New Shoes!

I’ve been saving an Amazon gift card “for the right time” thinking I was going to put it towards some Garmin gear when I had some more disposable funds available.  On the other hand, one of my weak-points is books – I love to read technically oriented books.  Yesterday I felt like spending those cards, Garmin or no Garmin.

I clicked over to Amazon and started checking out the latest books on neuroplasticity – a favourite topic – yet somehow managed to find myself checking out a pair of Pearl iZumi mountain bike shoes.  I’ve been waiting to change up to clipless, eager to experience the benefits of having the “pull” portion of the pedal cycle available.  Like the Garmin gear however, I’ve been too cheap to pony up enough dough to get me started.  Call me cheap, I don’t mind.

The shoes I found – PI’s new All Road shoes with recessed cleats were on sale for a paltry $64.  They have great reviews and PI stuff seems to get good reviews for fit all over the place so I set about placing an order.  Not being overly familiar with Euro style shoes sizes, I looked up the conversion on Wikipedia (foreshadowing).   3/2 * (foot length in CM + 1.5) for those interested…though it comes out on the small side.  Measured once.  Measured twice.  Measured a third time.  Ordered a 44 thinking a little on the large side is better than too small.  Paid for the 6-10 day shipping option and found them waiting for me when I got home today.  How cool is that?

All-Roads

Excited to have new clipless shoes in-hand, I opened the box and knew immediately there was going to be a problem.  They looked too small.  You know, if you’re looking at a pair of shoes and your noggin says “nope, too small”, they’re clearly too small.  I put them on anyway in a vain attempt to defy the mathematics of geometry only to learn that math does not bend rules no matter how much you’d like to keep your new shoes.  Not just small but barely get your feet in too small.  No way could I find a way to ride in them short of trimming off some excess toe length but that’s a body modification I’m not into.

So I boxed them back up and set about exchanging them with Amazon.  No dice – no exchange program available for these shoes apparently – refund only.  They politely offered to pay for the return shipping, ostensibly because they didn’t have an exchange program.  Not ideal but not too bad.

After dealing with the return process, I set about ordering the proper size and the first thing I noted was the $12 increase in price.  Seems Amazon didn’t have my size, but one of their retailers did for a fee.  I looked at the original size and Amazon themselves had upped the price overnight from $64 to $72.

So now I’m on the fence.  Not sure whether to spend the additional $12 and another round of freight ($10).  True – it’s cheaper than the $125 price listed for a local Calgary reseller but I just can’t see paying $40 over Pearl’s list price just to support local.  I’d prefer to buy local but not at an almost 50% premium.

So now we’re back to looking at more books.  Or maybe some pedals

He Blinded me with Science

I no longer look at the weather before I head out. I know it’s cold – that’s a given – I won’t be too hot wearing my stretchy pants. Don’t need to carry my shorts for the warm ride home because there isn’t going to be one. It’s going to be windy, likely a crosswind in the morning with a head/crosswind on the ride home. The wind will be okay in the morning and anywhere from annoying to hurricane level in the evening when all I want to do is get home and relax. I know all of this in the back of my mind, yet when confronted with it as I stare into my iOraclephone first thing in the morning, it can be enough to send me out on four wheels. If I’m going to continue to ride this winter, it’s best I don’t know just how bad it’s going to be. Which reminds me, I’m might need snow tires soon.

When I started writing, it was ostensibly because I wanted to pass on my newbie experiences to the next budding Fredcyclist. The idea being I could answer some of those new-rider questions not with any authority, just the results of my own trial and error methods. It’s veered away from that and into a blather of this is what happened on my little commute today and that’s boring. Part of that detour off course is a result of this: I’m at a post-newb plateau.  I’ve learned the easiest stuff…maybe?

I’m not smart or learned by any means. My authority on matters cycling comprises the following nuggets: don’t pedal while leaning hard unless you enjoy pavement-surfing with your flesh; make sure you have air in your tires; ride as often as possible. On the other hand, here’s what I’ve learned:

• Yes, you do want stretchy pants with a chamois if you ride any distance unless you like friction burns on your most sensitive areas.
• “Slicks” or street tires on your mountain bike are definitely smoother and quieter but they were not the limiting factor in my quest for speed. The factor turned out to be me.
• Lube your chain or the squeaking and squawking will make you even more insane.
• Tires don’t hold air indefinitely – my 80psi slicks drop to 40 over a couple of weeks but make for a handy lie excuse reason you can tell yourself when you get Chicked.
• There may not be any car traffic on the bike paths, but a rear light will keep the rest of us from running you over in the dark because we are riding with
• The 3-LED headlight from MEC – makes an excellent targeting device for on-coming cars and may keep other riders from clipping you in the dark. Also serves as an excellent defense against establishing effective night-vision while simultaneously completely failing to illuminate anything far enough away to still avoid. Note to the city of Calgary – if you really loved cyclists, you’d fluoresce the yellow stripe in the middle of the path.
• If you insist on using a 1 million candle power strobe-light on your helmet while riding on the darkened bicycle path, I reserve the right to push you into the canal while claiming disorientation and blindness thanks to your head-mounted smugness device. Save it for the road where it’ll flash in everyone’s mirror after they’ve passed you and are no longer in a position to nudge you with a bumper.
• The colder it gets, the slower I go. I blame the increased air density and layers of clothing. It has nothing to do with laziness.

It was most definitely this increase in clothing layers and air density that turned me from rabbit to rabbit-chaser this morning. As is typical of my rides these days most of the path traffic is on-coming, which is good because my MEC night-vision-disruption light which as the name implies handily keeps my eyes from adjusting on the darkest sections of the path, combined with riding sans prescription glasses means I’m essentially navigating to work by muscle memory and feel. When I was kid with a big-block drum-brake hotrod, I learned all about over-driving your brakes – travelling faster than your brakes could stop you. I’m now over-driving my eyesight as, even at my reduced winter speed, there is little chance I will be able to avoid an unexpected obstacle.

Anyway – back to the engrossing tales of What I did on my commute this morning. I was passed, unexpectedly and totally off-guard by a high-cadence-pedaling rider whom I’ve seen once or twice before. My first instinct was to ignore the obvious Cat 6 race we were now in and continue as I was but as Dwernie noted last week it is not possible to simply ignore this challenge. I gave chase and didn’t lose any further ground until we got to the pedestrian bridge. I managed to maintain some semblance of speed but failed to stand and hammer when he did (note to self – stand and hammer is appropriate when in Cat 6 mode). By the time I’d reached the end of the bridge, he’d almost disappeared and our diverging routes put an end to the match. I was however given a small reward as I wound under 17th Ave and tried to run over a flagging rider making the climb up to 26th. I allowed myself a small degree of pride as I pedaled past him and he got off to start pushing. “At least I’m not pushing” I thought as I wobbled up the slope.

In recognition of the Cyclist’s Imperative to Chase Rabbits, I wish to congratulate Dwernie on his first blood. A successful pass and defense of position – job well done!  Way to represent Canadian Cat 6 riders abroad.

Dwernie

Ouch!

Mornings have been…brisk.  Well below freezing this week and if I thought it was challenging to ride at 5 above, it’s considerably more so at 7 below.  I still manage to work up a sweat which is mildly concerning from a what-if-I-break-down-and-freeze-to-death perspective – clearly haven’t figured out the layers yet.  So much simpler to ride in Calgary summers.

The comments (and readership if I’m honest) here are pretty slim.  I know most all of my regulars in the real world (and thank you for your continued patronage).  Even my international readership was quickly traced to my travelling family (thanks for reading while in Italy guys!).  I do however get a whack of hits thanks to this photo.  Rasmussen.  I ripped it from the web and posted it up while snidely remarking that I’d rather not be a cyclist if this is what they look like.  Well Mr. Rasmussen the Pro Cyclist gets lots of hits from people looking for what I assume to be real information, so they land here, curse the site for misleading them and leave pretty much immediately.

Waiting for first-time-comment moderation (a policy introduced thanks to the voluminous spam this blog attracts) was a legitimate comment from some poor schlep who landed here searching for Rasmussen.  I skimmed it quickly, finger already on the mark-as-spam button when something caught my attention.  It lacked the usual content “ Your blogging is best I have read.  You have many expertise on this subject and I will come to here much often!” signed by triple X email address.  Sure.  Anyway – I opened my eyes a little further and re-read it, still mostly asleep.  I caught “oh my god”, “look” and “Rasmussen” and I said to no one in particular – I know – how translucent can a guy be?  I patted myself on the back for garnering a comment from some random interweber all the way from the fatherland of pretzels and giant beer steins.  A smile slowly crept across my sleepy face as my finger headed for the “oh yes, definitely approved” button as I read it one more time.

A new comment on About is waiting for moderation:
Author: Silk
Oh My God.
I’d rather look like Rasmussen.

Oh…ouch.  That’s a hurricane hook kick to the ego.  The comment was posted to this picture of yours truly.

Now I know it excels in its dorktastic Fredulence.  I was told I looked like a mall cop before I posted it.  It’s intentionally ridiculous but it’s still me.

The comment stung because the author highlighted my dig at Rasmussen.  What I did was steal a picture of a real individual, post it on my blog, then mock his appearance. Seems fair to have my picture mocked as well.  It wasn’t particularly nice of me and frankly I didn’t give a moment’s thought about the individual in the picture.

But then this is the internet where nobody is safe from ridicule and ripping, and worse yet, I’ma  true fred banging on a legitimate, prize-winning pro cyclist.  Who am I to mock his glow-in-the-dark pastiness or his Buchewaldian physique?  I’m sorryish.  Almost.

What’s the difference between a doping cyclist and a doping bodybuilding?  One dopes to be strong with the least amount of mass possible, the other dopes in pursuit of the greatest mass, and volume, they can afford.  Otherwise both compete in sports that, apart from massaging the competitive drive in its participants and the wallets of sponsors, do nothing.  Both are clearly obsessed.

We think nothing of snickering at the “elite” bodybuilder who looks like a circus freak because they’re so extreme, so far outside of normal as to be cartoonish.

Markus Ruehl - freakishly big

So is Rasmussen.

Extreme

His single-minded pursuit of pro-cycling excellence leaves him looking like a caricature.  I’d even been advised that “that picture of Rasmussen on your blog – it’s going to drive people away.  You should warn your readers that it’s there”.

So does being outside the norm – and just what is norm anyway  – mean you’re a fair target for unflattering commentary?  Everyone or just some people?  Celebrities?  Unknown, nobody bloggers?  I’m not sure I know how to draw the line.  As a parent I don’t want people making my kids feel bad about their looks – there’s an entire cosmetics and fashion industry that can do that thanks – and it would be unconscionable to poke at someone else’s.  What about strangers?  Friends?  Family?  I’m thinking the last two are clear “yes” answers.  If I can’t rib my own friends and family, how will they know they’re in the cool group? I don’t know.

At any rate,  I can take my dorkinian helmet with its nü-rider accessory mirror off, put it on the shelf and become an average, anonymous, polite and apologetic Canadian and I’m pretty happy with that. Besides, Best Wife will take me even with the nerd-pot strapped to my head and she’s the only one I need to impress.