...a 10 mile downhill on a bicycle at 25+ MPH.
That is all.
Saturday, April 24, 2010
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
It's Amazing the New Things...
...I keep learning about LA.
How many of you LA peeps actually know that you can ride your bike (or run, I suppose) all the way from Azusa to Seal Beach without taking any surface streets? Or from El Monte to Long Beach without worrying about getting hit by a car? That’s right! The San Gabriel River Trail and the Los Angeles River/Rio Hondo Trail pretty much allows cyclists to ride North-South across LA entirely on dedicated bike paths. Pretty cool, huh?
Never heard of these trails? You've probably at least seen the LA River in the movies. The drag race scene from Grease and the chase scene from Terminator 2 were both filmed at the LA River. And yes, I know that to call this concrete monstrosity a “river” is like calling the Epcot China Pavilion "China". But in its defense, water *does* run through it. Most of the time.
Best of all, aside from the occasional underpasses, both of these trails are flat as a table. There are tons of places where you can hop on, so you can make your ride to the beach as long or as short as you want. Most of you triathletes already know that these are great trails to practice time trialing too. You’ll still have to watch out for the occasional unleashed dog or kid though. Heh.
What better way to spend a Saturday or Sunday morning than to ride down to Long Beach, have brunch, and ride back? Fun!
http://www.labikepaths.com/
How many of you LA peeps actually know that you can ride your bike (or run, I suppose) all the way from Azusa to Seal Beach without taking any surface streets? Or from El Monte to Long Beach without worrying about getting hit by a car? That’s right! The San Gabriel River Trail and the Los Angeles River/Rio Hondo Trail pretty much allows cyclists to ride North-South across LA entirely on dedicated bike paths. Pretty cool, huh?
Never heard of these trails? You've probably at least seen the LA River in the movies. The drag race scene from Grease and the chase scene from Terminator 2 were both filmed at the LA River. And yes, I know that to call this concrete monstrosity a “river” is like calling the Epcot China Pavilion "China". But in its defense, water *does* run through it. Most of the time.
Best of all, aside from the occasional underpasses, both of these trails are flat as a table. There are tons of places where you can hop on, so you can make your ride to the beach as long or as short as you want. Most of you triathletes already know that these are great trails to practice time trialing too. You’ll still have to watch out for the occasional unleashed dog or kid though. Heh.
What better way to spend a Saturday or Sunday morning than to ride down to Long Beach, have brunch, and ride back? Fun!
http://www.labikepaths.com/
Monday, April 5, 2010
A Day in the Life of a (very) Slow Triathete
This isn’t going to be your typical race report. If it was, you’d read about how early the day started (3am), how cold the water was (it wasn’t), how hilly the bike course was (pretty damn), and why I “ran” a dismal 3:07 half marathon (cramps). You might even read about how much I cared about placing 312 out of 314 guys in my age group (Didn’t. But what on earth were those other two schmucks doing?! Really. Lol!)
Instead, I want to give you some insight into what I think about when plugging along in an HIM. For someone as slow as me, that's a lot of thinking. So here are...
Stephen's Top 20 Thoughts at Oceanside 70.3
Look at all these bikes!
A veritable sea of over 2000 very expensive bicycles, all racked up and ready to roll. Imagine a parking lot full of Ferraris. That’s pretty much what I saw in my mind. Imagine my Corvette parked alongside all these Ferraris. No shame in driving a Corvette. It’s a fast car. But it’s no Ferrari. Then again, it’s not about the bike, is it?
These are my peoples!
It’s the same feeling you get at the start of a marathon, at a salsa congress, dance convention, ComicCon, E3, or anywhere else where you’re sharing your love for something with thousands of other people like you. At 5 in the morning. You just feel at home.
Allll riiight!
You can’t help but feel a tiny bit more badass after you get bodymarked. Having been on both sides of the pen as a volunteer and an athlete, I can tell you that one of the highlights of many an athlete’s day is getting their bib number written down their arm in permanent marker. In its own little way, bodymarking legitimizes your claim to race day.
Interesting. She’s X?
Happened many times that morning. In addition to getting your bib number written on your arm, you also get your age written on your calf. They do this so that during the race, it’s easier to tell who you’re racing against. The top finishers in each age group receive prizes and a spot in the championship race later in the year. Nowhere else in the real world can I find out how old somebody is just by looking at their leg. It’s like one of the grand little mysteries of everyday life is suddenly revealed for one glorious day.
I feel like a sausage.
Everytime I squeeze into that wetsuit. Time to lose some weight!
Holy Crap! They're done already?!
The pro men wave started the swim at 6:40am. My wave started at 7:07. We were right about to enter the water when the first pros were exiting. 22 minutes to swim 1.2 miles. Amazing.
Dammit. Where's the next buoy?!
I had this thought many many times during the swim. For a while there, you swim right into the sun, so it was next to impossible to see where you're supposed to go. I ended up getting so discombobulated that I didn't even realize that I had already reached the turn around point and started swimming back. I kept thinking, Jeez, how long is this swim. Then I finally see the transition area and realize that I'm almost done. Sweet!
I wonder how much salt water I have to drink before I start throwing up?
This thought came to mind every time I swallowed another gulp of salt water from an errant wave.
I wish I could pee.
Some people are able to pee in their wetsuits while swimming. I'm not some people. This will end up costing me a couple minutes.
That's gonna leave a mark.
Apparently, I didn't apply enough body glide because my wetsuit kept chaffing at the back of my neck. Ouch.
Haha! All the bikes are gone!
When your bike is the only one left in a 30 feet radius, you know you're a bad swimmer.
Keep spinning. Head down. Just keep spinning.
This was the mantra I kept repeating over and over as I made my way through the hilly second half of the bike course. I decided not to even look up anymore because it’s kind of overwhelming to keep being reminded of how much more hill you need to climb. It was easier for me to just look 3 feet ahead of me and compartmentalize. Just one more revolution. It'll end when it ends. (In the interest of full disclosure, the hills prolly weren’t that bad--for someone who actually rode their bike more than 4 times in the 2 months prior to the race. Ahem.)
I’m F-ing riding up, dammit.
When you’re out of shape and climbing a hill like that, little voices whisper to you constantly. "Why kill yourself Steve? Just walk it. Get off and walk it. Waaalk it. Don’t you want to walk it? There’s no shame in that. See, all those other people are walking. People with better bikes than you. C’mon! Just walk up the hill, man." That’s when you need to shout them all down. NO!! F U ALL, I'M RIDING IT!! Head down. Keep spinning.
I wonder if I can clip out in time?
At certain points I was going so slow up the hill, the thought entered my mind that this could end badly. Like what if I cramp up and physically can’t spin anymore? Seeing as how the only thing keeping the bike upright on the hill was its forward momentum which would stop as soon as I stopped pedaling, I wasn’t even sure if I could unclip my shoe from the pedal before the bike toppled over with me on it. That would have been embarrassing.
I should have practiced this more.
It’s easy to open up an energy bar or a sandwich wrapping when you’re stopped at a stoplight with both hands free. It’s not as easy when you’re trying to do the same with your teeth and your one free hand, going at 20 miles an hour. Since the bike is where athletes take in most of their calories, it’s rather important know how to do the little things like opening up food packages easily.
F this. This is BS. No F-ing way I’m riding 112 miles on this thing.
Don’t get me wrong. I love my road bike, but after a mile swim and maybe 30 miles on the bike, your arms, shoulders, neck, and wrists get sooo tired from supporting your upper body. The last 26 miles were painful. I couldn't fathom riding double this distance at IM Arizona on the same bike. I decided right then and there to buy a triathlon bike. :)
California girls. God bless ‘em!
Half of the run course was right along the beach. The bikinis were out in full force that day. Loved. It.
I can’t believe I signed up for double this distance. Crap.
With my quads and calves misfiring, stomach hungry, blisters forming, and the big toe hurting in a disturbingly novel way, the idea of running a marathon after a 112 mile bike ride seemed like pure madness. Still does.
Get me electrolytes!
I don't claim to know much about how the human body works, but the hiker in me has always equated muscle cramps with electrolyte deficiency. So every mile on the run, I dutifully gulped down Gatorade and bananas in the hopes of staying ahead of my cramps.
Just make sure you make the cutoff.
This was my overwhelming thought during the run. I was so friggen slow that I was in danger of not finishing by the course cutoff time of 9 hours. The little voices finally won and I had already resigned myself to run/walking the half marathon, so I was constantly checking my watch and doing math in my head, just to make sure that however much I walked, I was still going to come in on time.
Final Times:
Swim 1:13
Bike 3:49
Run 3:07
Total 8:24
Instead, I want to give you some insight into what I think about when plugging along in an HIM. For someone as slow as me, that's a lot of thinking. So here are...
Stephen's Top 20 Thoughts at Oceanside 70.3
Look at all these bikes!
A veritable sea of over 2000 very expensive bicycles, all racked up and ready to roll. Imagine a parking lot full of Ferraris. That’s pretty much what I saw in my mind. Imagine my Corvette parked alongside all these Ferraris. No shame in driving a Corvette. It’s a fast car. But it’s no Ferrari. Then again, it’s not about the bike, is it?
These are my peoples!
It’s the same feeling you get at the start of a marathon, at a salsa congress, dance convention, ComicCon, E3, or anywhere else where you’re sharing your love for something with thousands of other people like you. At 5 in the morning. You just feel at home.
Allll riiight!
You can’t help but feel a tiny bit more badass after you get bodymarked. Having been on both sides of the pen as a volunteer and an athlete, I can tell you that one of the highlights of many an athlete’s day is getting their bib number written down their arm in permanent marker. In its own little way, bodymarking legitimizes your claim to race day.
Interesting. She’s X?
Happened many times that morning. In addition to getting your bib number written on your arm, you also get your age written on your calf. They do this so that during the race, it’s easier to tell who you’re racing against. The top finishers in each age group receive prizes and a spot in the championship race later in the year. Nowhere else in the real world can I find out how old somebody is just by looking at their leg. It’s like one of the grand little mysteries of everyday life is suddenly revealed for one glorious day.
I feel like a sausage.
Everytime I squeeze into that wetsuit. Time to lose some weight!
Holy Crap! They're done already?!
The pro men wave started the swim at 6:40am. My wave started at 7:07. We were right about to enter the water when the first pros were exiting. 22 minutes to swim 1.2 miles. Amazing.
Dammit. Where's the next buoy?!
I had this thought many many times during the swim. For a while there, you swim right into the sun, so it was next to impossible to see where you're supposed to go. I ended up getting so discombobulated that I didn't even realize that I had already reached the turn around point and started swimming back. I kept thinking, Jeez, how long is this swim. Then I finally see the transition area and realize that I'm almost done. Sweet!
I wonder how much salt water I have to drink before I start throwing up?
This thought came to mind every time I swallowed another gulp of salt water from an errant wave.
I wish I could pee.
Some people are able to pee in their wetsuits while swimming. I'm not some people. This will end up costing me a couple minutes.
That's gonna leave a mark.
Apparently, I didn't apply enough body glide because my wetsuit kept chaffing at the back of my neck. Ouch.
Haha! All the bikes are gone!
When your bike is the only one left in a 30 feet radius, you know you're a bad swimmer.
Keep spinning. Head down. Just keep spinning.
This was the mantra I kept repeating over and over as I made my way through the hilly second half of the bike course. I decided not to even look up anymore because it’s kind of overwhelming to keep being reminded of how much more hill you need to climb. It was easier for me to just look 3 feet ahead of me and compartmentalize. Just one more revolution. It'll end when it ends. (In the interest of full disclosure, the hills prolly weren’t that bad--for someone who actually rode their bike more than 4 times in the 2 months prior to the race. Ahem.)
The bike course profile.
I’m F-ing riding up, dammit.
When you’re out of shape and climbing a hill like that, little voices whisper to you constantly. "Why kill yourself Steve? Just walk it. Get off and walk it. Waaalk it. Don’t you want to walk it? There’s no shame in that. See, all those other people are walking. People with better bikes than you. C’mon! Just walk up the hill, man." That’s when you need to shout them all down. NO!! F U ALL, I'M RIDING IT!! Head down. Keep spinning.
I wonder if I can clip out in time?
At certain points I was going so slow up the hill, the thought entered my mind that this could end badly. Like what if I cramp up and physically can’t spin anymore? Seeing as how the only thing keeping the bike upright on the hill was its forward momentum which would stop as soon as I stopped pedaling, I wasn’t even sure if I could unclip my shoe from the pedal before the bike toppled over with me on it. That would have been embarrassing.
I should have practiced this more.
It’s easy to open up an energy bar or a sandwich wrapping when you’re stopped at a stoplight with both hands free. It’s not as easy when you’re trying to do the same with your teeth and your one free hand, going at 20 miles an hour. Since the bike is where athletes take in most of their calories, it’s rather important know how to do the little things like opening up food packages easily.
F this. This is BS. No F-ing way I’m riding 112 miles on this thing.
Don’t get me wrong. I love my road bike, but after a mile swim and maybe 30 miles on the bike, your arms, shoulders, neck, and wrists get sooo tired from supporting your upper body. The last 26 miles were painful. I couldn't fathom riding double this distance at IM Arizona on the same bike. I decided right then and there to buy a triathlon bike. :)
California girls. God bless ‘em!
Half of the run course was right along the beach. The bikinis were out in full force that day. Loved. It.
I can’t believe I signed up for double this distance. Crap.
With my quads and calves misfiring, stomach hungry, blisters forming, and the big toe hurting in a disturbingly novel way, the idea of running a marathon after a 112 mile bike ride seemed like pure madness. Still does.
Get me electrolytes!
I don't claim to know much about how the human body works, but the hiker in me has always equated muscle cramps with electrolyte deficiency. So every mile on the run, I dutifully gulped down Gatorade and bananas in the hopes of staying ahead of my cramps.
Just make sure you make the cutoff.
This was my overwhelming thought during the run. I was so friggen slow that I was in danger of not finishing by the course cutoff time of 9 hours. The little voices finally won and I had already resigned myself to run/walking the half marathon, so I was constantly checking my watch and doing math in my head, just to make sure that however much I walked, I was still going to come in on time.
Final Times:
Swim 1:13
Bike 3:49
Run 3:07
Total 8:24
Monday, January 4, 2010
This one time? At dance camp?
Think of dance camp as a convention for dancers. Sometimes they're called "Congresses", as in the "LA Salsa Congress", but the idea is the same. A bunch of dancers getting together from all over the world to learn to become better dancers and more importantly, to dance their asses off. Usually each type of dance will have their own convention circuit. The one I went to in Palm Springs CA over New Years was for West Coast Swing.
These camps usually offer multiple days of classes and seminars taught by many of the top pros. (That is, if you can manage to wake up in time to attend them after all the late night social dancing. This past weekend for example, some folks danced until 5 or 6 am every night.) I took as many classes as I could, but as anyone who has taken a bunch of these in a short period of time will tell you, retention becomes a big problem. While I did manage to remember maybe 3 or 4 new patterns, I think the most important thing I got out of the whole weekend was a renewed sense of focus on musicality.
There was one class in particular, taught by Myles and Tessa, shown here in some of their improv dances...
[ http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V3ZxiPKmacg ]
[ http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M0p7g26AJYs ]
They didn't teach a single pattern. What they did do was to spend an hour talking about, demoing, and having us practice dancing WCS to "Boom Boom Pow" by the Black Eyed Peas vs. Michael Jackson's "Billy Jean" -- very different songs that call for different interpretations on how WCS should be danced. We practiced shaping WCS basic patterns to fit the driving One Two THREEE beat of Boom Boom Pow, even when the WCS basic is Walk Walk Tri.ple.Step.Tri.ple.Step. We also practiced hitting the "WhoWillDance. OnTheFloor. InTheRound." part of Billy Jean. One of the main themes of the class is that it's not only okay, but encouraged, to abandon the basic WCS beat in order to hit certain defining highlights of a song.
I'm not going to say that any of this was earth shattering stuff, but it really did me good to be reminded that dancing should be about the music. Somebody once said that dance is essentially using the human body as a physical amplifier for music. I like that. It implies that all dancers are also music lovers, which I believe we are. As such, it should be our goal to strive to be that perfect amplifier.... to dance in such a way that anybody would be able to tell the difference between "Boom Boom Pow" and "Billy Jean" even with the sound turned off.
As far as how the theme of the class applied to me personally... Tessa talked a little bit about dancing with leaders who are "in the zone", just leading one pattern after another with little or no regard to the music. (different from "off beat". it's entirely possible to dance perfectly on beat, but not to the music.) I totally recognized that in myself. Especially when I dance salsa. I've always kinda known that this was something I needed to work on, but for whatever reason, I've ignored it. Maybe it's because I feel like it's easier to "get away" with not dancing to the music in salsa? Compared to the enormous variety of blues, soul, r&b, contemporary, hip hop, and rock songs to which you can dance WCS, differences in salsa music and rhythms are much more subtle, so I feel less compelled to lead them differently. Sure, I could hit the breaks if I know the song well enough, but I do it as an afterthought rather than as my MO.
After starting WCS though, I quickly realized that musicality is one of, if not the most important aspect of this dance. Looking back, it's what drew me to WCS in the first place. With this lesson fresh on my mind, I tried applying it to my social dancing that night. What a difference! Even with my limited WCS repetoire, it's pretty amazing how much fun you and your dance partner can have just by leading the four basic WCS patterns (sugar push, left side pass, underarm turn, whip). To the music. As my toolbox of WCS patterns grows, it will only become more interesting.
[on a side note, i also honestly think that dancing wcs keeps you young and current. the slower nature of wcs tends to attract an older crowd than some other dances, but you wouldn't know it by watching 60+ year olds dance to and hitting all the breaks in a silly song like Boom Boom Pow. they're sooo not "2000 and late".]
These camps usually offer multiple days of classes and seminars taught by many of the top pros. (That is, if you can manage to wake up in time to attend them after all the late night social dancing. This past weekend for example, some folks danced until 5 or 6 am every night.) I took as many classes as I could, but as anyone who has taken a bunch of these in a short period of time will tell you, retention becomes a big problem. While I did manage to remember maybe 3 or 4 new patterns, I think the most important thing I got out of the whole weekend was a renewed sense of focus on musicality.
There was one class in particular, taught by Myles and Tessa, shown here in some of their improv dances...
[ http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V3ZxiPKmacg ]
[ http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M0p7g26AJYs ]
They didn't teach a single pattern. What they did do was to spend an hour talking about, demoing, and having us practice dancing WCS to "Boom Boom Pow" by the Black Eyed Peas vs. Michael Jackson's "Billy Jean" -- very different songs that call for different interpretations on how WCS should be danced. We practiced shaping WCS basic patterns to fit the driving One Two THREEE beat of Boom Boom Pow, even when the WCS basic is Walk Walk Tri.ple.Step.Tri.ple.Step. We also practiced hitting the "WhoWillDance. OnTheFloor. InTheRound." part of Billy Jean. One of the main themes of the class is that it's not only okay, but encouraged, to abandon the basic WCS beat in order to hit certain defining highlights of a song.
I'm not going to say that any of this was earth shattering stuff, but it really did me good to be reminded that dancing should be about the music. Somebody once said that dance is essentially using the human body as a physical amplifier for music. I like that. It implies that all dancers are also music lovers, which I believe we are. As such, it should be our goal to strive to be that perfect amplifier.... to dance in such a way that anybody would be able to tell the difference between "Boom Boom Pow" and "Billy Jean" even with the sound turned off.
As far as how the theme of the class applied to me personally... Tessa talked a little bit about dancing with leaders who are "in the zone", just leading one pattern after another with little or no regard to the music. (different from "off beat". it's entirely possible to dance perfectly on beat, but not to the music.) I totally recognized that in myself. Especially when I dance salsa. I've always kinda known that this was something I needed to work on, but for whatever reason, I've ignored it. Maybe it's because I feel like it's easier to "get away" with not dancing to the music in salsa? Compared to the enormous variety of blues, soul, r&b, contemporary, hip hop, and rock songs to which you can dance WCS, differences in salsa music and rhythms are much more subtle, so I feel less compelled to lead them differently. Sure, I could hit the breaks if I know the song well enough, but I do it as an afterthought rather than as my MO.
After starting WCS though, I quickly realized that musicality is one of, if not the most important aspect of this dance. Looking back, it's what drew me to WCS in the first place. With this lesson fresh on my mind, I tried applying it to my social dancing that night. What a difference! Even with my limited WCS repetoire, it's pretty amazing how much fun you and your dance partner can have just by leading the four basic WCS patterns (sugar push, left side pass, underarm turn, whip). To the music. As my toolbox of WCS patterns grows, it will only become more interesting.
[on a side note, i also honestly think that dancing wcs keeps you young and current. the slower nature of wcs tends to attract an older crowd than some other dances, but you wouldn't know it by watching 60+ year olds dance to and hitting all the breaks in a silly song like Boom Boom Pow. they're sooo not "2000 and late".]
Thursday, December 31, 2009
On Cycling...
Ah, cycling. My favorite of the three triathlon disciplines. Not because I'm fast, or strong, or climb well. I'm not any of that. I like cycling because it's just plain *fun*! Swimming can get a bit boring and repetitive, while running has always been an exercise in pain tolerance for me. Cycling on the other hand, brings me back to my childhood when all I needed was my trusty bike and the world was mine.
Cycling gives immediate gratification for hard work. Pedaling hard? You're rewarded with the wind in your hair and the world passing you by at 25 mph. Big climb? Look forward to an exhilarating downhill where even your inner speed demon comes face to face with cold hard fear. When I'm zooming down a hill at over 35 mph, all that's running through my mind is *Omg*, pleeeze let there be no loose gravel, sand, crazy drivers, or sudden gusts of wind. But... Oh. WhatARush!
Before last year, the last time I had ridden a bike regularly was back in college in the early 90s. I had a white Schwinn 10-speed. It had brake levers on both the curvy and straight parts of the handlebars so I could brake with my hands in either position. The two gear shift levers were located right where the handlebars met the frame, in the center of the bike. I loved that thing.
Fast forward 20 years. Deb, my friend from work who is a cyclist meets me at the house of somebody from her cycling club who was selling his racing bike. He brings it out.
It only had one set of brakes, located on the curvy part of the handlebars. Ok. No biggie. I can learn to ride like that.
It also had clipless pedals. Ok. I've vaguely heard about those too. Something about special shoes that actually attach to special pedals so that you can pull up as well as push down. I can learn how to ride with that too. (Most people will fall at least once while learning how to ride clipless... all the while looking like a complete idiot. It's a right of passage.)
It wasn't until I started test riding the bike when I realized that I had no idea how to shift gears. The two familiar shift levers are nowhere to be found.. "Push in your brakes," Deb said. Whaaa? Turns out you squeeze the brakes to stop, but you push the entire brake inwards to shift gears in one direction, and push this other little paddle next to the brake to shift in the other direction. This way, you can shift without ever moving your hands. Genius!
Knowing absolutely nothing about bikes, I bought this one based entirely on Deb's say so. :)
A year later, I still know very little about bikes. I couldn't point out the "bottom bracket" if my life depended on it, for example... and I do know enough to know that is an embarrassing admission. (Deb finally pointed it out to me today after I told her about this blog.) I thought it might have been interesting to share a little of what I *have* learned. Maybe explain the differences between aluminum, carbon, and titanium frames. Between Campagnolo, Shimano, and SRAM components. Between a road bike and a triathlon/time trail bike. Then I realized that to try to do all of that would take up more space than most of you probably have the patience or interest to read.
Let's just say that if you enjoy shopping, or love reading about or drooling over the latest gadgets and toys, then cycling is your sport, my friend. The easiest way I can explain buying a new high end bike is that it's very much like buying a new computer. You can either buy one prebuilt from a company like Dell, or you can buy all the parts separately and built it yourself. But even Dell allows you to customize your machine by upgrading the processor, or memory, video card, or whatever. Bike makers are like that too, except instead of CPU, memory or video, you select components like derailleurs, cranksets, and shifters that come in a wide variety of quality, materials, weight, and prices. People will often keep the same frame and just upgrade components as the years go by instead of replacing the entire bike. To take the analogy further, just like in the old days when you could not mix and match Apple and PC parts, or Canon and Nikon lenses, cyclists must choose between Italian Campagnolo ("Campy") or Japanese Shimano components.
See, I'm already boring you. Suffice it to say that these are not your father's 10-speeds. They are mechanical marvels that can cost upwards of $8-10k new if you want to ride like Lance Armstrong. Ya. For a fricken bicycle! (The fact that it is even within the realm of possibility to ride what Lance rides is kinda amazing. Imagine being able to take Jimmie Johnson's race car out for a spin every weekend!) I think it's pretty clear now that cycling is not a cheap sport. One wheel alone could run you more than $2k if you want to get fancy and have money to burn. When you're driving around on the weekend, most of the bikes that you see on the road ridden by anyone wearing a cycling outfit will range anywhere between $1k - $6k new.
[Incidentally, there's a reason why we wear those outfits. Chaffing. Ass padding. Aerodynamic. Once upon a time, I made fun of these cycling weenies. Not anymore. :) ]
That all said, don't let any of this scare you away from triathlons! As Lance himself has famously said, it's not about the bike. It really isn't. I estimate that the vast majority of cyclists out there (certainly including myself) are not at the level where they can fully appreciate the awesomeness of their bike. Much to my friend Gary's dismay, that used bike I bought had full Dura-Ace, which is top of the line Shimano. *Com.plete.ly* wasted on me. I'd venture that most riders in my cycling club could kick my ass on a $100 Huffy purchased at Walmart.
All you need to finish a tri is a working bike with two wheels. Don't have one? Borrow one. Or buy a $50 clunker off Craigslist. I've seen grown men ride BMX bikes in the shorter races. Mountain bikes or hybrids are more common than you think. People aren't going to think any less of you for showing up at a race with a mountain bike. If after a race or two, you decide to get more serious about this whole triathlon thing, you can start thinking about getting a road bike. Or maybe even a time trial bike. The important thing is to just get out there and do it. :)
Cycling gives immediate gratification for hard work. Pedaling hard? You're rewarded with the wind in your hair and the world passing you by at 25 mph. Big climb? Look forward to an exhilarating downhill where even your inner speed demon comes face to face with cold hard fear. When I'm zooming down a hill at over 35 mph, all that's running through my mind is *Omg*, pleeeze let there be no loose gravel, sand, crazy drivers, or sudden gusts of wind. But... Oh. WhatARush!
Before last year, the last time I had ridden a bike regularly was back in college in the early 90s. I had a white Schwinn 10-speed. It had brake levers on both the curvy and straight parts of the handlebars so I could brake with my hands in either position. The two gear shift levers were located right where the handlebars met the frame, in the center of the bike. I loved that thing.
Fast forward 20 years. Deb, my friend from work who is a cyclist meets me at the house of somebody from her cycling club who was selling his racing bike. He brings it out.
It only had one set of brakes, located on the curvy part of the handlebars. Ok. No biggie. I can learn to ride like that.
It also had clipless pedals. Ok. I've vaguely heard about those too. Something about special shoes that actually attach to special pedals so that you can pull up as well as push down. I can learn how to ride with that too. (Most people will fall at least once while learning how to ride clipless... all the while looking like a complete idiot. It's a right of passage.)
It wasn't until I started test riding the bike when I realized that I had no idea how to shift gears. The two familiar shift levers are nowhere to be found.. "Push in your brakes," Deb said. Whaaa? Turns out you squeeze the brakes to stop, but you push the entire brake inwards to shift gears in one direction, and push this other little paddle next to the brake to shift in the other direction. This way, you can shift without ever moving your hands. Genius!
Knowing absolutely nothing about bikes, I bought this one based entirely on Deb's say so. :)
A year later, I still know very little about bikes. I couldn't point out the "bottom bracket" if my life depended on it, for example... and I do know enough to know that is an embarrassing admission. (Deb finally pointed it out to me today after I told her about this blog.) I thought it might have been interesting to share a little of what I *have* learned. Maybe explain the differences between aluminum, carbon, and titanium frames. Between Campagnolo, Shimano, and SRAM components. Between a road bike and a triathlon/time trail bike. Then I realized that to try to do all of that would take up more space than most of you probably have the patience or interest to read.
Let's just say that if you enjoy shopping, or love reading about or drooling over the latest gadgets and toys, then cycling is your sport, my friend. The easiest way I can explain buying a new high end bike is that it's very much like buying a new computer. You can either buy one prebuilt from a company like Dell, or you can buy all the parts separately and built it yourself. But even Dell allows you to customize your machine by upgrading the processor, or memory, video card, or whatever. Bike makers are like that too, except instead of CPU, memory or video, you select components like derailleurs, cranksets, and shifters that come in a wide variety of quality, materials, weight, and prices. People will often keep the same frame and just upgrade components as the years go by instead of replacing the entire bike. To take the analogy further, just like in the old days when you could not mix and match Apple and PC parts, or Canon and Nikon lenses, cyclists must choose between Italian Campagnolo ("Campy") or Japanese Shimano components.
See, I'm already boring you. Suffice it to say that these are not your father's 10-speeds. They are mechanical marvels that can cost upwards of $8-10k new if you want to ride like Lance Armstrong. Ya. For a fricken bicycle! (The fact that it is even within the realm of possibility to ride what Lance rides is kinda amazing. Imagine being able to take Jimmie Johnson's race car out for a spin every weekend!) I think it's pretty clear now that cycling is not a cheap sport. One wheel alone could run you more than $2k if you want to get fancy and have money to burn. When you're driving around on the weekend, most of the bikes that you see on the road ridden by anyone wearing a cycling outfit will range anywhere between $1k - $6k new.
[Incidentally, there's a reason why we wear those outfits. Chaffing. Ass padding. Aerodynamic. Once upon a time, I made fun of these cycling weenies. Not anymore. :) ]
That all said, don't let any of this scare you away from triathlons! As Lance himself has famously said, it's not about the bike. It really isn't. I estimate that the vast majority of cyclists out there (certainly including myself) are not at the level where they can fully appreciate the awesomeness of their bike. Much to my friend Gary's dismay, that used bike I bought had full Dura-Ace, which is top of the line Shimano. *Com.plete.ly* wasted on me. I'd venture that most riders in my cycling club could kick my ass on a $100 Huffy purchased at Walmart.
All you need to finish a tri is a working bike with two wheels. Don't have one? Borrow one. Or buy a $50 clunker off Craigslist. I've seen grown men ride BMX bikes in the shorter races. Mountain bikes or hybrids are more common than you think. People aren't going to think any less of you for showing up at a race with a mountain bike. If after a race or two, you decide to get more serious about this whole triathlon thing, you can start thinking about getting a road bike. Or maybe even a time trial bike. The important thing is to just get out there and do it. :)
Monday, December 28, 2009
On Swimming...
Let's face it. Everybody can run. Most people know how to ride a bike. But the main reason why more people don't try triathlons is because of the swim. Either they flat out don't know how, or can't fathom having to swim longer than a length of a pool in one go. It's intimidating.
I came into swimming very late. This year, actually. Ya, I was able to simulate a poor approximation of the freestyle stroke. But the fact that I was only ever able to go 25 yards at a time before completely running out of breath meant only one thing. I was doing it wrong.
[Literally doing it wrong. Swimming is less about fitness than it is about how efficiently you can pull your body through water. It's a very technical sport... kinda like how golf is a technical sport. A nice effortless golf swing, when done right, will send the ball hundreds of yards. Swimming is like that. A nice efficient freestyle makes you tired like walking makes you tired. You gotta swim a loong time before you need to stop. Any extra effort put into your stroke will only be wasted energy if your technique is not right.]
I've always regretted never really learning how to swim, so late last year I finally decided to do something about it... and signed up for my first triathlon in March. Huh? See, that's how I roll. Commit to the crazy goal first, then figure out how to do it. This race had a very short 150 meter pool swim, so I figured I should be able to go from 25m to 150m in 4 months. 16 swim classes and 3x a week practice sessions later at the gym, I was there! Barely. I wanna say that I swam those 150m nonstop on race day, but let's just say I was very glad the pool was only 50m long!
So naturally, I signed up for 3 more triathlons with swims of 500m in April, 1000m in May, and 1500m in June. All open water swims in a lake, so no stopping this time. When the farthest you're able to swim is 150m, 500m seems pretty daunting, while 1500m might as well be the entire Pacific Ocean. Again, it was one of those instances of commit first, figure it out later.
I did figure it out! I "found" my stroke, the stroke I could maintain almost indefinitely, sometime between the 500m and the 1000m races. Problem is, it's ass slow. How slow? In the last Olympic distance race with the 1500m swim, I came in 289 out of 295 men and women of all ages (some well into their 70s) in the swim. That's the bottom 2%! And get this. At 42 minutes, it was the fastest 1500m I had ever swam. You know what? I'm not even embarrassed because I knew I had come a long way. I'm now past the point of simple moral victories, though.
The Ironman swim distance is 2.4 miles, or 3862 meters. With the way I swim in open water with no pool lanes to guide my way, I'll prolly get lost and end up swimming some extra... let's call it 4000m. That's 2 hours at my current pace. The swim cutoff for the IM is 2:20, so 2 hours is cutting it close. The top age groupers swim it in an hour. Something is still obviously not right with my stroke. I'd love to be able to swim 4000m in 1:30 or less by next November's IM.
Time to get to work.
[For those of you who need more inspiration, a friend of mine did not know how to swim *at all*, and ended up finishing an Ironman with the 2.4 mile swim less than a year after taking his first lesson. No excuses, guys. Just do it.]
I came into swimming very late. This year, actually. Ya, I was able to simulate a poor approximation of the freestyle stroke. But the fact that I was only ever able to go 25 yards at a time before completely running out of breath meant only one thing. I was doing it wrong.
[Literally doing it wrong. Swimming is less about fitness than it is about how efficiently you can pull your body through water. It's a very technical sport... kinda like how golf is a technical sport. A nice effortless golf swing, when done right, will send the ball hundreds of yards. Swimming is like that. A nice efficient freestyle makes you tired like walking makes you tired. You gotta swim a loong time before you need to stop. Any extra effort put into your stroke will only be wasted energy if your technique is not right.]
I've always regretted never really learning how to swim, so late last year I finally decided to do something about it... and signed up for my first triathlon in March. Huh? See, that's how I roll. Commit to the crazy goal first, then figure out how to do it. This race had a very short 150 meter pool swim, so I figured I should be able to go from 25m to 150m in 4 months. 16 swim classes and 3x a week practice sessions later at the gym, I was there! Barely. I wanna say that I swam those 150m nonstop on race day, but let's just say I was very glad the pool was only 50m long!
So naturally, I signed up for 3 more triathlons with swims of 500m in April, 1000m in May, and 1500m in June. All open water swims in a lake, so no stopping this time. When the farthest you're able to swim is 150m, 500m seems pretty daunting, while 1500m might as well be the entire Pacific Ocean. Again, it was one of those instances of commit first, figure it out later.
I did figure it out! I "found" my stroke, the stroke I could maintain almost indefinitely, sometime between the 500m and the 1000m races. Problem is, it's ass slow. How slow? In the last Olympic distance race with the 1500m swim, I came in 289 out of 295 men and women of all ages (some well into their 70s) in the swim. That's the bottom 2%! And get this. At 42 minutes, it was the fastest 1500m I had ever swam. You know what? I'm not even embarrassed because I knew I had come a long way. I'm now past the point of simple moral victories, though.
The Ironman swim distance is 2.4 miles, or 3862 meters. With the way I swim in open water with no pool lanes to guide my way, I'll prolly get lost and end up swimming some extra... let's call it 4000m. That's 2 hours at my current pace. The swim cutoff for the IM is 2:20, so 2 hours is cutting it close. The top age groupers swim it in an hour. Something is still obviously not right with my stroke. I'd love to be able to swim 4000m in 1:30 or less by next November's IM.
Time to get to work.
[For those of you who need more inspiration, a friend of mine did not know how to swim *at all*, and ended up finishing an Ironman with the 2.4 mile swim less than a year after taking his first lesson. No excuses, guys. Just do it.]
Sunday, December 6, 2009
Overheard in an old school Civic...
...somewhere in LA.
Me: (trying to be funny) "You know, the last time I've had to roll up the window by hand like this was over 15 years ago."
Friend: (as I shut the door and started walking away) "Umm, you remember how to lock the door by hand too, right?"
Me: (trying to be funny) "You know, the last time I've had to roll up the window by hand like this was over 15 years ago."
Friend: (as I shut the door and started walking away) "Umm, you remember how to lock the door by hand too, right?"
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