The ride was nice as ever and the roadies were out in full force (which is to be expected), peddling diligently toward this quaint little riverside village near the Jersey border. There was a street fair happening on Broadway as we rode into town, so we dismounted and walked a block or two through it to the Runcible Spoon Bakery.
After scarfing an egg-salad wrap and a ham, cheese, and lettuce sandwich; I reclined in my seat, pondering whether the egg salad might have been better between the slices of rye that the ham and cheese came on and vice-versa.
After my compatriot finished eating we went outside to fill our bidons and free our bikes from the tangle of bikes on the rack that is so generously provided by the cafe for weary travellers and weekend warriors alike. I like this rack because it proves yet another unsurpassed efficiency that bikes have. In the photo linked above, you can't see the whole series of racks, but I assure you they occupy a space no longer than one car would use, and hold no less than 30 bikes during the busiest hours of the day.
Remarking at some of the fancier looking rides, my friend made the obvious but true observation that at a certain point, it all amounts to dick-measuring. Of course this can be said of anything with a subcultural following, though it is glaringly obvious in cycling and comprehension of it comes in waves of disturbing realization.
Earlier, when riding along the Hudson on a beautifully shaded drive up and down the palisades, I took note of a woman riding a Felt TT past us as we stopped to eat some fruit and take in our surroundings. My first reaction was one of awe and excitement, but that quickly reverted to my furrowed brow of cynicism as I pondered the necessity of a $6500.00 wonderbike on these roads. Certainly the only those who intend on racing in time trials or triathlons could feign need for equipment like this, right?
Even so, if one is out to 'train' on rolling hills, why ride a bike that is essentially useless on anything but the flattest, straightest roads? Being in a TT tuck position is inherently unsteady, as I showed in a recent KIRT post, and the nature of the route prevents one from attaining any appreciable speed where a TT bike would begin to show its usefulness. Furthermore, If you are pro, you likely have a multitude of bikes and are hopefully skilled at selecting the right bike for the right terrain.
This aero/carbon obsession also defies the conventional logic regarding training... Wouldn't it be smarter to train on a heavier bike that has few of the aerodynamic or material advantages of a TT rig? In my thinking, if I can grind up a climb on a 25lb bike, shouldn't I be able to conquer that same hill with much greater ease on a 15lb bike? "Training" on a bike like that will only plateau your fitness goals faster, so why do it?
The only reasonable explanation left to us is the ego massage... As I said before, it's all about dick measuring (which is funny, for one because the rider of the Felt was a woman; and two, she was slower than christmas on climbs); the attempt to impress ones peers with an assumed air of skill and mavenhood. Ironically, as with most subcultural trends, this backfires easily, rendering you a poseur, devoid of any credibility from the peers you so hope to impress, highlighting your hypocracy.
This is important because while other sports (skateboarding, for example) suffer from the same gear-obsessed affliction, none are as seemingly oblivious to the rediculousness of it all as cyclists. Bicycles we see today are as much a product of advancing technologies as they are resulting from clever ad campaigns and manufactured jealousy. Suddenly, the branding of your bike preempts your 'cred' amongst other roadies as does the 'colorway' of your handlebar tabe and tires.
I'm of the mind that equipment must be used to its limit to exact maximum efficiency from it. If you buy an ultra-stiff Roubaix with vibration dampers, you should take it to the cobbles in Soho, or go try to win some field sprints at the local criterium races. If you have a bike that has a really big front wheel and a really tiny rear wheel, are you prepared to don tweed knickers and coif your facial hair? Therefore, one must ask themselves when gazing at the motorcycle-priced carbon frames gleaming in your LBS's window display, "can I fully realize the potential of this bike?"
Speaking of realizing potentials, I missed both stages of the tour this weekend since I was busy critiquing people's logical missteps. I came home yesterday, sweaty and tired, only to find that el pistolero won the days stage in the tour.
Diatribes flow easily from my fingertips when writing about people like Alberto Contador, though that is not to say that I don't feel some amount of contrition for talking smack about talents I don't have and things I can't do.
The first of many things that annoy me about contador is the grossly unimaginative victory salute he does whenever he wins, which unfortunately for my aesthetic principles is a lot.
The Finger-gun? honestly? Why would you use the trademarked douche salute on purpose? perhaps it holds some meaning for Al here; it could signify his shooting down of his opponents, but perhaps he's more esoteric than I originally credited him for... Maybe it is intended to be a threatening gesture, meant to strike fear in the hearts of his opponents, lest they get in front of him and be finger-banged from behind. Then again, the most likely explanation is that Contador is one of those whiny people that yearns to be known by some witty nickname like all the other golden-boys of cycling, but noone came up with one for him so he makes up his own and starts telling people to call him that. Sorry dude, it doesn't work that way.
Lastly, Contador's puny bag-o-victory-salutes is contrasted by Mark Cavendish's extensive repertoire of salutes, from which a new one (as reported by BSNYC) will be drawn on the occasion of his 100th career victory (this is all hear-say as I've no hard evidence this is in fact the case, though I hope it is). Being an unbeatable sprinter I can only hope that day is not far off.
Remember, don't be a poseur... ride for your own reasons lest you earn the ire of Bernard Hinault.
No comments:
Post a Comment