...a good day for a brewski

Since around 9000 BC, man (and occasionally woman) has imbibed himself with grain-based alcohols, arguably the most popular of which is beer. Being the third most popular drink in the world (behind water and tea, apparently), beers are numerous in kind and vary widely in flavor and content, yielding very specific tastes and preferences amongst those that enjoy the foamy beverage.

This was evidenced yesterday, when our man Bam shared a chat over a cold one with Henry Louis Gates Jr. and the Cambridge police officer that arrested him for disorderly conduct, Sargent James Crowley. Also in attendance was VP Joe Biden, but he had a non alcoholic brew (either he previously had problems with drinking, or he needed to drive somewhere later), so he can't really claim participation in the 'Beer Summit'.


Gates and Crowley were in good form, choosing Sam Adams Light and Blue Moon, respectively; though Obama once again donned his 'everyman' persona opting for Bud Light of all things... Biden drank an ironic brew called Bucklers.

I must tip my hat to Obama... It's no secret that I'm a fan of his, but a chat over a beer to cool the hot hearts of those at the center of a media-hyped 'controversy' on a beautiful summer evening seems to me to be a great way to make amends and quell animosities. I have rarely been in the mood to start shit with people while drinking beer, and can attest to it's friendliness-inducing nature.

Speaking of how yummy and awesome beer is, It is important to note how nutritious it is and its recognized usefulness to athletes; cyclists in particular. One 12 oz bottle of beer typically contains about 150 calories, 13 grams of carbohydrates, and a gram of protein. It's also is chock full of vitamins and minerals essential to bodies taxed by exercise, they include impressive amounts of B3 (niacin), and B9 (folate), to name a few, and being about 90% water, beer also makes it an excellent beverage for re-hydrating oneself after sweating profusely.

This interesting 1962 Tour de France documentary, forwarded to me by a reader, is testament to this. Note the "pub raids" about halfway through.



I wondered if the fans of a given cyclist would try to bar his rival from raiding their pub in hopes of giving their man a lead...

I really admire the cyclists who competed in the tour prior to the advent of race radios, team cars, air-conditioned lodging, and high tech sports drinks. It took true grit to complete the tour back then, and doping was done more so to dull the pain than it was to increase performance. In fact, it was a generally accepted fact that professional cyclists pulled a Tom Boonen every now and again to keep going under such strenuous conditions.

After I go riding tomorrow, I can guarantee I'll recuperate with a frosty friend or two... you should too!

...keepin it real Thursdays

As we all know by now (I hope), motorists in general have a distinct distaste for cyclists. In places like New York City, the reasons for this are more apparent than in other places. Cyclists make the inefficiencies of cars glaringly obvious to motorists, for instance, as they're stuck in a gridlock that bicycles can slip through like water through a sieve. Fortunately, in this city, if your rights as a cyclist are ever infringed upon, rest assured that there are certain cyclists around you that will exact swift retribution upon the offending car. It's a safety in numbers thing I suppose...

Other places around the country, the number and density of cyclists is much lower, making us vastly outnumbered by cars and trucks on many roadways; yet still, many drivers think it's amusing to taunt cyclists or intentionally press them into guardrails or off the shoulder. They view bicycles as an impediment to the free flow of traffic, since driving safely with a cyclist requires slightly more attention, which I've heard is in short supply these days.

By now, this is old news, but I'll repost it here for posterity. Earlier this week, in Asheville NC, a long-time firefighter for some reason became irate that a man, his wife, and their child were cycling on what the firefighter deemed to be an unsafe street for bikes. Apparently he stopped and started an argument with the father before pulling out a handgun and shooting him in the head! Luckily the bullet passed through his helmet and didn't touch his skull. This is the maniacal firefighter who it seems can't contain his hatred for "bad parenting". Please remember the time-honored tradition of throwing rotten fruits and vegetables at him if you ever have the opportunity.


(a little advice, don't read the comments on that article; they will only serve to aggrivate you in a way only backward thinking car-obsessed people can)

As always, while it seems things are going down the tubes for cyclists elsewhere, in NYC, cyclists rights are on the up-and-up! I've long been a fierce defendant of the bike lanes' boundaries and frequently take it upon myself to make drivers aware of their infringements, often at great risk to my own safety. Though as Gothamist has noted recently, the police are actually ticketing people for blocking bike lanes with their cars (and other things too, I hope)!!!! Personally, I feel rather vindicated by this news, and to be sure, I'll definitely point out offending motorists to any officers I pass (not that the officers themselves give a flying fuck about cyclists).


Other recent victories for cyclists here include the passing of a recent bill that allows bicycles into all buildings in NYC that boast freight elevators, in an effort to promote commuting by bicycle. Much to the chagrin of noted cycling crumudgeon, Mikael (of Copenhagenize and Copenhagen Cycle Chic fame), New York is slowly becoming one of the more bike-friendly megalopoli in this country. While I'm not sure if this bill will really encourage "tens of thousands of commuters to get on two wheels," as TA executive Director Paul Steely White claims; it sure is a step in the right direction.

Maybe one day my dream of a car-free manhattan will come true. Once we get off of this addiction to laziness and preoccupation with safety, I guarantee we will see a fitter, happier, and more prosperous US of A.

Perhaps transportation alternatives could start an automobile smear-campaign with images like these that the aforementioned Mikael designed (I believe they are his brainchild, anyway) to resemble the garish, large, and intentionally obtrusive warning labels found on packs of cigarettes.


I'm really enamored by the idea that perhaps in our warning-label-obsessed society, we can find room for one more, placed squarely on top of dashboards or as permanent, federally mandated bumper stickers, to deride drivers the same way we do smokers. Heck, maybe we could design some warning against the dangers of fatties too!

...Video Wednesdays

I'm in a pensive mood today, juggling work on two fronts while attempting to instigate a professional change-of-venue. I'm worried that getting away from the practice of architecture may be slightly damaging to my resume, however the employment I currently 'enjoy', leaves much to be desired on many levels, and gainful it is not.

With a little luck, I can segue my skills at spatial comprehension and the fine art of tinkering into a stint as a bicycle mechanic. Somehow I've got to logically weigh the pro's and con's of both moving away from the profession for which I was trained though am rather unhappy in, and transforming yet another hobby into a job, risking my lust for cycling.

I suppose that is the risk with every job; you can't do something you hate, but then again, if you love it too much, it will invariably end up offending your principles, causing you to become disillusioned and subsequently unpleasant to work with.

On the flip side, I can't help vain-glorious fantasies from clouding my judgment somewhat. When I dream of having a bicycle-centric job, it looks something like this:



Alas, I'm well aware that the reality is far from this idealized world of merino jerseys and syncopated arm-flailing. I have no delusions of grandeur (that my vast intelligence has made me aware of, anyway) about a job fixing and building bicycles, so I can only deduce that it must go something like this:



While I mull over the merits of such a selfless profession, I'll leave you with this video, which portrays my pensiveness about such a transition:



(As it happens, I once designed a laboratory for the mountain he's leaping off of, next to the Mardalsfossen, one of the highest waterfalls in europe.)

...the weekend madness (installment 6)

So continuing with coverage of this weekend's epic rides, Sunday saw the peloton roll through eastern Paris to the Place de la Concorde, Jardin des Tuileries, and the Avenue des Champs-Élysées for a rousing eight lap finish to this three week long bike race.


The final stage is more of an exhibition stage where the riders are all smiles and camaraderie, in stark contrasts to the days before when the rivalries reared their ugly heads. Take, for example Contador and team Astana having a toast of champagne as they rode into town:


I'm not sure if that's actually champagne or if its apple juice. Drinking alcohol while racing a bicycle (even on a not so 'important' stage like this) seems like a bad idea to me. however, apple juice and a slice of toast with some nice marmalade would be lovely in my opinion. I think they should have a toaster in the team cars that plugs into the cigarette lighter so that team coaches can keep their racers fed with warm and crispy snacks. And maybe some cheese too; Brie maybe?

Speaking of Brie, while the peloton zipped toward the center of Paris, they passed through a region called Île-de-France, a place fairly reeking of the eponymous spread. The announcers oddly chose this moment to comment on the first two Japanese riders to complete the tour (apparently there were a few other guys who rode it long ago, but didn't finish); Fumiyuki Beppu and Yukiya Arashiro.


Perhaps it was an veiled jab at asian people's prevalent lactose intolerance, though we can't let this distract us from the real issue here: Why is it that the tour de france is hugely dominated by riders from the USA, Australia, and European countries?

Lets take a look at the podiums after stage 21 for reference shall we? First we have the first second and third placed riders (Contador 1st, Schleck 2nd, and Armstrong 3rd):


From left to right we've got a Luxembourger, a Spaniard, and an American. Seems fairly white-washed doesn't it? Lets see who else got up there:


...ah, yes; Franco Pellizotti, an Italian (obviously), won the King of the Mountains. The leader for sprint points was Thor Hushovd, A Norwegian...


...and lastly we have none other than the 'Mark Cavendish, winner of the day's stage:


Of course the 'Dish is from Britain, another stronghold of white-ness.

Because I don't know of any theories generally accepted by race scholars to this effect; I can only surmise that the elite of competitive cycling are selected from the ranks of each nation's top cyclists, and as such confuses me how there are virtually no (for instance) black cyclists in the grand tours.

Using my semi-regular trips to do laps in Prospect and Central Parks as a litmus, I would gather that cycling is quite the multi-ethnic sport, considering the number of roadies one encounters of all shapes and colors.

I'm not sure where I'm going with this... I just thought it odd that, for instance, the great majority of the world's greatest foot racers are black guys and gals, though that experience with stamina and power output wouldn't segue into a sport such as cycling, where such talents are essential. The fact that the race announcers spent a good fifteen minutes marveling at the foreign-ness of Beppu and Arashiro both baffles and worries me. I'm a firm believer that in order to combat racism, one must simultaneously accept it and ignore it where appropriate (the opposite of what the announcers were doing).

Anyway the conclusion of the tour, as I noted earlier, was pretty uneventful. Cavendish's victory on the Champs-Élysées was not only forseen by everyone, but anticlimactic as he and his lead-out man, Mark Renshaw, obliterated the peloton in the last turn and flew across the line a full three bike lengths ahead of the next riders.


This enormous gap and preemtive victory salute reminds me of another recent display of masterful sprinting ability. Though 'Dish's salute wasn't perhaps as creative as his previously noted SSS, It was one of sheer happiness, which is always nice to see, no matter the color or accent of the grin.


This is the 'Dish's sixth win at the 96th tour, and the most tour victories of any briton ever... Brilliant riding by the man x missle. To win in Paris is the pinnacle of acheivement for sprinters the world over.

...the weekend madness (installment 5)

Boy was it a twirly-whirl of a weekend for me... A couple friends and I went for a ride up to Bear Mountain State Park on Saturday, and as promised, I managed to remember my camera.

I had opted to make it a century ride since Sunday morning saw the Tour de France end on the Champs Elysees in Paris, and I was damned if I was going to miss that. I figured there was no point to clenching my butt-cheeks in suspense on Saturday's stage 20 over Mt. Ventoux, so I did my own little mountain adventure in upper Rockland County instead.

First I found myself waiting to rendezvous with the other two at the foot of the Williamsburg Br once again...


While I was waiting and stretching, a group of over-the-hill gay dudes on fixed gear bikes started to conglomerate around me. I thought I had snapped a photo of them, but alas, I did not. They were great though, really nice guys who were doing a bicycle tour of LIC and Greenpoint art galleries. The ride leader, Gene, was super cool and we chatted about bikes while he unfurled his rainbow bike flag and lashed it to his seatpost.

Once underway, we rode up the WSH bike path to the GWB. Here's a snapshot I took of one of my buddies from behind my back. Self-composing shots like this are the best.



Across the Hudson there you can see the Palisades Cliffs starting. River Road (where we were headed next) is nestled in there somwhere, and it is without a doubt one of my favourite "natural rides" in close proximity to the city.

Somewhere River Rd. morphs into Alpine Approach rd. (Alpine NJ), and after a moderately steep climb that lasts exactly a mile, it passes by a 'police station' which is, in actuality, little more than a watering hole for weekend warriors going to Nyack and beyond.

I've never not seen at least one TT bike in the rack up there, and Saturday was no exception...


Oddly, the owner of that S-works TT bike was somehow leading a group of cyclists on 'regular road bikes' up through Piermont, NY. However, there were other bikes boasting greater utility for these roads at prices no less rediculous than that Specialized...


Now, this machine might actually help you climb a mountain. And with a price tag of $15,000.00 (incredible, I know) utterly shames the S-works with its elitism and rarity.

Riding along route 9W toward Piermont and Nyack, we encountered a group of 'bladers lounging on the shoulder, all clad in skin suits.


Chuckling to ourselves about the rediculousness of 'bladin', we rode on, passing under the Tappan Zee Bridge, just before entering Nyack once again...


We found ourselves at the Runcible Spoon Cafe, as usual, scarfing down only the most ironic of food stuffs. I'd mentioned earlier the beguling sandwich-making practices this cafe works with, though I opted for my usual as I do every time I find myself there.



Still Hungry after my lunch, I decided to test their desserts, finally deciding on the Cookie Monster Cupcake:


While the cupcake and cookie were both pretty good, they used far too much blue food coloring and even after washing my hands and face, I was still noticeably bluer than I should've been. Also, that cookie was a fucking tease. I was hoping to sop up some of the blue from my moustache with it, but quickly found out that there was not nearly enough cookie for such an endeavor. While some might call a half cookie a cute nod to Cookie Monster's love of cookies (as if the cupcake devoured the other half), I call it a clever cookie-saving technique.

Prepping for the second half of our ride (second quarter for me), I saw this funny bidon on the bike across from mine on the rack...


Then, leaving Nyack, we proceeded north on 9W which rolls up and down the edge of the Hudson until our destination. Being somewhat out of shape, one member of our crew kept dropping off and the other waited for him since they had more time to burn. I, on the other hand, needed to ride another eighty miles or so and decided to slog it along by myself. Two miles north of Nyack was the last time I saw those dudes, and rode (pretty much) alone for the whole rest of the way.

This is me looking back to see if I can spot them.


Nope, nothing... I soft-pedaled most of the rest of the way to Bear Mountain, thinking they would overtake me.

I stopped next to the entrance of this Quarry for a while, waiting, resting, and quelling any doubts I had as to whether or not I was "in the mountains" yet.


The rest of the ride was too beautiful to convey with pictures, suffice to say, I've never known natural splendor like the northeast in spring and summer. I know Seattle is up there but here it's really something else; every direction you look, your gaze is met with abounding verdant landscapes fit for painting.

I finally reach Bear Mountain State Park:


...and climb...


...and climbed some more until I reached the top, where I gazed at the vista through a veritable sea of asian tourists, motorcyclists, and backpackers.


Growing weary of the traffic at the summit, I gathered my things and rode back down the mountain. This was by far my favorite part of the whole trip. The two lane road was an asphalt ribbon, beautifully maintained and never so steep as to throw me into a speed wobble.


I slid easily down, past lush flora and bounding fauna, back to the park's entrance where I was hoping to find my friends.

Alas, they had gone part way up and turned off the main road and I bypassed them in my descent. After a conciliatory phone call, I headed back to the city on my own, second-guessing my decision to do over a hundred miles in one shot.

A very nice roadie pulled up next to me about a mile or so later and we paced back toward Nyack (actually, he did most of the pace-setting, I just sucked his wheel most of the way). Knowing I was slowing him down, I told him to feel free to drop me because I was really tired and in no shape to keep up rolling turns at 25mph. He gave me a few powergels, some candy bars, and a block of powdered stuff (get your mind outta the gutter) that turns water into gatorade. I had no idea where he had stashed all of this food but I was certainly grateful for it.

The rest of the ride back was pretty much the same as the first leg, though in reverse. It was uneventful save for two things: Instead of stopping in Nyack, I got a bite to eat and some fluids at a shop in Piermont, which is a quaint little river-side village just south of Nyack. Apparently I was the last cyclist passing through for the night as evidenced by the empty bike racks...


Then, after riding on for some 500 feet or so, I flipped through my new cyclocomputer to check my mileage and stuff. Finding the odometer at 333.2 miles, I knew the auspicious 333.3 mark was only a few feet ahead of me so I schluffed along until it rolled over and snapped a quick photo.


After narrowly avoiding being rained on a few times, I finally made it back into manhattan tired, sweaty and drained.

All in all, by the time I made it to my doorstep in Brooklyn, I put 125.4 miles on my bike and had a max speed of 39.4mph (not counting the 46 something mph that put me in such a bad speed wobble I nearly got tossed off).

Now my legs are fried like the chicken at mitchell's though I can't wait to 'slay' another century-and-a-quarter.

Look forward to in-depth coverage of the tour's final day on the Champs Elysees, coming soon (this evening or tomorrow). 'Til then, ride safe... it's still early in the week.