I haven’t written in over a week now.  I admit I feel guilty about that – there was a time when I wrote the occasional interesting blurb in amongst an almost daily blather of today on my ride… One can only talk about the same 14 kilometers so many times.

Of cours of late, I’ve been entirely distracted – my wife might say obsessed – with riding the fantastic Ridley X-Fire I was lucky enough to have my friends help me acquire.  They spent their Friday night and all day Saturday on my scorching hot roof, re-shingling so I could afford to buy a new bike.  It is a direct result of their willingness to help me that I have this bike.  Each one of them is a participating member, nay, a founding member of our little ride-to-work clan.  I have great friends.

But the shoe – what about the shoe?  Well…if you follow cycling at all, then you probably know that today was the day that USADA dropped their Reasoned Decision on the UCI, this being the paperwork that outlines and supports their decision to sanction Saint Armstrong.  Following on the heels of this 1000+ page tome (the summary is 202 pages alone) were a flurry of pro riders confessing their involvement in doping, their deep regret and their wish for a clean sport for the up-and-coming riders.  They of course had no choice being their own affidavits detailing what they knew and why they knew it were included in the release.

My first reaction to seeing fan favourite George Hincapie’s sworn testimony that he and Lance used EPO and blood transfusions was congratulatory.  I was glad to see respected riders, a rider without an axe to grind or a grudge with Armstrong, tell the truth.  Not just his truth but a corroborating truth that fit with the other 10 former Armstrong teammates that have confessed.  The urge to put Hincapie, Leipheimer and the rest on a little pedestal was strong, pushed on by all of the “well done, we’re still you’re fans” tweets that flooded out in the aftermath.

But then…what about the clean-and-honest folks?  The ones who told the truth without being backed into a legal corner?  The ones who had everything to lose and nothing but a clean conscience to gain?  Greg Lemond challenged Armstrong in the middle of a press conference and Armstrong, using his cancer-shield, beat down Lemond in brutal fashion.  Hincapie, sitting beside Armstrong, said nothing.  In the end, Greg’s conviction cost him his company – Lemond Bikes – a joint venture with Trek.  Trek of course a sponsor of Armstrong’s…oh, and Armstrong as an owner of Trek let’s not forget.

And what about Frank and Betsy Andreu?  Present in a hospital room during a conversation with two doctors, they listened as Lance rattled off a list of performance-enhancing drugs he’d used pre-cancer diagnosis.  With no axe to grind, they kept the information largely to themselves until forced into testifying in the SCA case (in very short – the SCA was an insurance company obliged to pay Lance Armstrong $5mil for winning the 2005 Tour de France.  They tried to reneg saying he’d cheated to win.  Ultimately Lance won the case as there’d been no stipulation from SCA that he not use PEDs.  Interesting).  Once that happened, Armstrong went on a mission to discredit them, particularly Betsy – from petty name calling “ugly hag” to allegations of jealousy and on and on.

These were innocent people put in a position where they were obliged to tell the truth under oath and when they did, they suffered the wrath of the Lance machine.  Where’s their pedestals?  Where’s their kudos and support?  Why are people who kept silent, who watched Lance attack their former friends and teammates, who pocketed untold sums and made careers being hailed as brave heros over those lost their careers, had their names dragged through the mud and vilified by Armstrong’s army?

And what of those that, when faced with choice – dope or know you’ll never be competitive, never win, never achieve that glory – made the right choice and rode clean until the futility became too much and they retired.  Riders that may have become household names had the playing field been level.  Individuals – sons, brothers, fathers – who’s careers were demolished, earnings drastically reduced and opportunities stolen by a group of cheaters, led by a ruthless, domineering, multimillionaire capo.

Lance Armstrong is a thief, a thug and a bully.

That’s the only way to put it.  After weeks of waiting in anticipation for the arrival of my new Ridley X-Fire Disc, we finally got to meet.  The great staff at Ridley’s put it together and fit us up Tuesday evening but schedule and happenstance prevented us from being able to go for a getting to know you ride.  After a night of tossing and turning waiting for morning to arrive, we headed out into the inky darkness that has become my morning ride.

Unfamiliar with the SRAM controls, the CX geometry and new tires, I picked my way along the quiet streets, trying to keep a leash on things.  Within the first 2 minutes, the new performance was obvious.  I cautiously made my way under McKnight and the 32^nd Ave connector, eager to avoid any unexpected surprises in the dark and trying not to get carried away on the unfamiliar ride beneath me.  As I rounded the sub-station bend and attacked the short sharp hill in front of me, I failed to stifle the laughter that erupted from within.

The X-Fire nearly flew up the hill, my speed equivalent to that normally seen on the flats.  Push it, and it goes.  It gradually reduced my trepidation and before long I was over-driving (over-riding?) the little headlight and praying for sunrise.  Climbing velocity way up, effort down, reward up.  I’d been paranoid of the gearing since we started down this path, having not ridden CX or road-style gearing.  It’s considerably taller than the Rescue Bike but it just…flies up the grade.  Needlessly worried.

The ride home, with the benefit of daylight and dry roads, was equally rewarding.  Average speed up almost 20%, perceived exertion slightly lower, grin factor enormous.  I can’t express how pleased I am with this bike.

The X-Fire is from Belgium-based Ridley Bikes  – a leader in fast bikes of all kinds, particularly cyclocross.  Its carbon-fibre frame is, according to the sticker on the bottom, made in China – but we knew this already and it’s in good company.  Due to a quirk in import taxes, Canadian versions may or may not match “rest of the world” specs on any imported bike.  The most common route is to import the frames and components separately and turn them into bicycles in Canada.  The Ridley website lists them available with Shimano’s Ultegra or 105 group matched to an FSA Gossamer 46/36 crank while my X-Fire is equipped with an SRAM/Gossamer drivetrain.  This is my first experience with SRAM controls and the front shifter / derailleur and I have are in need of more time together but don’t let my lack of experience distract one from the beautiful performance of the system as a whole.  The 11-26 cassette is the tightest group I’ve ever ridden and despite my Clydesdale-based fears of walking it up hills, it performed better than I could have imagined.  I’m actually looking forward to doing more climbing with it.

The Ridley X-Fire Disc has exceeded my expectations at every turn and I’m looking forward to some long hours getting to know each other.  I love this bike already.

I stumbled across an interesting read courtesty of Bike Calgary (@bikecalgary) this morning.  It combines two of my favourite topics – cycling and psychology.  More specifically, why non-cycling drivers perceive cyclists as suicidal mayhem-makers.  My solution is to institute a mandatory cycling provision on your license that would require minimum mileage riding a bicycle before you could graduate from a Learners to an unrestricted license (and make them – drivers – into us – cyclists).  The cycling industry would gleefully support such a motion, perhaps some cautious support from the health industry too. We are unlikely to get the backing of the McDonald’s-munching, iPhone-texting, I’m-too-busy-for-that-crap general populace – in other words me two years ago though.  Whatever – I’m well off on a tangent with my outlandish schemes – ignore that, read the article and be a better person for it.

I’ve been hounding Ron at Ridley’s somewhat incessantly of late.  Unlike in my line of work, hounding the local bike shop and the happy souls trying to do their jobs will bend space and time, eliminating all of the supply chain logistical quirks of production and distribution.  No?  No.  It was worth a shot.  No?  No.  It kept me occupied.  Yes.  And Ron annoyed.  Yes.  When I queried him tonight on the schedule, he let it escape that my bike had finally hit the shop – yay! – but (wait, what do you mean but?) – but it was followed by a story that boiled down to “we had to close when the truck took out the pole and power to the entire block – Enmax optimistic but non-committal on the repair timeline”.

My first thought was he was pulling my leg, after all I’d harassed him about delivery enough.  Turnabout is fair play and all that.  Then he followed it up with this.

Hmmm…boss ain’t gonna be happy about this one…

That’s definitely a broken power pole in the alley.  What are you going to do except laugh?  Ah well – here’s hoping Enmax has no issues putting things right, Ron and his crew have the time after today’s interruption to get things into operation and I find the time to sneak away for some much-needed mental health.  That’s a lot of space-time convergence to just hope for.  Maybe there’s someone I can call about that? Repeatedly.