feel good about spreading this addiction. And I'm hoping to get to ride with my father-in-law around Carlyle Lake before the summer's over.

Oh, and last week I tried desperately to run into The Ditty Bops while riding. We had to miss the show, so I hoped I could at least see them bopping down the KATY Trail. Turned out I missed them by ten minutes. If I hadn't refilled my water, I would have seen them. But I would also have looked like this. Turned out okay, though. Sounds like Amanda wasn't in the mood to be seen anyway. Not that I would have talked to them. I probably would have yelled my support and kept riding.

Because I'm an idiot.

P.S. My previous month record was May at 487 miles. This month I rode 523, which doesn't include rides around the neighborhood with the kids. Oddly enough, July also knocked out 8 of my top 10 fastest rides, which now range from an AVS of 17.35 and 18.0 mph. I'm not ready to start in a race or anything, but that's a significant improvement over last year.

My progress has been interesting. If you look at my monthly tallies, I've been slowly tacking up the miles (mechanical issues notwithstanding). Though, to be fair, January through March contained a lot of indoor training (though a surprising amount of outdoor riding as well).

My cumulative numbers are interesting as well. I could end the year with roughly 5000 miles under my tires, depending on how November and December shake out temp wise (I'm a wuss, I won't go if it's colder than 48 . . . why 48? My lungs hurt below that temperature. Go figure . . .).

Of course I track all of this. Doesn't every one?

Lance on Landis

Lance talks, very little, about the situation.

But that's not important. LA takes a few swipes at Greg LeMond in the process. I swear, those two should just beat the crap out of each other and get it over with.

Phonak's Dubious Distinction

As a follow-up to my previous post, this article is a pretty good summary of the difficulties (or deep issues) Phonak has had with doping.

And more (perhaps too much) on testosterone.

(You Make Me Feel Like) A Natural Cyclist

Floyd is mounting his defense. As I expected, he is going with the natural defense. I'm skeptical of this, but I have so much compassion for Floyd that I'm willing to believe him.

But, notice the tone change in his speaking. He's clearly under the guidance of a lawyer now. He's lost his, "Gosh, I don't know" honesty and now sounds like, well, Lance Armstrong.

Actually, strangely, the person I've been losing the most respect for lately is Greg LeMond. The very guy I used to pretend to be when I was in middle school riding my 10-speed (then I discovered smoking in ninth grade and the bike was replaced with torn jeans and a Van Halen t-shirt . . . it took some time to find the bike). My problem with Greg is not his position on things, but how every time he opens his mouth he sounds like a hurt teenager. Or, sometimes, a crotchety old man. "Back in my day we rode up those mountains in ten feet of snow dragging a donkey loaded with water and we used yak bladders for tubulars. And we didn't use performance enhancing drugs. We didn't even eat! We didn't need food, we climbed those mountains by extracting power out of the sunlight!"

Funny performance enhancing drug irony of the day. At one time, cyclists smoked cigarettes before a big climb. They believed the smoke opened the lungs and aided in breathing. Back then, all cyclists sounded like Patty and Selma from the Simpsons.

The Problem With The Truth

Is that it's usually trumped by sensation. I don't know if Floyd Landis cheated to win the Tour de France. I want to believe he didn't, but I don't know Floyd so I can't vouch for him. But history isn't exactly on his side. And his hiding doesn't help much.

However, I'm going to start putting up links to articles I read that might help things be understood. The test he failed is largely inconclusive, from what I understand. But, he also happens to come from a team that has a rather shady past when it comes to performance enhancing drugs. In the last three years they've have at least five riders with positive tests, including American Tyler Hamilton who gave the most preposterous reason for his abnormal tests: He had a disappearing twin and that's why it appeared he had someone else's blood coursing through his veins.

If Floyd cheated, he deserves the humiliation. I like Floyd, but I like the sport more. I feel it needs to be competed by men and machines without chemicals. The sport needs to be cleaned up, because I'm not sure any of the guys in the current peloton don't bend the rules to some extent. And that pisses me off. And it should piss off any club rider who spends his summer training for a local criterium, pays his entry fee, suffers like a dog for a few hours, crosses the line with a smile and is proud of 53rd place.

If he didn't cheat, he deserves our apologies because we like to crucify before we get evidence in sport. That is, unless you're in baseball or football. Then you keep on playing while people make fun of you but you continue to make a mockery of the sport by cheating.

Anyway, here's an interesting article on testosterone. It helps you understand, to a little extent, what they are looking for, how it can be found what it might mean, etc.

Say It Ain't So, Floyd

Seriously, man. Say it ain't so. Not, you. Not when cycling really needed to have someone to believe in. Please say that years ago you had Armstrong's removed ball grafted on as a tribute to your old boss.

Still . . . years of data have been kept on you and they can analyze your testosterone levels for a decade or so. I'm guessing that the "natural" defense might be out. I'm hoping it's a false positive and that you can retain your crown. Otherwise . . .

Sigh.

Summer Mix

I'm taking a break from writing something about school curriculum that is making my brain melt to post my summer mix. It's short. But it should go along with the heat many of us are experiencing. Crack out the Tiki glasses and umbrellas for your drinks and crank it up.

Also, I'm pretty sure all of this is illegal, so go buy the bands' albums and get me off the hook. Sorry the Marden Hill song "Curtain" is listed as "unknown" in the file. I meant to fix that. Didn't. The tag is right. And the album is fun (thank eMusic!)

1. Marden Hill - Execution
2. Marine Girls - A Place In The Sun
3. Marden Hill - Curtain
4. Twinkle - Golden Lights
5. Marden Hill - Spanish Slalem
6. Marine Girls - Honey
7. Band of Bees - Chicken Payback
8. Jane - It's A Fine Day

And It Didn't Hurt . . . Much

I rode my fastest 20 miles today. Broke my own record by about 2 minutes. If you've ever tried to go just one mile an hour faster on a bike, you know how much of an accomplishment that is. I only wish I had more time to ride further.

Anyway. I don't know why I posted that. But if I keep up my mileage for this month I'll finally, FINALLY cross 500 miles for the month. I'm considering quitting my job so I can go on longer rides. Anyone want to sponsor me? I'll gladly change my name if you sponsor me. I have no problem being known as "Disney's Gary O'Brien". Or "Microsoft's Gary O'Brien". I'll even wear your logo wherever I go.

Plus, no where's the best part, I won't ever be busted for performance enhancing drugs. Why?

1. I'm not racing anyone but myself.
2. As a diabetic I take enough shots.
3. Unless you consider a cup of Haitian Bleu (the best coffee in the world from VJ Coffee in St. Louis . . . yes, it's better than anything you can ever imagine) performance enhancing. Which, technically, studies show it is. But no one bans it because they fear they'd get killed if the Italians can't have their coffee in the morning.

This was a pointless post.

The Yellow Brick Road

Floyd Landis has won the Tour de France, making him the third American to do so and extending America's grip on the Yellow Jersey to an eighth consecutive year.

Floyd literally went through hell to win this race. He fought for it and the victory is well-deserved.

More impressively, it looks like the manner in which he won impressed no less than The Cannibal himself. Not bad, not bad. I wonder if Mr. Merckx saw a little of himself in that performance.

Hrm . . .

This isn't good for Ulle.

Edited to add: I don't know if Ullrich is a doper or not. Perhaps T-Mobile has something on him. Perhaps not. But, this quote is just messed up: "T-Mobile said it was demanding evidence of his innocence." How do you prove that you are innocent?

Floyd Landis' Secret Weapon

Patrick O'Grady at Velonews has asked the hard questions and is on track to discover the secret weapon that Floyd Landis unleashed to destroy the peloton yesterday. He may be on to something.

Quote:

"I mean, c'mon - how many cues does a savvy scribe need? During a press conference after Landis went as flat as a 2-year-old Michelob Ultra on the Stage-16 grunter to La Toussuire, the former race leader was asked, 'How do you deal with this from a mental standpoint?'

"His reply: 'I don't know. Drink some beer? That's what I'm thinking about now.'

"Then, at a press conference on Thursday, after Landis chased down an 11-man breakaway, killed them and ate them, built a new bicycle out of their bones, and roared away in a pillar of fire to win the stage to Morzine and jump back to within 30 seconds of the yellow jersey, he mentioned beer once again."

Floyd Landis

Is a cycling god. After yesterday's meltdown, screaming at the TV hoping to give him the energy to stay in yellow, today's solo victory and coming back from 8 minutes away from the Tour win to a mere 30 seconds . . . I think I need sedation. Truly, today's tour stage was one of the most amazing days of cycling I've watched. Time may show it eclipsing Greg LeMond's amazing journey to the Champs in 89.

I've only read about the daring exploits of Fausto Coppi, but I can imagine them now . . . This was serious old school cycling. I just wish Phil Liggett had used my favorite phrase, "pedals turned in anger".

Okay, maybe it was too much of an obscure reference for non-cycling fans. Here's Coppi's wiki.

Hee Hee

1. I have new wheels on my bike.

2. The Tour goes up Alpe d'Huez tomorrow and La Toussuire on Weds. I hope to be completely hoarse tomorrow after rooting someone up that little hill. Floyd? Yeah, sure. Wouldn't mind an underdog attacking though . . .

These are all good things. They'd be great things if the cumulative outside temperature this week weren't roughly 500 degrees.

UPDATE: I just rode on the new wheels for the first time. It may sound weird, but I can feel the difference. I trust them more. Oddly, they are slightly lighter than my old wheels. I'll be curious to see how a full ride will feel on them.

My short ride around the neighborhood made me realize a lot of things. The dealer who sold me this bike is, without a doubt, a terrible bike builder. A lot of problems that I was suffering have been due to a poor initial build. Brake issues? Due to the lazy build. Crank issues? A quick reassembly cleared it all up. Overall, with the new wheels and all the other fiddling my favorite bike shop did, it's like the bike I actually wanted. Go figure.

How much did they charge me for all of this? Nothing. Zero. They've been servicing a bike bought from another shop, fixed the rear wheel three times, fixed my bottom bracket, shifting issues, adjustments, and even checked over wheels I bought on the Internet (at their suggestion), installed them and sent me on my way for $0. Of course, I've sent them three bike sales in that short period of time as well. Plus I keep buying gear. Of course,

When I brought my bike into the original shop to get a quick adjustment before a ride a week after I bought it? They gave me nothing but grief about how I had to wait 30 days for the cables to stretch and told me that usually it takes a week for them to turn these things around, despite the fact that their website says: "Getting ready to ride and discovered a flat tire? Hit a pot hole and your rim is out of true? Sometimes you can't plan when your bike needs attention. Why not bring it in? If you need a minor adjustment and we can fix it on the spot, we will."


The thirty day rule is true, of course. However I generally consider it to be a problem when you can't shift from one chain ring to another. That's not natural stretching. And it renders the bike virtually unusable. I believe they never had the proper cable tension in the first place.

Touring Cyclist, my St. Louis friends. Their show rooms are mostly Fuji and Trek, but ask about their special ordering abilities. From Surly to fine Swiss bikes that may win the Tour this year, they can hook you up. Go to Bridgeton and ask for Mike, George or Zac. They're good guys.

It's Like Africa Hot

About four miles from home today, at the end of one of my usual routes, I crapped out because of the heat. I wasn't dehydrated, nor did I need to eat. I was just sapped. My body could no longer do what I was asking it to do without cooling off first. I've heard about heat wilting you, but man . . . Those last few miles I felt like I was crawling and that gravity was exerting twice the force on me. Worse, that first mile was a slow, gradual hill that seemed to mock me. I couldn't find a comfortable position, my legs felt like spaghetti noodles and my eyes were stinging with sweat.

Here's the difference. Time of day. I usually ride in the morning, but not today. So even though I've ridden through air temperatures similar to this afternoon's, the position of the sun and the heat that was absorbing and reflecting off the asphalt made it worse.

What a sorry sight I must have been. I know. I was there.

My wheels should arrive tomorrow. So it's a perfect time to take some time out of the saddle. I need to reverse my cellular damage.

Freaking Levi, Man

Today's Tour stage was interesting. At times it felt like a headless snake not knowing what to do without a dominant rider to direct the course through the mountains. Other times it was a wild series of attacks, crashes, and cracks. Mayo cursing the cameras trying to catch the moment where he dismounted and gave up (which eventually he did) or riders screaming at the motor bikes to get out of the way because they were slowing down the mountain descents. George Hincapie took himself out of contention by finishing at least 16 minutes down for the day. Discovery Channel, in fact, pretty much crumbled today. Maybe it's a strategy. Riiiiight.

And, of course, another American wears the yellow jersey.

But today my heart belonged to Levi Leipheimer. He rode a terrible time trial, had a few bad days and started this morning in a dismal 58th place. He had a fantastic day, missing the stage win by inches (to a stronger rider) and rode like he had forgotten his troubles. I was nearly doing backflips for him as he rode up the final climb and raced to the finish. He now sits in 13th. He has no hope of a podium spot. Well, in a normal Tour he'd have no hope. But this is the Bizzaro Tour. Who knows what can happen? He could attack on Alpe d'Huez next week and destroy his competition, ride a brilliant final TT and suddenly find himself in the catbird seat. Stranger things have happened . . . It won't, but in race where the guy who comes in last can walk into a French bar and have his drinks paid for by the fans, you just never know.

Hot Cup of Hoffee?

Oh. My.

I have no idea how to react to this. If any of these women get into the car with the Hoff, they deserve whatever they catch. Honestly I don't know what's worse, the completely superfluous references to when Hasselhoff was barely relevant or the flying heads behind him or, gag, the "Hot Cup of Hoffee". Ugh.

This has been the Hoff's month, though. First he has emergency surgery after a bizarre "shaving accident". I don't know what he was shaving in order to hit his head on a chandelier. He had to be standing on the sink, which means he was shaving . . . I have to stop thinking about it. Then he was kicked out of Wimbledon. Wow. He managed to get so drunk that he upset the country that invented Football Hooligans. That's impressive.

The Hoff. I don't get it. In fact, I think I vomited in my mouth a little. Enjoy.

Hey Look!

I'm on OLN. Well, not me. My bike. I'll do anything for a t-shirt.

We're Winners!

Every day since the start of the Tour de France, Gert and I diligently sit down at the computer and play Trek's Tour Mania Scratch and Win game. I log in and Gert picks her Bobke token to scratch off the three little squares.

We have our hopes and dreams for the prizes. Click on "Scratch & Win" and then "Prizes and Sponsors" to see what we are playing for. I'll be honest, I want the bikes. I don't need to ride with Lance, I have a laptop and I'm actually wearing the t-shirt right now.

Most mornings we are met with defeat. Others we have near successes. "It says Discovery computer! We have two Discovery computers!" The third, of course, always says Powerbar. Worse, some mornings we get two Powerbars and we scream with dread that we'll actually win a Powerbar.

But today was different. When we sat down, Mom said, "I think today is your day guys."

"Mom," Gert cried. "Please don't say that!" She's a superstitious soul.

Gert scratched the first box. It said, "Water Bottle". Gert scratched the second box. It said "Water Bottle". We were both twitchy with excitement over the prospect of winning a $5 water bottle. She scratched the third box . . .

"Water Bottle!"

She leapt into the air an shrieked with delight. Then she started to dance. For the rest of the morning she sang a song that went something like this:

We won a water bottle (shake hips)
Oh yeah a water bottle (shake hips)
We won a water bottle (shake hips)
We are the winners (shake hips twice)
I was the scratcher (shake hips, jazz hands)
We won a water bottle (shake hips)

Because it's all sponsored by Trek, we don't have to wait to receive our prize. We have a letter that states we won a water bottle and we merely have to take it to our local Trek Store to pick up our bottle. Tonight Mommy has knitting so Gert and I are going on an adventure.

"You know," I said, "you get to keep the water bottle for your bike."

"Cool."

"It's just like the ones the racers on Discovery Channel use. George Hincapie even uses them."

"Hincapie! I will use it on my bike rides!" (She and Matilda selected George as their personal Tour favorites during the prologue. Each time I root for Floyd Landis, I get dirty looks.)

And so, she started her day as a winner. To share in her joy she brought blankets and granola bars for all the other kids at Diana's today so they could all enjoy a "rainy day snack".

Me? I'll be at Kinko's feeding the copier full of my good luck.

Tour Humor

Heh. Specialized's tour-themed webpage is funny. Make sure to mouse over her when she's loaded.

(Unless you're talking about doing something inappropriate to a drunk woman, then I think you shouldn't mouse over anyone because that's just wrong.)

The wheelset upgrade on the bike has led to upgrade fever. Why not upgrade the whole drivetrain? Seriously. I've put 2000 miles or so on this one and by the time I have banked up enough money to do it, it'll have 5 or 6,000 on it. Or more.

Actually, the upgrades I'm thinking of aren't just silly. They are needed. The riding I was doing before I bought the bike matched the components supplied. However, I've quickly moved in a new direction and I'm just beating the hell out of this bike and the upgrade will provide with a happier, healthier bike. And we're talking buying each component as it goes on sale and installing when I get what I want.

What is the problem? It's the front derailleur and the shifters, for the most part. Hate the derailleur, not fond of the shifters. Both are Sora. Why do I hate the derailleur? It's . . . chunky and imprecise. It has two settings, really (and my LBS and I have tried to find any other way possible). Either I can get chain-cross down to a minimum but have issues shifting back up to my large chain ring or I can have smooth shifting and as I shift closer to the wheel my chain drags across the derailleur so much that it sounds like I've put baseball cards in my spokes. No amount of adjustment helps. It's always one or the other. I know I'm going to have some chain cross, but jeez. That much metal on metal grinding is never good for anyone. As for the shifters, the mechanism will probably break before I plan to upgrade anyway. Good idea in theory, but in practice not so much. The other pieces will just make the two I've already mentioned work all the better.

Should have gotten the upgrades when I bought the bike and saved money in the long run, but I didn't know then. Did I?

Spoke of the Wheel Whirled

So, yeah. Broke another spoke. I think there's something wrong with the wheel itself. After breaking that many I've decided it's time to just ditch the wheels that came with the bike and choose new ones.

Great idea, right?

Well, not exactly. Do you have any idea how many wheel options there are?

See, I can pick up a set of wheels that were pre-built. They're cheaper, but they may not be stronger or better. So you look at buying rims, a hub and more spoke options than I thought possible. Even if I choose the rim, I have to then choose the hub. I have three hub options with one company alone, and if I investigate the Campy options, well . . . that's a whole new can o' worms.

I think my wife may be getting irritated with me though. I keep showing her pictures, asking her if I think the spoke count is good.

But, here's what I've learned. No matter what you are talking about, no matter how good your intentions, never, ever ask your wife her opinion on brass nipples.

Hot Blooded

Little Gert always asks the difficult questions. Last night she was watching the Tour de France preview on OLN with me and, as always, asked all sorts of questions. Who will win? Who's that guy? Which one is Liquigas (she loves the name)? Can I ride that fast?

How about:
Daddy, the riders who aren't allowed to race how did they cheat?

That one stopped me dead in my tracks. Point shaving I could explain to a kid. Throwing a race, I could explain. Sticking a lead pipe in someone's spokes or pushing them off a mountain, I could explain. The confrontation between O'Grady and McEwan last year, the head push, I could explain. Steroids I could explain.

But how do you explain blood doping to a four-year-old? Luckily, I work for college textbook publishers and she's currently reading Vander's Human Physiology, which was sitting on my shelf. Once she has a base understanding of how the human body works, then I'll explain what those guys were accused of. Until then, I have no freaking idea how to describe it that wouldn't either sound boring and scientific, or like a horror/sci fi movie.