One of the many disadvantages of being a female cyclist is that there is rarely any TV coverage of women’s pro races. And by “rarely any TV coverage,” I mean that even videotaped-off-a-TV-screen-by-a-digital-camera coverage of the women’s TdF is impossible to get a hold of. Reading up on what happened after the fact is the most one can usually do.
As most of the country gets ready to engage in the national past time of consuming bucketfuls of cheese puffs while screaming at a giant flat-screen TV, I am reminded of how much I have...grown.
Not that I wouldn't stuff my face full of greasy wings, limp celery sticks with ranch dressing, piles of tepid pizza, and kegs of cheap but cold beer if given an excuse to do so. But then I'd have to compensate for that weight gain on my steel frame by not ever carrying water bottles. Which normally wouldn't be a problem, because I have a personal cadre of domestiques, but sometimes you just want the option of riding your bike alone, you know?
Anyway, because jerseys should be close-fitting and because I wish my shoulders were narrower to reduce wind drag, I'm kind of excited that, on Friday night, Mike and a bunch of guys with ampersands between their names are holding a screening of supposedly one of the best stages of the 2010 Giro. According to inside sources, many dudes who look like they can fit their entire body into the pant leg of your average NFLer will be in attendance!
I DIDN'T THINK SO.
BE THERE.
Friday, Feb 4 @7pm at:
The Glass Shop
766 Classon Ave
Brooklyn
[And yes, I was totally kidding about Lance.]
With the SI article on Lance [nothing new, as most of us found out after reading all 5 pages of it], rumors that Lance might not be able to get out of this one, and blogs almost as influential as mine, like Cyclocosm, commenting on the issue, I figured it was only my duty to add my two cents. I had it all planned out, coming up with sentences like, “it is precisely because sports are not a matter of life and death that there is a need to play fair. To uphold a sense of sportsmanship and moral integrity that we expect of athletes, those who cycle out the purest and perhaps even the most childish of our dreams.”
Yeah, I came up with all that. I actively engaged in coherent sentence generation, mostly while in the shower, which means serious business.
The thing is, anything I say has already been said before, most likely by those more in the know or just more competent at putting together sentences. Such as, with regards to Floyd’s sudden flip-flopping, my favorite Canadian rapper, Snow:
The last verse seems particularly applicable. Although, I guess Floyd already “turn[ed] informer.” Still, I have a soft spot for guys that are into bikes and look like hobbits, so I'm going to let great music speak for Floyd's feelings. Word?
WORD!
The sky has been dumping snow for most of this week, making life somewhat miserable and prone to cabin fever.
If you're in NYC this weekend though, there are a couple of reasons to get your ass out of bed early. NYC Velo is holding a viewing party for the Cyclocross World Championships on Sunday morning. If the cyclocross isn't enough incentive, well, there's always the promise of muffins and coffee [and who can't use a good cup of coffee at 8.00 in the morning?] and some cool peeps to hang out with.
Unfortunately I won't be there [thus diminishing the cool factor, I know] but every viewing party I've been to at Velo has been awesome. So, go, have fun, make new friends. It might be ass-early in the morning, but I guarantee you'll forget about the miserable weather.
Sometimes I think I deliberately try to make life more difficult for myself.
Like how I am currently stuck in Albany, NY, in a hotel with no room service. It wasn’t as if I didn’t know that universal rule that a hotel located in a not so urban area, no matter how many amenities it may offer, will always make you feel more helpless than it really has a right to. I simply chose not to ask a stupid question [“do you guys have room service?”] and am being punished for it as a result [I am starving]. No, it’s not like I lost my will to stand and walk around - although more than 24 hours in Albany might have that effect on some - but it’s sleeting out. Sleeting or icy raining or wintry mixing. Basically, miserable is coming out of the sky and walking on the sidewalk is like wading through a giant frappucino.
And I don’t have my bike. Not that I would ride it on roads that are starting to look like rivers of slushy diarrhea, but because - as the saying goes - when the going gets fucking icy out, the real roadies try to figure out the fastest way to make themselves puke while riding the rollers indoors.
A seasonal rite of passage where contrition for even considering participating in cross season is exhibited in the form of intervals, a bludgening market for trainer DVDs has emerged in the past few years that seems as varigated as porn. And with titles like, “Spinervals Fitness 2.0, Sweating Buckets,” and “Mindy Mylrea: Super Cycle: The Best Ride in Town,” the similarities between the porn business and the sweating on your bike business might not be so few and far between. It might be slightly awkward to watch at times [“what exactly are they....that can’t be real...am I actually supposed to want to do that?”], but how terrible could a training video be?
With that thought in mind, and a preference that is more Suicide Girls than Chasey Lain, I invested $10.99 of my hard-earned money to purchase Revolver, a video by the newest trainer video producer on the scene, Sufferfest. Available immediately for download, I was on my bike and rolling through a ride within 20 minutes of hitting “Buy Now.” And since that moment, I have been hooked. Like turning that shit on and riding until my legs shake, four days out seven, hooked. Hitting “play,” to a soundtrack that I now associate with suffering at a perceived rate of exertion of 10/10 in one minute intervals, for thirty goddamn minutes, I first follow a bunch of guys on a brisk ride, before heading vicariously to the Manchester velodrome for the Madison event, then onto the U-23 World Champs, the UCI Cyclocross World Champs, and wrap it up [my favorite part] with Tatiana Guderzo and the ladies. It’s excruciatingly hard - the first time I did it, I wanted to weep, then pass out in a puddle of my own puke - but it’s equally addictive: Revolver has become the perfect 45 minute escape from the snowy shitfest that is Boston.
This could be all because, like I said, I might enjoy making my life more difficult than it should be. Of course, it wasn’t enough for me to just schedule in a few Sufferfest sessions into my week. I had to do it on rollers, thereby forcing myself to sit through the sprints and savor the sensations of my ass falling off while I was at it. But like any cyclist - from seasoned pro to newbie amateur - will tell you, that feeling of despair and complete destruction after a hard workout can’t be beat. And when you don’t have 2+ hours, or daylight in which to ride, Sufferfest will deliver, kicking your ass good and proper so you can keep up with your crew, or at least feel like less of a lazy waste of space.
I can’t say I’m putting out 6000 watts yet, but I am working my way up to Sufferfest’s newest, Local Hero, which clocks in at 85 minutes of pain, intervals included.
God, I can’t wait.
I rode...
Made a new friend [an 11 month old Great Dane named Juno]...
And showered [very Terry Richardson/American Apparel photo, no?] at NYC Velo...
Hopefully more of the same in a few days...
