Cynical idealism or idealistic cynicism?

Friends and acquaintances, knowing that I love competition of any sort (I once played Scrabble for three days for a teriyaki beef stick; one of my sisters took it but only after a loud discussion of what actually constituted victory), ask me how I feel about the Tour de France and cycling generally and the role that performance-enhancing drugs appear to play.

Depending on how you look at it I'm either a cynical idealist or an idealistic cynic. My instinct is that nearly all of them dope. On the other hand their skill is so far beyond mine, doped or not, that doping 1) probably doesn't mean much when comparing Tour riders to everyone else 2) probably doesn't mean much when comparing Tour riders to each other, since they're all doing it. I'm not sure what this means except that they're all light years better than I am or anyone I know is; at that level how much better do you really have to be?

Anyway, I've veered dangerously into murkiness. If I'll spend three days playing Scrabble for a 75-cent prize, it's probably no surprise I follow a number of professional sports very closely, and none closer than Major League Baseball. This article does a great job of pointing out that Americans having a good laugh at the expense of the Tour might be able to find their amusement elsewhere. I also wish more domestic sports fans could get a grip on the role of PEDs on their pastimes. Who knows how Scrabble would be different without them.

Northeast reconnaissance

I've threatened for months that I plan to circumnavigate Wake County. For years the southern and western routes have been clear. Today I rode most of the northern portion. Though I have no map to offer at the moment, I can say that I followed the northeast border of Umstead State Park along the remarkably crappy Ebenezer Church Road for a crucial portion of the route. Even in its remarkable crappiness — mostly because it desperately needs resurfacing — I could manage the other traffic. Shoulders on the other roads were at least good with decent sight lines too. I made it to Six Forks Road, which was my plan unless I decided to go farther. A few miles to the south, Six Forks is an Amazon of traffic flow. Where I need to catch it to go north before going east toward Wake Forest, it is a tranquil country stream. The rest of the route from Wake Forest seems obvious: south on N.C. 96 to N.C. 42 into the dark heart of Johnston County, west on 42 out toward Moncure and routes northward into the extremes of Chatham and Wake counties before heading east toward home. With today's link under my belt, the circumnavigation could be next weekend. Or maybe later. Stay tuned.

Hangin' with the Bs

Well sort of. Most of the people on this ride — The Spin Cycle B ride, advertised as between 17 and 19 mph — wouldn't have had any trouble on last night's ride. Maybe they just wanted to relax by going at A pace for most of the night. But it was a much more enjoyable group experience than last night. Some shaved legs, lots of hairy legs. A range of frame materials. Smaller percentage of team kits. And much more open. Huge thanks to Mike, who, when I told him I was new to group riding, told me what to do for 25 miles. Some of it I understood, some I didn't. I have no idea if I'm educable or not. Anyway, the rest of the group was willing to let me grab a wheel even though I never pulled. I'm optimistic that if I show up Tuesday I won't be asked to leave.

The A ride

Dropped like a hot sack of cat shit. Smoked like a spliff of Rastaman ganja.

Most bike stores, including the The Spin Cycle, offer a variety of group rides, with skill levels ranging from the slowest at C to the fastest at A. My plan was to go on Tuesday's B ride, but the significant threat of rain — it was dripping on my ride home — kept me in. I figured what the hell, I'll try the Wednesday A ride. And after nine bikeless days and the last two with only my commute, I was itching for some miles.

Of the 12 or 15 riders who showed, I was one of two with a metal frame; among the minority with unshaved legs and not wearing a team kit; and the only one with a visored helmet and unmatched tires. I knew I didn't fit; the reception I got made it clear they knew it too.

My plan, even before I arrived, was that I would hope to draft someone as far as it would get me and when I got dropped make my own route instead of working to find the group. The plan worked for about 10 miles. Me and another guy got left behind on a long descent. It was like watching the Millenium Falcon engage the hyperdrive. The other guy did everything he could to outrun me and not acknowledge me. I'd give him room and then I'd reel him back in. That happened a few times. Anyway, we rode in proximity to each other for about five more miles before I let him go. He was thoughtful enough to indicate he was turning south.

I turned north and took a quick route back to The Spin Cycle. Austin, the one guy who did talk to me, was still packing his bike when I got there. He asked how my ride was and I told him OK — after all, I did get nearly 40 miles in and went really fast for parts of it. I also said that I knew I got dropped because I was too polite. Instead of holding back while the bikes in front of me coasted part way down the aforementioned hill, I should have gone into the middle of them and maintained my draft. I might have gotten dropped later but it would have gotten me through that point. Austin agreed.

The plan for Tuesdays and Thursdays for the forseeable future is to kick ass on the B ride until I'm sure I need more of a challenge. Then we'll see what happens.

The Firecracker and more

Today was the 15th Firecracker Ride. This annual 50k and 100k event, sponsored by The Spin Cycle, is one of my favorite rides. Soemthing cool happens every year. Today was my third Firecracker. In 2005 I met cyclebuddy, still one of my favorite guys to ride with when we can both find time. Last year I was able to hop from group to group and wheel to wheel and thus go fast without expending a lot of energy.

This year I ran into a professional contact of mine at the first rest stop. He invited me to ride with his group, which included a guy that I met on my smokin' ride on Sunday. What a blast. They were good folks interested in hauling ass on the road and kicking back at rest stops. The best part is I have a standing invitation to join them on their regular Saturday and Sunday rides. I did try to talk up The Electra Challenge but didn't seem to find many takers.

Having spent the morning drafting behind these fine folks, I decided I wasn't done. I came home, had some water, filled my tires and then went out to complete an imperial century for the day. The bike is parked after 103.5 miles.

Twenty miles in less than an hour

In fact, 20 miles in a few ticks less than 59 minutes. To make the most of this shamelss bragfest, I'll add that I averaged 20 mph for more than 28 miles. Then I coasted home the remaining 27 miles. I'll leave it to you to check the provided link showing the route to judge if the chest beating is justified.