Starting Over

If you had told me one year ago that I would be riding a steel, fixed gear bicycle to work I would have said "no way". And thought that you were crazy. Last September I was busy getting ready for still another Ironman Triathon, and my cycling was just a part of my regular training program, I did not ride daily, I drove a car to work in Marietta, and on the weekends drove to Rome and rode 100 miles every Saturday. My choice of bicycle was a carbon frmae, lightweight TREK 5900SL set up with clip on time trial bars and equipped with 4 bottle cages so I could blow by the aid stations and save time in the race. I wore lycra bibed overalls and a racer cut bicycle jersey, never rode in the rain or on windy days, and definitely never rode at night. I always took at least one day off each week from any exercise, and every fourth week would cut my training in half.



I was, in short, a Tri-Geek. And a Middle Class dork to the nth degree.

What saved me from a fate of terminal Middle Aged boredom was a little green bicycle, a Mercier Kilo. I had owned a black Kilo for two years, and then sold it when I moved to the condo in Midtown three years ago. After the first year, when the fall arrived and the racing season was over, I wanted to get another singlespeed bicycle to train in the winter months. My first cycling coach instilled in us the belief that one should ride a singlespeed bicycle - preferably fixed gear - for at last 1000 miles before starting serious training in the Spring. I wanted to have a good season the next year, so I searched for a deal, and got one, on the Kilo.

Any serious racer tends to buy and sell cycles on a regular basis. Sometimes you change sponsors, and want to unload the models you no longer ride. Or you are looking for an edge, and if you can get another frame that is newer, stiffer, and lighter, then you don't think twice about pulling out the plastic, or selling one or more of the bicycle in your collection so you can make the nut on your new ride.

Triathletes are far worseabout this than roadies. Most tri-geeks come from a running background, and view bicycles the same way that Mr Toad viewed the automobile when he first laid eyes on it. They feel that if the blow as much money as they can on a high end ride, they can buy speed and a place on the podium.

They also tend to turn every race into the cycling version of Mr. Toad's wild ride. The old roadie expression of "twitchier than a triathlete in a Cat 4 crit" is dead-on in my experience. Some of my most dangerous rides on a bicycle have come going into a turn or a technical downhill in triathlons. Last year I had to pull a Lance 2003 and "Baha" through the grass to avoid a young woman trathlete who, for some inexplicable reason, came to a dead stop in front of me on a downhill run and looked down at her pedal. "Sorry" she yelled, as I bunny hopped over the curb and swerved around her, "I think I have a bug on me!"

Sure, honey. Good luck on finishing. Or surviving to see 30.

Lest I get carried away on race stories - and it's before Noon and I haven't even started drinking beer yet - The point is that I have been into a lifetime habit of acquiring, riding, and then dumping bikes to get yet another one. The green Mercier had a short time in my collection. It was set up with a ridiculously small gear, a 46x22, and used primarily to take short trips here and there around our neighborhood. I would up selling it to a fixie rider who coincidentally had just had his stolen out of his garage. He was a very happy man to get a virtually duplicate ride, but what he said to me was to prove to be a life-changing moment.

What he told me was that he used the bicycle as a replacement for a car. He went everywhere - rain or shine - on the little green bike. And he rode it fixed. He worked two jobs, one as a bicycle messenger, and without a ride, he wasn't going to be able to survive.

He wasn't a racer. He wasn't Ironman fit. I was old enough to be his father, and at any average criterium distance I could probably give him a head start and easily whip his butt. However, compared to him, I suddenly felt like a phony. He was a real professional cyclist. He rode a bicycle to make a living. Every day.

I realized I had become one of the people that i used to sneer at. I rode mine basically as a hobby. All of the age-group wins, Team USA photos, "All-American" rankings, really didn't mean anything. I was no longer a cyclist.

And I didn't like it. Not one bit.

So I decided it was time to go back to doing what I always did - simply ride a bicycle. Screw the SUV, the investments, the job. I wanted the adventure I used to have, and the passion for bicycling that I had before I quit racing, stopped spinning a wrench, and took up triathlon and office work.

Come to think of it, they kind of go togethor, don't they?

The short version is I sold alot of road and triathlon parts, put my bike in the SUV, drove it to Carmax, sold the SUV and road my bicycle home. Now I ride a bicycle everywhere. The 40 miles to work and back, to the grocery, restaurants, stores, errands. Rain or shine. Day or night. SOber or Drunk.

I own four bikes. Three are fixies. I still have the TREK, but I have a feeling it's time is limited. I startd riding at the velodrome, want to race track again, and I'm eyeing some of the Keirin frames. My wife quit her job and took one at a bicycle shop, and we will either open our own or I'll go spin a wrench again soon.

Happy? You bet! I got my life back.

Enough of the bio crap. On to the important stuff. Wilson 100 tomorrow in Senoia. I'm taking the Red Dragon.