The cycling revolution will not be televised

-- Government’s failure to invest in bike infrastructure is turning Kiwis into fat bastards

Study: Commuters are less likely to ride a bicycle to work when governments fail to invest in bike infrastructure. (Tell us something we don’t know).

A recent Australian study shows Sydneysiders (who are buying bicycles at a faster rate than cars) are far less likely to ride a bicycle to work than people living in other Australian and international cities. A lack of useful and safe bike paths, the CBD's many one-way roads, and a shortage of places to store bikes during the day are keeping commuters in their cars.

With only 1.8 per cent of its 4,100 kilometres of cycleways designated bike-only lanes, Sydney lags behind other cities, but is streets ahead of major New Zealand cities.

Hell, the New Zealand Transport Agency isn’t even prepared to consider trialing a bicycle/walking lane on Auckland’s only harbour crossing (Regional transport chairwoman Christine Rose said it achieved a “low assessment against the criteria" for priority transport projects).

In the meantime, the hardy few cyclists braving a work commute continue to be treated as pariahs of the road (and face getting the bash from motorists), while the New Zealand government fritters more than $900 million a year on sport and recreation – to little effect. 

A near 60-per cent increase in sport and recreation funding over the past decade has all but failed to increase the average Kiwi’s physical output.

What the? $900 million worth of advertising to get our fattening arses off the couch, but no harbour bridge cycle lane (or any other cycle lanes of strategic significance)? And this, despite a Sport and Recreation Active New Zealand survey highlighting cycling as one of the most common types of activity.... slightly less popular than walking (including walking to the pub, back from the pub); gardening (exercise, my arse); swimming (passable); and fishing (don’t make me laugh).

Here’s an idea: siphon the spectacularly ineffectual Sport and Recreation advertising budget and put it into cycle lane construction for bicycle-owning commuters, who are currently too spooked to leave their cars. The spinoffs are many, not the least reducing New Zealand’s average arse size and public health bill.

Celebrate the hardness

-- Seven times Tour de France winner Lance Armstrong called him Nails. Viatcheslav 'Nails' Ekimov finished every one of the 15 Tours de France he started. Aged 14 he rode 38,000 kilometers in one year. That was just the beginning.  

Like the colours of a cyclist's wardrobe, motivations driving pedal strokes cover a spectrum. But where individual cycling goals often diverge, admiration of the cyclist's dedication to improvement is universal. Has there ever been a cyclist, of any ability, who at some stage hasn’t wanted to go faster, ride longer or more effortlessly? Cycling’s mere mortals cut out a few weekend drills for quick gains. Immortals, like two-time Olympic Gold medal winner and Russian cyclist of the Century Viatcheslav Ekimov, go to such lengths they make their professional peers look like big girls' blouses. 

Ekimov started training as a cyclist aged 12 (it was the Soviet era) and moved on to the rather ominously named Armed Forces Sports Society. He became a pro bike rider in 1990, at the age of 23, starting and finishing (aged 40) 15 Tours de France.

Daniel Coyle, in his book Lance Armstrong's War, provides a taste of Ekimov’s unflinching determination. 

The third parable ... was the Story of Eki. Thirty-seven-year-old Russian Viatcheslav Ekimov was the only rider on Postal -- indeed, perhaps the only person in Armstrong's world -- whose work ethic was beyond question. This status was underlined frequently, most of all by Armstrong's assertion that Eki was “nails.” Which raised the question: what does it take to be “nails”? This is what it took. When Eki was fourteen and living at a sports club in St. Petersburg, he rode 38,000 kilometers in one year, an average of 450 miles a week. In 1996, as a professional, he nearly doubled it ("That's not possible for a human," Landis said incredulously). But it was true -- Eki had twenty-five notebooks full of training logs to prove it. Eki had ridden thirteen tours and finished every one. Eki never missed a training day. Eki was never late or unprepared. Eki coached himself. Eki was Eki.

A salute to Ekimov and hardness. Don't worry too much about all the miles. But we all should suck up some of Eki's iron willed determination.

5 minutes with Cadel Evans

-- Still learning to live with squeaky short man syndrome

Chopper Guard caught up with Aussie battler and Silence-Lotto rider Cadel Evans. Finishing a close second to mild mannered CSC rider Carlos Sastre in this year’s Tour de France, Evans can take some quiet satisfaction from his year’s achievements.

Chopper Guard: Gidday Cadel, how are you?

Evans: DON’T TOUCH ME!

Chopper Guard: Oh, sorry about that. Bad start. How is your shoulder, anyway?

Evans: I CUT YOUR HEAD OFF!

Chopper Guard: I see, still a bit sore, then. Ok. Let’s get to a happy place, can we, Cadel? You were clearly satisfied with your second placing in this year's tour. To what extent will you change your overall race strategy for next year's tour now that key signing Bernard Kohl has been eliminated and Yaroslav Popovych, a rider you insisted must stay as a condition of re-signing with Silence-Lotto, has been lost to powerful rivals Astana?

Evans: I have a lot of people to thank and a lot of people who have helped me along the way – my coach, my dog, my girlfriend, my coach, my dog. I CUT YOUR HEAD OFF! Did I mention my dog? I hate cats. Hate them. We had a kitten, once. Hated it......my dog. I CUT YOU! All the people who stuck by me. It’s been a life’s work…….

Chopper Guard: Oh, that’s lovely, Cadel. Here, have a tissue.

Evans: DON’T TOUCH ME!

Chopper Guard: Oops, there I go again.

Evans: I CUT YOUR HEAD OFF!

Chopper Guard: Oh, gosh, yes. Looks like our time’s up. It’s been great. We’ll get your gentle assistant Serge Borlée to show us out.

Sisters against cyclist bashing

-- NZ bikers show true colours

Otago researchers say the threat of getting the bash is keeping New Zealanders off their bicycles. Apparently, the perceived threat of attacks outweighs the benefits of pedalling. It might make me fitter, but I’m not prepared for the punch-up, some might say. 

Perceptions can be funny things. Are there really that many motorists out there baying for cyclist blood? 

However, I can understand certain trepidation and the threat of getting a vehicular bash. Every cyclist has a story. And research tends to back me up. 2006 Ministry of Transport crash statistics show 9 cyclist deaths; 150 were seriously injured and 683 suffered minor injuries, as indicated by police reported crashes on New Zealand roads. In the same report cyclists were found to have primary responsibility in only 30 percent of all cyclist-vehicle crashes in which they are injured or killed – i.e. vehicles cause 70 percent of injuries and deaths.

Members of Kiwi Biker, the site for all New Zealand motorcyclists, have entered the discussion.

The ‘Hitcher’ sets the tone: “Fucking treadly riders,” he begins, offering further insight. “I had an opportunity to clean up a couple of dozen of them this morning, but decided to brake hard instead.” (How accommodating, thanks Hitcher).

He goes on and on about wankers and arseholes and gut-laden lycra (fair point – guts and lycra is a bad look. But try pedalling in board shorts). “I hope your MP3 players get caught in your spokes and that your spandex suit is rent asunder when your corset snaps. There should be laws against middle-aged men in lycra,” he says (That’s a bit tough. OK, middle-aged men and all that. But, hell, do you want them to stay on the couch, grow moobs and buy a motorbike?)

He finishes: “If you want to ride on roads that owners and operators of POWERED vehicles have paid for, then please show some respect and courtesy.”

(Got to put you right here, Hitcher. Most lycra clad cyclists, and especially middle-aged ones, don’t ride because motorised transport is beyond their grasp. Like bikers they ride because they love it. And what you’ll find is that the majority of them have at least two cars back in the garage. So, they’re not riding the hairy bikers back, so to speak).

Twisted sister offered more favourable ideas. “I find a quick lick of my palm across their lycra clad arses is very enjoyable and satisfying...well it is for me anyway.”

Sounds ok, though, ah, assuming ‘sister’ is, well, you know what I mean.

Continental Car Services - gouging for humanity

-- Just what is “environmental recycling”?

Today, a small detour, and another reason why I’ll be cycling to work next year.

In these times of creeping credit crunchiness you can’t blame businesses for creative cost recovery. While hitting consumers in the pocket isn’t particularly taxing on marketing departments, their price-hike storytelling is much more colourful. The trick with price rises is providing just the right level of justification, even if it gaps the truth, to minimise customer discontent. Oil companies are leaders in this field (and, certainly, an oligopoly helps).

Here’s cost recovery that doesn’t wash, thanks to Continental Car Services.

The $15 “environmental recycling” charge added to a standard vehicle service.

“What’s this about,” I enquired.

“Oh, that relates to the oil change – we have someone collect the used oil,” the service manager explained.

“Hang on, workshops have been doing this from the beginning of time. So, tell me, what’s materially changed to justify the extra charge?”

“Well, um, ah, all workshops charge for it and it’s now our policy.”

“So, then, the only thing that’s changed is your decision to pass on this cost to customers.”

“Yes.”

The reason why I no longer use Continental Car Services is not the charge.

It’s the lies.

Oil collection is not something new and dressing it up as “environmental recycling” is bullshit.

Wankers

Chopper Guard personality of the year

-- In what must be this year’s most cringe-worthy PR blunder, the unfortunately proportioned Auckland City councillor Toni Millar’s ill-advised television rant transformed her from an unknown bureaucrat into a cycling community hate figure. Nice work.

Did one of her white linen suited St Heliers neighbours put her up to it? Surely it wasn’t of her own volition. On Campbell Live she raved, blathered and jiggled, railing against cyclists’ arrogance and their menace on Tamaki Drive.

Hello. Tamaki Drive is an Auckland Mecca. Every day thousands of Aucklanders travel along it, to and from the city and between the beaches, stopping for coffee, rollerblading, kiting, watching; in their own way putting some joy into their lives. The braying masses tend to overwhelm progress as usual. Hell, sometimes it's tough even making decent progress on a bike. But most reasonable thinking people embrace the chaos, figuring that a little inconvenience is a small price to pay for a destination this good. It’s not a place or the thoroughfare for the selfish and uptight. 

Be cool. Relax. Breathe in. Breathe out.

Chopper Guard cyclist of the year

-- France’s Jeannie Longo (50), the female version of Belgian legend Eddy 'cannibal' Merckx, only tougher

Still racing aged 50, Jeannie Longo is considered by some as the world’s greatest ever cyclist. She has more than 1,000 career victories, the most of any cyclist in history, including 54 medals in national, world and Olympic competition. This year at the Beijing Olympics, her seventh consecutive Games (joining a select group of female athletes, including the Jamaican Merlene Ottey, to have participated in seven Olympic Games) Longo finished, by her standards, a possibly disappointing 4th in the time trial.

Winner of the road racing gold in Atlanta 1996, she won her first Olympic medal (silver) at Barcelona in 1992. In road cycling she has won nine world championship gold medals, three silver and two bronze. Her Olympic haul isn’t bad either – one gold, two silvers and a bronze. And then there’s track cycling: four world championship golds, three silvers and three bronze. In 1993 she had a once only crack at mountain biking and took home a silver medal.

The greatest ever cyclist, or singular domination indicting the quality of women's cycling? Whatever. Celebrate longo-gevity and harden the fuck up.

Cycling dos and don'ts: DON'T

-- It's just not right 

Don't skip meals. It looks bad and gets you expelled from professional bike tours.

Cycling dos and don'ts: DO

-- If the pants fit.....

Hell yes. Give it heaps, my man. Around the block will do just fine.

Cheers to performance enhancers

-- Heineken's interest in sport goes much deeper than footwear

How could anyone ride THAT race ‘clean’? 3,500km in 21 days, never mind the mountains, on meat pies and Coke. I don’t think so. Humanly impossible. But no one's ever going to sanction performance enhancing drugs, so let’s just enjoy the drama of drug busts, stony faced denials and empty confessions.

The perpetual drug cloud got me thinking about useful enhancers for us amateurs. We know about coffee. But here’s something else you might want in your musette - Heineken.

A mate of mine runs marathons. Hard as nails, he’s the only guy I know who rumbles 42kms before breakfast. From time-to-time he bonks. Wild hunger sets in first. Then the black spots, confusion, spastic limbs, and jabbering. He doesn’t eat anything on his runs, which is a clue. Reckons he’s training his body to eat fat. But when you look like you weigh only 7 stone there’s not much fat to eat. He’d better be careful. Watch for early signs of a Low Energy Ebola thing that eats arms so the running can continue.

The other day, 800 metres from home, he bonked. Unable to run or walk he lay down on the footpath, watching clouds and hoping the cold drizzle on his face might be energy giving. After a few minutes he staggered up, like an old horse with severe pins and needles, and forced a few brittle steps. No good. Crawling, the only solution. But how do you cross a busy main road on all fours? In this part of the world that’s an invitation to bored motorists.

The decision to crawl home on roadside grass rather than endure abrasive qualities of footpath was a turning point. Advancing his first knuckled hoof uncovered a full bottle of Heineken, it’s green coloured glass keeping it safely hidden from bipedals. Now, this guy lives like a monk. Doesn’t even drink. But you can’t stifle survival instinct. He ripped the top off with his teeth and drunk it. The stuff couldn’t come out of the bottle fast enough. He stood up and ran home. There’s something in this.

Butter Chicken – a cyclist's best friend?

-- The secret of India's cycling prowess is out - Butter chicken 

Nutritionists lamenting the western (and now Eastern…..maybe Southern, too) world's growing number of fat bastards have fingered New Zealand's favourite Indian delicacy butter chicken as the number one dietary sinner. The study found that butter chicken packs some of the highest levels of saturated fat among takeaway foods.

This is great news for cyclists, who will be excited by the headline finding, which states that a single serving of India's finest provides sufficient calories for five hours of cycling.

Five hours on one curry. That's magnificent. A cyclist's winning formula. Watch out for this season's race nutrition breakthrough - Butter Chicken Leppin?

Sometimes you just gotta

My mate Mike reckons ride, don't race. But sometimes you just gotta race. Stomp on the pedals so hard you nearly rip off the handlebars. Getting there first feels pretty good. A fella in New York, called Reed Rubey (who it seems recently suffered a serious injury crash, according to his team's website) recently got the feeling. He didn't come first, but he belongs.  

Read his story on page 28 of Why I ride: The Art of Bicycling in New York.  All power to Reed.