apparently I now post in response to comments

An anonymous "Chuck" commented last night on my competition post. It's difficult to tell if his question is serious or if I'm being goaded. Here's the comment:


Hey Goat--

As a amateur cyclist I heard from my competitors that it may help to shave your legs. I know this may sound stupid, but my hair gets tangled at times when I am riding.

Looking at your legs they seem shaven in the pictures, just wondering if this increases your speed or what the purpose is?

Cheers,

Chuck


It's a little suspicious... I'm thinking "Chuck" isn't really a cyclist at all (probably one of my students, actually, in which case he--or more likely they--will probably be disappointed with what follows), but I'll peck out a quick response anyway. It's good to have these sorts of things on the record.

...

There are about a bazillion discussions on leg-shaving available through the pipes (here's one, two), but from my perspective there are four main reasons, one of which is the most critical (I'll let you guess which one).

(1) You shave because you wreck...and you don't want to deal with hair on your legs when you're dealing with wound care.

(2) The stuff you put on your legs--like sunscreen, anti-itch cream (a big deal for me during pollen season), and, especially critical during the cx season, embrocation--all goes on and comes off much easier with shaved legs. And a massage, even if it's a simple self-massage, is easier and more pleasant (no hair-pulling) without the shrubbery.

(3) You feel like a cyclist with smooth legs. They just look better...and there's something to say for that tiny bit of vanity-induced motivation to push just a little harder in that ITT or climbing that hill that you get when you look down at your ripped pedal mashers.

(4) Finally, the social consequences (in the pelaton) of not shaving your legs. Leg-shaving signals commitment and competence. Well, I suppose it's the opposite that is more true: hairy legs signal incompetence and a lack of commitment. Let me explain.

Riding with a big group of cyclists on the road is a potentially dangerous activity. It certainly doesn't have to be, if folks are properly instructed and have some experience, but it also can be. And you learn, when riding with others, the nuances of your compatriots' riding styles. You learn who knows to soft-pedal through braking, who can hold a line through a turn, who is conscious of others' proximity...and those who ride seemingly oblivious to the fact that others' safety is dependent on their behavior. After riding with folks for a while you can predict their movements, almost subconsciously, in a way that makes riding with them safe and natural...as safe and natural as a stroll through the park, even if bumping handlebars during a spirited conversation.

However, when riding with people you don't know, you have to make judgments regarding skill and competence, judgments your personal safety depends on, and you have to do this with very little information. You rely on tells--subtle signals like the angle of a stem, the quality of socks, and a host of other hard-to-articulate signs that telegraph skill and experience.

If we model pack-riding as a multi-round, multi-party prisoner's dilemma, the Nash equilibrium is either everybody stays up (a feat that often seems nothing short of miraculous, yet, empirically is undeniable) or everybody goes down (the perception of mountain bikers and tri-geeks who are afraid to do group road rides). And as any of my students should know, in order to maximize utility in a prisoner's dilemma it is critical to signal (early and often) not only your cooperative intentions, but your capacity to engage in relevant cooperative behavior (in this case, pack-riding skill).

Leg-shaving is one way to do so. Or, more properly stated, not shaving one's legs is a powerful signal of an inability to cooperate.

I couldn't always articulate it as I have above, but I remember learning very early on (I started riding competitively at 14) that if a newcomer shows up to a group ride with hairy legs (or tri-bars) to give them w i d e birth, and whenever possible to stay in front of them (which, generally, wasn't difficult, because these same folks usually didn't know what they were getting into on a fast group ride, and were often quickly left on their own).

And so there you have it. The social functionality of leg-shaving: The real reason amateur cyclists shave their legs.

a thought or two on competition

In response to my brother's comment on a past post...


Well, who's to say what society values, but I can say with some confidence that I place value on competition...or I wouldn't be going to the races...

I've gone round and round on the 'why I compete' question. Is it about being better than others? Is it just a way of gauging personal growth? Maybe both. But clearly I also just enjoy it.

What can I say, I'm just a big kid... Bike racing is a game. Games are fun. And while simply playing the game is a good time, winning the game is better.

...

My disappointment at Fair Hill has to do with losing, of course, but also with losing by so little a margin. Having victory right there and not quite being able to pull it off.

There are financial and vanity issues associated with the loss as well. Had I finished in the top three I would have taken home a bag full of goodies. And had my picture taken on the podium. I admit, albeit sheepishly, that I value these things.

And there are other considerations. There are upgrade points (forth place w/ 25-49 competitors earns me two upgrade points, whereas first would have garnered five). There are series points (which would affect my call-up position if I were to race any more MAC races this year or the first of the series next year). And there's the ribbing I suffered from Moats for getting beat by someone he handily dispatched the week before.

:-)

...

There's a more serious response to this question as well. Thanks to Eric Liddell, I think I can come close to articulating it.

Eric, whose story is dramatized in Chariots of Fire, misses a church service because of his training. His sister gets upset about it, but Eric explains to her, "I believe that God made me for a purpose ... [the missionary work he'll later do in China, which his sister thinks very important], but He also made me fast, and when I run, I feel His pleasure."

I'm not sure that there's a better justification for sport than that.

Sport is the acknowledgment of human potential. It's the recognition that our bodies are good for more than carrying our heads around. I feel good when I ride. I feel good when I ride fast. And though there is an emptiness to competing just to prove yourself better than others, there's an unexplainable but undeniably righteous joy in being best. It's as if all creation rejoices with you in achieving that end for which you came to be.



You don't have to believe in God to find that religiously poignant. You just have to believe in sport.

my (bike's) 10 seconds of fame: Mercer Cup

The day belonged to this dude...


...and this gal...


...while I didn't make it two complete laps before this:


Consolation prize? My bike featured in a VeloNews photo gallery:

...

It was a tough day to be an amateur cyclocross racer without a pit bike or crew. Most of the pros were making bike changes every half lap. I made it nearly two laps (yes...only! two laps) and then this--one cleanly sheared derailleur hanger. (I wasn't the only one, btw. Kabush had to run half a lap and consequently lost any chance at the podium due to an identical problem. And there were others...)

The crew from Specialized was there with their team and demo bikes, which was cool, but they didn't have any hangers. The SRAM support dudes were there, but they didn't have a hanger that fit (but, to their credit, they tried for a good 15 minutes to find something that would work), and Knapp's (sp?) Cycling was there (one of the title sponsors)...well, they were supposed to be there, but it turns out they weren't anywhere to be found--at least in a capacity to do anything about my mechanical.

So that was that.

...

Reuben had an MRI in Philly on Friday so we decided to head to the coast and make a weekend of it. Coincidentally, the US Grand Prix of Cyclocross was making a stop in Jersey the same weekend. How lucky. But less than two laps around the stickiest, muddiest course I've ever ridden and that was it for the racing.

fair hill

A couple of pics from Fair Hill last Saturday:

(I'm kind of hiding back there to the left, between the heads
of the dude in yellow and the Guy's Racing dude in green.)


(Another barrier shot... Why do photographers think barrier shots are so cool?)

...

A really nice day at the races last Saturday. It was a beautiful morning, a great course, and I was in a sunny mood to match the weather.

But the race could have gone better than it did. (I suppose it also could have gone much worse.)

After a season of really pretty good starts I really blew this one. I overestimated the size of the gear I'd want to be in and lost a lot of ground, from an already mid-pack start position, right from the gun. Forty-four riders started, and into the first turn I was sitting 30th or worse. Arrgh.

But the course suited me--lots of power sections, plenty of room to pass--and I rode the long sand pit section surprisingly well, generally gaining ground on those around me through it. So halfway through the race I had made my way up and was riding somewhere around 5th or 6th place.

I also had the first set of barriers pinned. Most rode the final 180 prior to the barriers. I dismounted before the final turn and came out of the barriers about 10 feet up on whomever I was riding with at the time.

Well, somewhere in there I got passed by a few folks (one had the audacity to ask if I was a lapped rider...yes, I was insulted) and I was sitting seventh going into the final lap. But I found my second wind and on a longish uphill section I put in a beautiful effort, coming around three riders (including the jerk who thought I'd been lapped) even though they were each spaced about 20 feet apart from one another.

That last lap I really felt great--shifting up and out of the saddle on all the straightaways--and by the second barriers I was just seconds behind the second and third place riders. But I couldn't catch them. I crossed the line fist-pumping in frustration at having been so close, but not being able to close the deal. (One spot off the podium...again!) I finished two seconds down on third, four seconds down on second, and only 18 seconds down on first.

The moral of this story (as it almost always is): ya gotta nail the start. Had I hit that first corner in the top 10 I'm confident I would have won the race. Eighteen seconds? That's next to nothing given the time and effort it takes to pass 3/4 the field during a 45 minute event.

Oh well. Disappointment may be why I keep racing...

cell phone companies: the new corporate evil

I can't remember if I've blogged on this before, but cell phone companies are really starting to chap my hide. And it's all David Pogue's fault (well, not all his fault...I've also way too much experience arguing with impotent customer service reps over billing errors and other service problems).

And now this.

People tell me all the time that they're waiting for the iPhone to be offered through Verizon before making the leap. Think again. At least AT&T has agreed to do something about the 15-second voice mail scam. At least. (Though I've had my share of negative experiences with AT&T billing and customer service.)

I really hate these companies. And I hate that I hate them, because all that negative energy...well, it takes a toll. But you know that there are real people behind all these decisions, people with kids and dogs who are sitting around a conference table discussing these scams. And they likely have convinced themselves that they aren't bastards for running them. But they're wrong. They are bastards. Unethical, disingenuous, and unkind.

And the thing that probably drives me the craziest about these folks is that I have no access. I know they're there, but I don't know where there is. I can call and complain until my voice is horse and I wear out the phone line, but there are miles of bureaucratic morass between the people who I can access and the people making decisions. And that really bothers me. It's a reminder of my own impotent role in this play, and there's no feeling quite like that of being so poignantly aware of your own powerlessness.

I imagine that this is the kind of thing that practicing yoga would be good for...

health care (overdrive)

About a year ago I wrote about this woman, who I at the time described as mildly insane. She's in the news again...


...stirring up others who, at worst, may also be delusional, but, more charitably, are probably better described as naive or uninformed. You can read about it in The Times here.

My favorite bit:


"Ms. Garloch, like many in the crowd who while visibly angry, could not articulate the main problems in the health care system or how they should be solved."


And that really about sums it up, doesn't it? A lot of people mad about...well, mad, but they can't say really what about.

More:


"Mr. Hershberger, like many of the demonstrators, repeated some of the most common conservative and Republican talking points heard repeatedly on Fox News. 'It’s not bipartisan,' he said, standing outside the Capitol wearing a Texas Longhorns baseball cap. 'They are doing it behind closed doors.' He added: 'It’s going to drive us into a super-deficit.'"


Ah... Now I understand a little better. They're mad because someone else was mad. Or mad because they were told they should be mad.


"Asked what he thought about the three-month effort by Senator Max Baucus, Democrat of Montana, work with Republicans on the Senate Finance Committee to draft a bipartisan bill, Mr. Hershberger dismissed it, saying the resulting legislation proved the process had failed. 'It doesn’t reflect what we want,' he said."


Nice.

With a crowd like that (angry, active, committed, non-thinking folks), there's no wonder Michele Bachmann's at the podium. These are her people!

Ted Robinson on TED...

...gives a talk on the importance of nurturing creativity in education, and the failure of most education systems to do so.

After discussing the prevalent hierarchy of subjects in all public education systems the world over--mathematics and language first, humanities second, and the arts third--he leaves us with this:

"Our education system has mined our minds in the way that we've strip mined the earth, for a particular commodity..."

That which makes us employable and economically productive.

Clever.

I think he's right.

You can watch the 20-minute video here. If you're in education, or care about it, you'll likely find the time spent worthwhile.

...

I enjoy Mr. Robinson's critique of our educational systems, though I certainly don't have the answer as to how it should be done, if how we are doing it is wrong. All the same, I know how I feel in the classrooms of children.

I have empathy for the authoritarian when I "supervise" indoor recess with 20 seven year-olds playing wild dogs and cats and I'm scared half to death, scenes from a real-life enactment of Lord of the Flies at my feet. Children, with all their energy and wild creativity, can be terrifying. They're so much easier to control with strict, rigid discipline.

But I also know this: I see kindergartners neatly lined up, waiting to go to lunch--"Arms to your side. No talking. Walk, don't run. Stay in line."--and I'm overwhelmed with a deep desire to set them free. I hate to sound too dramatic, but when I see that, I feel a little ill. Like I'm witnessing a crime. And it tugs at my heart, like the claws of moral responsibility, and I'm left with the sense that my job in education, my holy calling, is to do my best to get these poor, obedient little bastards to unlearn all the fear, powerlessness, servility, and acquiescence to authority that they're being taught there and to learn to love and trust themselves again.

the year's first mudder

After the fact that was Murrysville Cross:


Next up: Fair Hill.

airline bike box fees

The research is all the work of someone else. Reproduced here without permission, primarily for my own reference:


Air Canada: $50, plus checked baggage fees.

AirTran: $79.

Alaska / Horizon: $50.

Allegiant Air: $50.

American: $100 in addition to the applicable checked baggage fee.

Continental: $100.

Delta Airlines: $175.

Frontier Airlines: This document says $50, while this page says $75.

Hawaiian Airlines: $100, unless you're doing intra-island travel in which case the fee is only $25.

Jet Blue: $75.

Northwest Airlines: $100.

Southwest Airlines: $50.00.

United Airlines: $85.

US Airways: $100.

Virgin American: $50.

iron cross lite & the podiums in our lives

Audrey had a nice Iron Cross Lite. The pictures, I think, adequately tell the story.



...

I love to see Audrey riding her bike. And I love to see her on the podium.

I love to see me on the podium too, but I feel a little cheesy up there, like I'm play-acting. I mean, it's a part I love to play, don't get me wrong, but look at those kids. Their expressions of joy are so genuine. Magnificent.

Anyway...the parts I've played in the past few weeks:

2009 Iron Cross Lite, Men's 3/4

2009 Murrysville Cross, Men's 3/4

As cheesy as all that is, I'd rather be on the podium than off! And third place feels nice after having finished one spot out of the money in Hagerstown and at Iron Cross VII.

Hats off to the folks who put on Murrysville for their deep payout (eight places in a field of 38). Promoters on this side of the mountains (MABRA series races, PA series races, and the MAC) who also enjoy the benefit of deeper fields could take a lesson.

...

Murrysville Cross on Saturday was a wonderful muddy mess. My first mud of the '09 cx season. And a tough race. I had notions of doubling up--the 3/4 at noon and the 1/2/3 at 2 pm--but I was toast after that first race. Rather surprised at how beat I felt, frankly. The mud...it seems to drain a little from your body's every muscle. My abs ached. Plus, no hose = dirty, dirty bike.

I suppose you'd have to ask the spectators, but I think we gave them a race worth watching.

I had a prime starting position (thanks to presently holding the series lead), pretty much blew it right off, and had a delightful time slowly picking off riders over the next several laps. I was passed a few times too. Some by guys who started off with a pace they couldn't maintain, and some when I got caught up in some tape and had to stop briefly to untangle. And that's what I think made the race exciting. A bit of back and forth. The race wasn't really decided until the end. By midway through the last lap I was only 20 feet down on the dude in second place. Unfortunately, he caught sight of me, found my breathing down his backside all too motivating, and rode the last half lap with a fire under his saddle. He earned his spot.

...

In other news, yesterday, a new (almost) half world champion was crowned. Wish I could have been there.

mean, mean gunner

Gunner Shogren, bully:

(Iron Cross Lite, 2009)

Jessica's Web

I was just quickly reading through the introduction of a book, to figure out what the book is about, and came upon a peculiar statement:


Jessica's Web [the name of the book] was written for people who endorse the following four statements:

* In my career, I intend to make a positive difference for others.
* I know that I don't know all that my career demands.
* I plan to work both smart and hard in my career.
* I want to advance to positions of greater influence and opportunities to better please a higher power.


I read through the first three points, absorbing them without difficulty (not many would have difficulty endorsing the first three points), then read the fourth. And I stopped. Stunned.

I read it again. And again. At first I thought it the author's intention was to say that his book is for people who want to please their boss. But after a second reading, I'm pretty sure the author is referring to a higher power, as in a Higher Power.

Unfortunately, there is no further explanation, no further clues as to the author's intention, an omission that I find both troubling and baffling. But I don't like it. Not at all. It reads conspiratorially, a wink to people in the know, people who will know they're in the know when they read that. It hints at a very particular worldview that the author shares with a certain group of people, people for whom this book is apparently written. It also indicates that this book is not for me, that it is intentionally exclusionary. Sure, I can read it, there's no harm there, but without the background ideology embedded in the author's worldview I won't really understand the book. Because it's written in code, a moral code, and I don't have the Rosetta Stone.

I'm not sure I want to. The conspiracy feels vaguely nefarious. But I do want to know to whom the author is speaking. I want to keep an eye on these folks. Exercise caution around them. They make me suspicious.

kids kross

My new thing. Mondays, when the weather is nice, around 4:00 pm behind James Burd Elementary.


Most of the ponytail posse was out this last Monday. And Jack. It was pretty sweet.

Kids love bikes.

get looow

I like this picture of Cadel's new ride (thanks Graham):


I like it because of the stem. Specifically, the stem angle. I like it because the stem is angled downward, which means that Mr. Evans likes to get low. Really low. The way it seems a bike racer should be riding his (or her) bike.

That's how I set up my bikes, anyway. Though I admit that this is due in part to what seems to be a manufactures' trend toward increasing the length of head tubes. My 58 cm Tarmac SL2, for instance, has what I would consider to be a ridiculously tall head tube (205 mm; compare that to the 170 mm head tube on a 56 cm frame). This requires an awkward compromise in my riding position--having to stretch out more horizontally, with a longer stem, to get my shoulders as low as they would be on my other bike, a Giant TCR, which has a shorter stem and a less aggressive stem angle. (I'd actually really like to try a size 56 Tarmac. My thinking is the front end would fit much better, but I'd be showing so much seat post that it might look a bit ridiculous.)

I say "awkward compromise," because I think I do prefer the TCR's geometry. It feels more...natural. Though my position on the Tarmac isn't exactly awkward. It feels good enough. Even after four or five hours in the saddle. (The relationship between bottom bracket and saddle position is the same on both bikes--I measure this stuff rather obsessively. The difference in position really comes down to where my hands are, which effects elbow and shoulder angle, but (hopefully) not my back.)

Anyway, I like to see Cadel dealing with a similar problem, even if on his bike if the head tube was much smaller it would nearly disappear.

...

In other (completely unrelated) news, I think this is interesting.

bca (hagerstown) cross

BCA Cross in Hagerstown will always hold a special place in my heart (but not because of my breast cancer, which I don't have). Because. Saturday, I commemorated the occassion by doubling up--the masters 3/4 at 10:00 am and the the masters 1/2/3 at 12:15. My first time in a masters cyclocross event.

The first race went well enough, I suppose.

Early in the first lap my chain bounced off during an exceptionally bumpy section. What follows is an approximation of my thoughts during those few seconds:

(1) Crap.

(1, cont.) I go to the single-ring crank to decrease complexity and now here I am--without a means (front deraileur) for getting my chain back on the ring.

(2) Maybe I should just drop out and save it all for the 1/2/3 event.

(3) That's lame. If someone else threw that on me as rationale for dropping out I'd think it was exceptionally lame.

(4) I don't have to tell them that's why I dropped out. I could mumble something about a puncture...

(5) Still lame.

(6) How am I going to stop here where it's all congested without getting ran over or cursed?

(7) Actually, this is a pretty good place to stop. There's no tape on the outside of this turn.

(8) Why is there no tape on the outside of this turn? Actually, there were sections of no tape earlier too. Did the promoters just run out of tape?

(9) How expensive can tape be?

(10) Where do you buy this tape, anyway? I can think of a few uses for it.

(11) But I wonder if you can reuse it. I wouldn't want to set up a practice course with tape if I couldn't easily reuse it.

** I turn to the guy next to me and mutter something about needing off the course.

(12) Wow, that guy was nice. He actually slowed down so I could get over.

(13) Would I do that if in his place? I probably don't want to answer that.

(14) Was it rude of me not to acknowledge his courtesy?

(15) Too late.

(16) Hmm... Would have a rider have been as courteous in the senior men's 3/4 field?

(17) Less likely.

** Now off my bike, I notice that the chain is only mostly dropped--it's still on the ring at the top, cradled gently between the outside and inside chainguards.

(18) Well, that sucks.

(19) It turns out I'm an idiot (now), because I was smart (then). Redemption for my design (I should have just soft-pedaled a bit and the chain would have come right back on), but boo for panicking and thinking I needed to stop.

(20) So why did I panic?

** On the bike again...

(21) Is it because I'm just a bad bike racer? Was I looking for an excuse to lose?

(22) You ask yourself that a lot, goat--whether you reacted a certain way because you're looking for an excuse not to win--is there something to that or do these things just really happen?

(23) I really ought to look into that. I've read so little sports psychology.

(24) But when. I'm so behind on everything already.

(25) And I'm always so tired. Whenever I have a free minute I just want to sleep.

(26) That better not be from a recurrence of Lyme disease.

(27) Nah, I likely would have had a fever or something.

(28) Well, that's what I tell myself, anyway. Better not to worry about it. There's enough to worry about.

(29) Time. Not only have I lost--how long was I stopped? fifteen seconds? it felt more like 30. probably just ten. maybe less. felt like more, though--now I'll have to waste time and energy getting around all these people that just passed me.

(30) But I love passing people, so there's that.

(31) These poor shleps. They should have just waited for me to get going again. Couldn't they tell when they passed me that I'm faster than them?

(32) Starting at the back of the pack might be more satisfying than starting at the front, because of all the passing.

(33) Hmm... Interesting question, would I rather start at the front and do little passing or start towards the back and do a lot?

(34) That's a dumb question. I just want to win.

(35) Or do I (see thought #22).

And that's bike racing.

...

I finished sixth (50+ starters). About a minute down on the winner, and just four seconds off the five-place podium (and four seconds out of the money). So close, but so far.

(My only photo from the
event. Oddly, I can't find
anything through the pipes.
There's usually so much.)

In the second race I was gassed. I was tired from the start, coming around the first corner dead last. Things improved after I got warmed up, for a while, but the last two laps I slowed down considerably. By the end, toast. The one steep hill...every time it struck me as increasingly improbable that I'd be able to get my sorry fat sack of bones over again. I finished 20th out of some 34 or 35 starters.

...

Audrey was my buddy for the day. She hung out during both races, spending time (1) riding her bike all over, (2) playing on the playground equipment, and (3) sitting on a park bench reading. The park bench time was during my second race, and the park bench was just off the course...so I got to see her cute little blond self sitting there each time around. I enjoyed that. A lot.

Love that little girl.

After my two events, Audrey lined up in the junior men's/women's 10-16 event. If you'd like to know, you'll have to ask her how it went.