Blind to giveway rules

-- Looking, but not seeing

Life is a potpourri of chance and opportunity.

Sometimes you come up smelling like roses and other times like steaming turd. Whichever the case, the winners are those who suck it up and enthusiastically saturate their olfactory organs with life’s sweet scents and steamy miasma.

Recently, I was presented with a stark illumination of this hackneyed wisdom, when a car operated by a driver who had failed to giveway suddenly appeared in front of my handlebars.

Before I could even conjure the words, steamy miasma, my bicycle, immediately followed by my face and shoulder, impacted the driver’s car door and window, and I was bounced backwards to the ground, where I writhed to the twisted rhythm of involuntary yowling.

There are better ways to stop. The head-stem of my carbon frame snapped in a style similar to the AC joint in my shoulder. My extremes pulsated with pain.

As kind passers-by tended my twisted form and hazy disbelief became aching reality, I found comfort in the generous care administered by strangers (and, later, ambulance staff) but also irritated overhearing an observer explaining: “He hit the car.” I really hated that and the possibility that those words could be construed to mean I was at fault. Sure, I hit the car, but only because Mr Blind Man was behind the wheel.

The other thought occurring to me as I wrestled the asphalt was, how did the driver not see me? How does anyone not see a pulsating 900-lumen nitelight (which on this occasion was working just fine)?

Turns out you can look, but not see. And not seeing is an excuse popular with errant motorists.

Anyway, now I am under the tender care of ACC and my insurer AA has stumped up for a new bicycle (not that I’m able to ride it just now).

The sad irony is that I was on a ‘recovery’ ride following the first day of a training programme.

Not wanting to fall too far behind schedule while my shoulder heals I’ve had to dust off the wind trainer. And what fun it is dry humping the steel mule, unable to hold the handlebars and shaking my fist at God for the pain in my taint.

No hands is fine when you’re rummaging through a musette, but try it for an hour-or-so on a stationary trainer. Torture.

But, like I said, you’ve got to suck it up and find any traces of sweetness.

So, in this spirit, I’m pleased to share with you the rising excitement dispersing my miasmic mist.

Pictured below, the must-have for the recovering one-armed wind-training cyclist prone to taint pain. Called The Leaner™ it relieves taint pressure by allowing the operator to rest their good arm (your bad arm will likely be in a sling) on the ‘cross-bar’. You sort of ride in the same way you lean on the bar after work on a Friday.

So simple, yet so effective. You will be amazed.

The stain of sporting superstardom

-- It’s not just Keith Quinn who’s left grabbing for tissues

Who can forget commentator Keith Quinn’s orgasmic gasping at the sight of rugby great Jonah Lomu stomping all over England’s weedy fullback Mike Catt to score one of four tries in the semi-final of the 1995 World Cup.

Just as colliding rugby players elicit involuntary expressions of lusty joy from rugby fans, the feats of professional cyclists can provoke a certain level of sporting arousal that sends the amateur cyclist diving for crotchal cover.

Naturally, during the month of July, when the glory of professional bicycle suffering reaches its zenith, somewhere in the French Alps, amateur cyclists everywhere experience firsthand what Keith Quinn couldn’t contain during that fateful 10 seconds of live television broadcast.

The scenario has been beautifully captured in song fashion. And while it is the song writer's fraught relationship with women stirring his involuntary troubles, the end result is the same for dysfunctional sporting adulation.

Fashionably out of date

-- Blogging off-season

No one, not even professional cyclists, rides the whole year round.

After all, you can’t race a season without a restful off-season. So it makes sense that someone who blogs on cycling matters must also take time away from the keyboard to let the scabs heal and rejuvenate.

However, further blunting blogging tendencies is the continuing feast of televised sport.

It started with the popular pay TV channel broadcasting Spring Classics highlights, often at times differing to those advertised; now the football World Cup is upon us; that big bicycle race in France starts quite soon; and The All Blacks have commenced falsifying expectations for next year's Rugby World Cup.

But it’s not just television that captures my attention. There’s internet porn and, just as arresting, email news of an attack dog and its deceitful owners menacing cyclists on the very route I ride three mornings a week.

The email below, from Greg Cross, was contained in a recent Counties Manukau Cycling Club news bulletin.

From:Greg Cross

Subject: Dangerous Pit Bull at Point England

To all my cycling mates

On Wednesday lunchtime my buddy Mark and I were attacked by a Pit Bull on Dunkirk Road out at Point England (the road by the park that takes you out to Panmure). The dog smashed into our bikes in full attack mode taking us both down resulting in a broken collar bone for Mark and lots of road rash and a broken bike for me.

The owner of the dog gave us a false name, address and phone number to avoid a visit from police and animal control. The people with the dog (who live in walking distance to the park) were a Maori male adult and 2 Maori women with a baby in a stroller.

The Pit Bull was tan in colour is extremely aggressive and is still out there. Please be careful on this road and if you see this dangerous dog and its owner please contact Animal Control immediately at 09 360 0750 or the Police

Please pass this message on to all your friends who cycle this route as I would hate to see this happen to anyone else.

Naturally, I hastily despatched a forwarded email to my cycling chums. Forewarned is forearmed, is it not? But then how does a cyclist prepare for an attack dog ambush?

I figure the scenario attaches risks similar to those posed by drunk drivers. You know they’re out there, but hope you don’t cross paths. But in the event you do, you hope the drunk driver hasn't confused the left hand side of the road with the right, or has driven off the road into a lamp post well before you meet.

Not being a cyclist who entertains avoidable risks, I consulted the popular search engine to explore attack dog preparedness.

Turns out there's a galaxy of options, and I refer you to this website for its fantastic product choices – from the animal loving pacifistic ultra sonic dog repeller, known as the Dog Chaser, to more combative mechanisms, such as stun batons (800,000 volts).

Buried in this impressive online product catalogue is dog repellent, but in my mind I’d much rather go for bear repellent – it possesses the same active ingredient: ultra hot pepper spray, but packs a much bigger spray range, which is important for people like me who have a poor aim.

Though, I must say meat loaf enthusiast and experienced user Brent Farwick puts forward a strong case for the dog repellent.

Dear TBO,

I ride a bicycle by choice. Unfortunately, the areas I usually ride through have an unusual number of large, aggressive, roaming dogs. The adrenaline rush I get from confronting and successfully intimidating these large animals is a bit much for a 54 year old guy. It just ruins my day. I've been concerned that sooner, or later, I would get mauled.

So I bought some muzzle spray from you. Today, on my ride home from a nice meatloaf dinner, a large black cur who never fails to charge me developed a sudden interest in running on 3 paws, while using his remaining paw to frantically swipe at his eye.

That wasn't good enough, so he quickly buried the side of his face in the dirt at the edge of the road. That didn't cut it, so it was a quick 3-legged dash/rub-rub into the yard to do some serious "face-sledding" on the grass.

The total delay from contact with that little pepper stream, to complete loss of interest in bicycles must have been on the order of 1/4 to 1/2 a second.

Thank You Sincerely for helping me avoid indigestion, as the meatloaf was truly delicious.

Thanks Again, Brent Farwick

Ride safe.

Yours in delicious meat loaf,

Lester

Democratising cycling performance enhancement

-- Science will save you money

Economic uncertainty tends to bring out creative saving behaviour in everyone.

A little bit here, a little bit there – it all adds up to provide a safety cushion should things get really bad and you’ve got nothing useful to barter.

In this regard, food is a category ripe with potential savings available to the main household shopper. For example, forgoing filet mignon for chuck steak might require a few extra chews, but it won’t compromise nutritional value and yet delivers significant savings.

We’ve taken things a little further in our house.

Where once our meat patties were lovingly rendered from assorted offal and chicken giblets, these days we’ve captured fantastic savings, without comprising nutritional value, or great taste, with Fancy Feast Royale (just be sure to add a bit of cornflour and egg, to beef up your patties).

And this brings me to a significant column item on the great cycling spreadsheet – supplements.

To go without fattens the wallet, that’s for sure. But at what price? Just what is the real cost of being damned to the wrong end of an uneven playing field, languishing in sporting malnourishment and the torture of a dry mouth oxygenated with god-awful cat food burps?

Well, it doesn’t have to be this way.

In fact, it turns out that the average cyclist can have their nutrition and eat it, too. While the rest of the peleton is whooping it up on fancy adaptogens and fumbling with sticky over-priced gel sachets, the cost conscious cyclist should in no way be disadvantaged by this showy consumption.

With a little bit of thought and preparation, science-based performance enhancement is only a few ingredients and a blender away.

It’s time sporting performance enhancement was democratised.

So, I bring you my science-based high performance smoothie.

Again, I stress, unlike most of the supplements in your pantry, all ingredients are scientifically proven to enhance health and general performance.

Set-up blender and add:

- One banana (rich in vitamins and minerals)

- One medium sized beetroot, boiled till soft (nitrates contained in beetroot boost stamina by reducing the oxygen cost of exercise)

- One tablespoon of pure virgin olive oil (lowers the risk of heart disease, stroke and even Alzheimer's disease – which is especially useful for those longer rides when you can’t rightly remember how to get home)

- And a teaspoon of cod liver oil (non-steroidal anti-inflammatory)

Blend for 60 seconds, adding half a bottle of Heineken (fixes bonking).

The taste won’t be much, but it’ll work better than anything else you’re taking.

What’s more, it’ll get rid of that nasty cat food after taste.

Saddling up digital connections

-- Always go for the big coconut

The Great Googling Machine and digital sociality have brought us all closer together.

But even if the glue that bonds our 21st Century connectedness is as weak as motivations for connecting are shallow (“pleasee follow me, I follow back”) that shouldn’t distract from rich rewards that flow when good connections are made.

Which brings me to my brief moment of richly rewarded connectedness.

Recently my Specialized Toupe saddle broke. The actual saddle bit split right down the middle. Sure, I can crush coconuts between my butt cheeks, but there’s nothing about my bike style that is unduly seat taxing.

More concerned about the other bearded nut variety, I phoned the retailer and enquired about the seat warranty. Bad luck – too late for the one-year warranty, I’d have to buy a new seat.

Well, it certainly wasn’t going to be a Specialized saddle if acceptable life expectancy was just two years. What say you, retailer?

Sorry, can’t help you there.

So, I queried, am I right assuming that Specialized manufactures its saddles to last just one-to-two years, in which case I should not be surprised by my experience and get over it? Or does Specialized make a better, longer lasting saddle than my experience suggests?

These aren’t questions for which you can expect answers from the bicycling retail coalface.

But was I looking for answers in the right place?

On occasions like this, when the people most qualified to help turn a blind ear, the Great Googling Machine is your best friend. I got to work and eventually located Specialized founder and chairman Mike Sinyard. Would he help, I wondered?

Unlikely, I thought. What CEO of a major corporate has time to listen and respond to concerns of individual customers, particularly when they’re located in a geography that, good year or bad year, is just a sales rounding error on the company spreadsheet.

How wrong I was. With a bit more time on the Googling Machine I located the email address of the man himself and explained my position.

In just two hours I received a response – Mike Sinyard had forwarded my email to his Australasian manager, who called the retailer, arranged a replacement saddle, and emailed me to say that it was ready for pickup.

Nice. Hopefully this one lasts longer.

When bike trouble brews, always go for the big coconut.

Sky TV back in the saddle

-- From cycling famine to feast

At the end of last year's Tour de France I switched off Sky.

Bastards made me orienteer my way to a nondescript Mt Wellington office, where I had to deposit the decoder.

No point in gorging myself on magic moments in NRL league and irritating Sky channel promotions, I figured.

How sad is that irony? Pay for access to a network that turns out to be more saturated with advertising than free-to- air TV.

The joys of a monopoly.

Anyway, it was with surprise and pleasure to discover Sky TV's 2010 progamming plans for the upcoming European bicycle racing season.

Check it out on Ridestrong

Maybe those ads aren't so intolerable after all....

Bringing decency to nude cycling

-- The cyclist’s merkin

Naked bicycle rider and natural athlete Nick Lowe has taken his case to the High Court in Wellington in a bid to overturn a conviction and $200 fine for offensive behaviour.

My initial reaction was, I suspect, like most others – c’mon people, sweat the big stuff. If he wants to ride in the buff then leave him to it.

However, comments later in the story made me wonder if there’s more to Mr Lowe than meets the eye and if, in fact, the complainant has every reason to object.

Lowe’s claims that he can exercise for about two hours before it gets too uncomfortable, at which point he uses “a lot more anti-chap cream than most,” isn’t the type of solo performance fellow competitors, or road users, should have to witness.

Rugby and league players might wonder what all the fuss is about, but to people who respect boundaries of reasonable taste and behaviour, there is no place in this country for sporting onanism.

My advice to Lowe is cover up.

And I’ve found just the thing.

The cyclist’s merkin.

Keep it hidden without losing that in the buff feeling.

There's more.

This merkin comes with a pivoting lamp for hands free illumination, and two blinking "lure" modes.

Just the thing for the sporting exhibitionist.

Fixie love

-- A little something for all you haters

I love the whole fixie thing. Even tried it once.

Now I’m missing a posterior cruciate ligament. Figure I’m not really cut out for that sort of coolness.

These days my trusty Avanti’s tuned back to freewheel wretchedness and my riding style might be described as apologetic.

Looking back, it didn’t help that I’m too fat for those skinny jeans, too poor to buy a Brooks saddle, and too scared of tatts and piercing to street credibly individualise my saggy skin bag.

But, hey, I wear my street style on the inside, dude.

As a crippled outsider I’ve continued watching, often in awe of the stoic nonchalance a fixter is able to maintain running red lights, but always respectful of the whole thing they’ve got going on.

And I’m encouraged to see the occasional internet parody, like the one below, which tells me that far from being a sideshow on the distant periphery, unworthy of a single thought, fixter-ism is creeping from the fringes and into the consciousness of commentators and others a few cogs closer to, well, the mainstream.

And that’s good for everyone, I think.

Check it out. Hat tip to BikesnobNYC.

Cramped cycling style

-- Is there a cure?

It begins as a large golf ball sized spasm deep in the calf muscle. Nothing too serious that can’t be managed with careful mid-bunch riding, you hope.

But as racing continues and attacking tolls mount, trouble rises up and, inevitably, larger more important cycling muscles succumb to Involuntary Spasms From Hell. Cramp so violent and shocking the rider is unable to turn a pedal. Even toes start curling under the feet. Other symptoms are disturbing for their visibility - a grotesque physical deformation of the quadriceps. The only thing left to do is brake and slump to roadside, clutching and banging your legs for mercy and relief.

And so it was for me at this weekend’s SRAM Tour de Ranges, its vicious Monument Road start unleashing a torrent of lactic acid precipitating my untimely Kaiaua Bay demise.

We knew this ‘fun ride’ would start fast. The first clue was in the flagship sponsor SRAM, which I'm told is some sort of meat flavoured super food, available only in cans, promoted by a bloke who goes by the name of Livestrong (no relation to Bikestrong).

Then, at registration, I heard the MC ’s special welcome to event ‘elite’ riders, including Team PizzaHutAvanti and their leader SuperSupreme, the Weet-Bix Ironman Guy, a recently invigorated rider from the French JustJuice team, and Team BiscuitsVoodoo, a recently launched coffee brand.

The word in the second-string peleton was that these fellas were going to blow up the race on the Monument Road hill, which they did, leaving us stragglers to fight second string battles and limit our losses.

Then the cramp, starting with the golf ball atop Monument Road. You know the rest – a sporting natural selection that kills off the weakest and slowest members of the peleton to improve the survival chances of the remainder.

I’ve plumbed Google’s depths for cramp cures. As far as I can tell I do all the right things with hydration and pre-race and racing nutrition. However, I suspect my warm-up was insufficient for the shock treatment dished up by the hilly race start, which I believe produced more lactic acid than you’d reasonably expect from a more warmed up cyclist.

Knowing that I am more prone than the average bear to cramp I also carry Cramp-Stop, which I think helped stave off more severe early stage cramps. But then it all got too much.

Questions:

Is there a cramp cure? What do you use? Are there training drills that will teach my body to better process lactic acid? Does a better warm up limit lactic acid production for violent/hilly race starts? Magic potions? Secrets?

Please share your experiences.

The year that was and 2010’s disturbing start

-- 2009, year not reviewed; organised crime rides into cycling

I’m finally facing up to 2010. It’s a shock, I must say, and I feel like a failed dieter who’s been caught red handed with fist fulls of cold turkey freshly plucked from the fridge. The shame of it. But face up I must. The fridge is now empty of dead birds and the fat must go.

The important first step, I've found, is curbing Heineken abuse so that its unique formula delivers performance enhancement rather than fur to my teeth.

I’m further embarrassed to say that this lassitude took hold mid-December, at least two weeks prior to Christmas, so I wasn’t even able to finish off the year. No December Cycling Sauce (though Liz Hatch was a strong contender).

But between Christmas and New Year I forgot how to count and was unable to tally reader votes and announce a clear winner. Which is why the release of 2010 Cycling Sauce calendar has been delayed (but stay tuned). h

Chopper Guard’s 2009 personality of the year was also on the December agenda. But I got only as far as eliminating first round losers, including the rabid St Heliers Taxi driver, the jiggling Auckland City Councillor (also from St Heliers and, though quiet over the past year, deserved further consideration), and Auckland’s cyclist-hating Mayor (remember this when you next vote).

I’ll come back to all this. But before I do, a more urgent matter must be brought to your attention.

Bicycle theft. And I don’t mean opportunistic snatch and grab.

Recent events indicate that an organised group of bicycle crooks is operating in Auckland. That’s right. The secretary of east Auckland cycling club Lunn Ave Bicycle Club tells me that three members last week had bicycles stolen from their garages in the dead of night.

Other than timing (all thefts occurred over a couple of days) the spooky thing was that the thieves (thief?) eschewed other garage stuff – golf clubs, tools, blow up dolls, and even ‘lesser’ bikes – targeting only ‘higher-end’ road bikes.

Lunn Ave members, who ride the same Monday/Wednesday/Friday morning loop, wonder if they are being surreptitiously followed and their home addresses noted for future garage burglary.

It does make you wonder. A timely reminder to review bicycle security and to not worry too much about the security of unloved dolls and the like.

Should you be offered for sale or see on Trademe any of the following bikes please call the police or, better, arrange to meet the seller, render them unconscious, disrobe them, and put to work your doll.

Stolen bikes:

White/Black Merida Scultura 907 Evo (2008 Model). White handlebar tape/black hoods. Ultegra componentry and pedals. FSA 172.5mm Carbon Crankset (53/39 rings). 2 x Merida carbon bottle cages and Merida pump. Kysirium Equipe wheelset with Schwalbe tyres. VDO 3.0 Cycle computer with cadence sensor

Silver GT 08 Series 2. Compact Shimano with 12/25 on the back. Ritchey Biomax 2 Pro aluminium 38cm handlebars. Ritchey Pro 30D 9cm bike stem. Black Fi'zi:k Bar Gel tape

White/Blue Genius Squadra. Fork: Grammo Cosmo Carbon SL Ultra. Groupset Shimano Ultegra. Head Set: FSA Integrated. Grammo stem, seat post and handlebars. Shimano Ultegra wheels and Continental tyres. Saddle: Selle Sanmarco Aspide with Titanio rail. Serial number RA0302943706