The Mo Chronicles

The Mo battle has turned into a frothy bet. I proposed that we do a 2013 challenge for miles and elevation - $0.10 per mile and $0.01 per foot if elevation. Mo promptly turned that bet down as he was unwilling to lose a mortgage payment. Hee hee hee. Without the bet, in 2012, I beat him by 3400 miles and 100,000 feet or a cool $440. We settled on the tab for a simple family dinner together - wives and kids, no booze. If the first week of competition is any sign of the year to come, this is going to be a big year of riding. Fired up.

The Mo Chronicles

This post is the beginning of an ongoing series about my healthy obsession/competition with my buzzy StravaMo. As you have previously read, Mo and I - along with some accomplices - do some pretty wacky morning rides to work. Mo also has an equally vicious competitive stream as me. This has led to some fantastic smack talking surrounding the Strava data and our rides.

When we first met in early 2012, Mo was already a Strava pro with a couple thousand miles under his belt. I was new to the site and was just getting the bug. Over 2012, Mo took a sabbatical from work and really wasn't riding as much as he could have been. Come November, my 2012 year to date miles surpassed Mo's all time miles by a couple thousand, and my YTD miles were approaching twice Mo's 2012 totals. I declared Mortal Combat on Mo, challenging him that I would 2x surpass his 2012 numbers. And given that Mo was north of 3,000 miles for the year, this was a pretty serious task for me.

From the challenge on, every 20 mile commute for Mo meant a round trip for me to keep up. Every weekend ride really set me back. My schedule allows more flexibility for me to ride into work. But double in such a short amount if time is tough to keep pace. Ultimately, input in some mega rides between Christmas and New Years to keep it close. But Mo would keep sneaking in his rides to clip my 2x. I ended up with north of 7,100 miles for the year, 4 miles short of double Mo. But the late 2012 challenge has led to a battle and a bet for 2013. More details to come.

Oh, and Mo, you are going down.

The Wheel Destroyer Strikes Again

I happen to enjoy riding in the dark.  Strangely, I feel that the darkness makes my illuminated self more visible to the other people, cars and bikes on the road.  So this morning, I headed out extra early for a ride that would get me to the office still in the darkness.  And heading up Alexander to the Bridge, I got passed by a group of three guys (not unusual).  Rather than let them pass me like I usually do, I tried my damnedest to close the gap.  Upon reaching the peak, I gave up, totally gassed from keeping up.  On the path down to the Bridge, I rolled unconsciously just trying to catch my breath.  All of a sudden, I hit something in the road and was almost ejected from the bike.  At the same time, I heard a huge crack coming from the rear wheel.

Crap.  Did I really just snap another frame?  Not my new steel frame?!?  At best I cracked the wheel.  Crap, crap, crap.  I immediately felt that uncomfortable wobble coming from the back wheel going flat.  I pulled over, flipped the bike onto the handlebars and got to work.  Pulling the rear wheel from the frame, besides the tube being flat, I was caught off guard by the cassette falling off the wheel to the ground.  Usually the wheel and cassette are physically attached to each other.  I changed the tube, jammed the wheel back together with the cassette in place and flipped the bike over.  I checked the wheel and frame but couldn’t find any cracks.  I got the chain lined up and quickly realized that there would be no shifting for the rest of the ride.  Making it to my parking stall, I was thrilled to be in one piece.

After work, I was impressed with myself that the rear tube held its air.  I opted for the Ferry ride home and rode straight to the bike shop.  Under the shop’s lighting, upon dismantling the rear wheel, and the cassette falling to the floor again, it became obvious that the rear hub was struggling.  I was informed that there is an axel inside the hub, which is almost impossible to damage, that I succeeded in snapping in half.  Woohoo!!  A new hub has been ordered and we can hopefully make the repairs.  Otherwise, its another $400 for a new Velocity wheel.  I must say, however, that these Deep V Wheels are the best wheels that I have ever ridden.

And here she is ...

The new ride has arrived.  She’s a beauty and ready for action.  Upon first inspection, we are going to need to make a few upgrades before the bike is fully dialed in.  First off, the blue and white motif include a white seat and white bar tape.  Knowing my sloppiness – both mechanical and riding conditions – it will be a short time before the white tape looks like an Egyptian Mummy, not to mention the nastiness that comes out of my arse leaking out on that seat.  Of greater consequence, the bike came with a fancy new set of race wheels.  The Ultegra hubs are nice, but the 20-some spoke set-up will be shredded at the first sign of the Wheel Destroyer.  I'm going to put my old Velocity Deep V's on this bike and sell the new wheels.  God knows, the Deep V's, while seemingly bullet proof, are almost six months old.  They are destined to fall prey to WD shortly.  I will take the cash from the new wheels to buy a new set of Velocities.

I am psyched for the Ultegra group.  I will report back on that in an upcoming entry.  And the skinny steel tubes look like nothing compared to the thick carbon stuff.  I look forward to having a new bike to further understand the ‘feel’ of a bike.  This myth of stiffness versus flexibility should be highlighted with the steel frame.

'Steel for Real'

The new bike has been ordered.  No more plastic bikes for this FatGuy.  I opted for a local brand, Breezer, and their steel model, The Venturi.  Breezer is better known for their mountain bikes.  But I have heard good things about the road bike, and their attention to detail in the construction and geometry.  Also, I opted for the upgrade to full Ultegra.  I have come a long way from the $550 internet bike days.  Stay tuned.

As an aside, Joe Breezer is a Marin guy, and a founding father of Tam.  And Joe blasted past me a few times during the Dirt Fondo. I like the Marin County connection on this bike and hope to serve its namesake proud.

Are you kidding me?!?!?

The FatGuy Wheel Destroyer does it again.  As well documented in my May 14, 2012 blog entry, I am a bit rough on cheap carbon frames.  My  fancy new Fuji 1.0 frame was a significant upgrade from the bottom-of-the-line Scattante which lasted me a whopping seven months and 3,500 miles.  The new Fuji looked cooler, rode nicer and weighed a pound less.  But in the end, carbon and plastic can not hold up to the power that is the Wheel Destroyer Torque Machine.  The Fuji Stealth Bomber lasted a whopping four and a half months and 2,811 miles before surrendering to the Torque Monster that is this FatGuy.

 

On a seemingly slow ride home, I was begging my buddy Peter to ride up the incredibly steep Vineyard Avenue on our way home.  It is a quick, maybe 25 yard pitch of north of 30 degrees.  After a little prodding, Peter relented and we were off.  We went up Lagunitas towards Natalie Coffin Greene, made a right on Glenwood and cruised up the hill.  On the downhill, I picked up some speed and got ahead of Peter.  I looked both ways at the Bolinas Avenue stop sign, not exactly stopping but slowing considerably.  As I crossed the intersection onto Vineyard, I geared up into the big ring to do the normal power pull up the hill (high cadence/low gears is for long hauls).  As I made it half way up the pitch, my pace slowed and the cranking began.  I got about two revolutions of the cranks into the hill when SNAP right, SNAP left brought me to a complete stop.  I didn’t fall off the bike but the rear wheel did its best not to completely rip off of the bike. I knew immediately what had happened.  Another chain stay destroyed.  I looked down to confirm the fatal flaw and Peter’s face told it all.  He was laughing out loud and applauding my effort.

This frame destruction is a moment that Peter and I will share for the rest of our lives.  I feel that it has brought us infinitely closer as friends and cycling compatriots.  And it is always good to have a witness as to my destructive capabilities.

Now for the aftermath.  Do I really have to go through this with performance again?  They continue to take care of me but I am growing concerned that this is a representation of the manufacturers that they carry.  Performance doesn’t really sell steel or titanium bikes.  And I clearly need something that I cannot break.  No more plastic BS for me.  Ultra light is unnecessary and, frankly, a waste of money on the FatGuy.  Do I hold out for a cash refund to buy something elsewhere?  Do I go for the aluminum bike with high-end components?  I do like the difference between Tiagra and SRAM Force.  Will the jump to Ultegra, Dura Ace or SRAM Red be that much greater?

I offered the manager of Performance the following:  Either give me $5,000 in store credit and I will spend it immediately or $3,000 in cash and I promise to never come into the store again.  They may be better cutting their losses with the cash.  We shall see.

My First Strava KOM – Oak Street, San Anselmo

My buddy John gave me a call having decided to start commuting on his bike to work.  A great idea if you ask me.  And it makes even more sense for him as he lives in San Anselmo and works at Larkspur Landing.  This is a 5-6 mile commute that is almost entirely flat … except for the fact that Jon lives at the top of one of the highest hills in San Anselmo.  Couple that with the fact that John did not have a bike and he had not been on one in about ten years.  But John is a total stud, runs a lot and works out like a champion.  So this was still doable.  I suggested that he should ride up the hill a few times before just dropping four-figures on a new bike.  We coordinated that he would come to our place and borrow my mountain bike – the MTB is my only bike with a triple, and he would certainly need the extra gears going up that hill – ride to work on his own and then we would ride home, facing the hill together.

On our soft pedal from his office, I did my best to psyche John up for the hill.  He assured me that it was going to be no problem, that he had run the hill dozens of times.  He claimed that the hill was just under a mile and it wasn’t too steep.  Having driven the hill in my car previously, I agreed with the mile-ish claim, but the steepness was one to question.  I told John that I assumed the ride would take 15 minutes at a pretty reasonable pace – four miles per hour up the one mile hill was a pretty safe bet.  John scoffed at my estimation and told me that he could run up the hill faster than that.  I didn’t doubt that claim but knew that the ride would be pretty slow.  So I offered a bet of over/under 13 minutes for his time and took the over for a round of drinks at Marinitas.  Again, John sneered and eagerly took the bet on the premise that he could get there under 13 minutes with the caveat that he could either ride or run to the finish line.  I agreed that the finish line stood fixed and he could ride or run so long as if he ran, he brought the bike with him.

As we approached his hill, I reset the Garmin, we rested for a few minutes to give him his best lungs and then we took off.  I dropped him within the first few hundred yards, but that was to be expected.  I got in to granny gear and recited my pain mantra as I pedaled.  Today, the song in my head was ‘Humps to the Boulevard’ by Rodney O and Joe Cooley.  There were come crazy steep parts to the hill, several short stints north of 20 percent grades.  A few times, my pace slowed to that uncomfortable 0% grade where I am going too slow for the Garmin to do the math to register the grade on the computer dashboard.  And I had forgotten that the last few houses on Oak Street were located behind a locked mechanical gate.  And John neglected to give me the code to the door.  So as I approached the top, I had to dismount the bike and carry the bike (in my clipped shoes) around the gate through a dirt path. I jumped back on the bike to gut out the final few hundred yards.  

Not knowing exactly where the Strava segment started and stopped, I rode through the finish line that John and I agreed to just to be sure that I got it all.  I then pedaled back to the finish line with the Garmin reading somewhere in the 11 minute range.  I was worried that I set the bar too low and was going to lose the bet.  But I took the Garmin out of the holster and held it up so John could see the times when he crossed.  After soe time passing, I began to hear John panting coming around the bend.  And then he surfaced, on his feet, running as hard as he could, wheeling the bike next to him.  I held the Garmin out and he read the time as he crossed, 13 minutes 23 seconds.  Sweet Magaritas!!  

My Strava time turned out to be a mixed blessing.  It seems that Oak Street is a popular course for mountain bikers, and not roadies – no surprise.  I took the King of the Mountain with a time of 10.33, a full 1.13 ahead of the guy in second place.  But Strava is not too well represented on Oak Street, my being only the third person to trip the segment.  But I will take it … my first KOM, number one out of three.  I guess I should hit the hill again to see if I can best my previous time.  Otherwise, I will leave 10.33 for John as something to strive for.  Reach higher that the FatGuy, Johnny.