Intimacy Versus Isolation

When I was in college, back in the early Pleistocene Period, I studied psychology. For a while, I considered a career in it, helping people to better suffer the slings and arrows of today's hectic life, and make them act just a little less nutsy-fagan. When I realized how many more years of school would be required to make the big bucks in psychology, however, I quickly downgraded my ambitions to just using psychology the way most laymen do: Con Artistry.

In "Dead Poet's Society," Robin Williams pointed out that men study poetry "to woo women." Along those lines, most college males study psychology because they think it's an easy "A," but also so they can better fool women into going out with them.

By this reckoning, the most homely college sophomore, having successfully passed English 101 and Psychology 101, has a fair to middling shot of getting a date with a pretty girl. I was a college sophomore when the RandoWife first went out with me.

Case closed.

But, I Digress

For some reason, odd bits and pieces of my seven (yes, seven) college Psychology courses stick with me to this day. Some of it I use to help the RandoDaughter with her homework ... or to manipulate the RandoDaughter to do her homework. Other things I use when watching Jeopardy, or will deploy to make boring conversation. For example, did you know that "Death Wish" is actually not just a Charles Bronson movie? Carl Jung wrote about the "Todeswunsch" as a desire to return to the peace of the womb ... or to your secret bunker of AK-47s and Desert Eagles.

Another thing that stuck with me is the phases of psychosocial development: Autonomy vs. Shame and Doubt, Initiative vs. Guilt, Industry vs. Inferiority, Identity vs. Role Confusion, Intimacy vs. Isolation, and Bambi vs. Godzilla.

These are the phases that we pass thru as we grow from infants -- dependent upon the world for everything -- to adults who are capable of fending for ourselves, and of appreciating the humor of a cute fawn in a bucolic setting being smashed flat by a giant lizard foot.

It is the societal aspect of this that struck me this past Saturday, when I was riding my bicycle to the Nashville Motorplex so that I could win the Nashville Super 80. Not the Bambi thing, of course, but the one before it: Intimacy vs. Isolation (the title of this post ... remember?).

Be One With the Road

A bicycle is an intimate form of travel. You sense the environment thru which you pass much more fully than you do when driving a car.

Usually, this is a good thing. As I crossed Thompson Lane near Nolensville Road, I smelled Krispy Kreme. This is not just a good smell -- it is one of the greatest smells ever. And, as is the wont of such an odour (you must use the British spelling for smells like this), that siren's call of smells lured me, and I answered. Two HOT Krispy Kremes right off the assembly line, all melty and gooey and making my fingers sticky, rinsed down with a piping hot cup of really strong coffee, and I was powered up and ready for the race.

Would we have won if not for those HOT Krispy Kremes and coffee? Perhaps. But I'm glad that I do not know.

Just past the Krispy Kreme on Grandview, a road that parallels Nolensville Road but has none of the traffic or stop lights, is a taqueria owned by La Hacienda -- a popular chain of mexican restaurants here in Nashville. This place also has a wonderful smell, thanks to the tortillas that they cook there. Drive by it in a car -- even with the windows down -- and you will not get to enjoy it. Ride past it on a bike, and you will want mexican food for dinner.

Not all odors are gustatory, of course. This time of year there are pear tree blossoms, and in the summer the smell of honeysuckle can overwhelm you. And not all odors are good, either. Chicken farms and old road kill on hot summer days can make you re-route your ride.

And there are other things that you may miss from a car that ... well, you won't mind missing. The shake-and-bake surface of an Alabama road. Mind-numbing miles of flatness thru south Georgia cornfields. Feral Kentucky dogs.

We take the good with the bad. Maybe because it makes it easier to appreciate just how good the good is, or maybe it's just because by missing one you can miss it all. You have to open yourself up to the opportunity and take the chance ... so, your choice is clear:

Intimacy vs. Isolation

How I Won the Nashville Super 80

This past Saturday I won another bike race, dominating the competition with a display of raw strength and power that redefined the bounds of what was heretofore considered possible of a "mortal" man.

I was awesome.

Me me me me me me me.

Get it?

Hmmm ... That's Not What I Heard

Oh, all right.

I was very fortunate to be a member of the Harpeth Cutters team this past Saturday, at the Music City Motorplex at the State Fairgrounds, when we won the inaugural Nashville Super 80 Bicycle Race. We managed to beat the other teams by four laps, averaging around 25 mph on single-speed bikes with flat (i.e., no clipping in and no toe-strap) pedals, going around the 0.8 mile banked track.

It was painful, it was hectic, it was exhilirating, and it was a blast.

Chance Favors the Prepared Mind

Again, the victory was a testimony to preparation and training. Les Wooldridge, our captain, put together an incredible team of athletes, including Connie Weisner, Vic Hardin, Bill Glass, Lisa Starmer, Greg Turner, Don Mason, Laura Reinert, and Bob Rowland. He then added me, RandoBoy, for plucky comic relief. And to give the other teams a bit of a chance.

Here we are at the end of the race doing jumping jacks.

Once Les had assembled his "crack" team, he then put together a strategy: Go in the direction that the other teams were going, but faster.

Brilliant!

Okay, there was more to it. He had us all get on the bikes at the track early, so we knew just what was going to be demanded of us. If you've ever ridden a single-speed bike with 67.4 gear inches you know why: You gotta spin. Fast. If you want to keep the speed over 20, you better be able to maintain a cadence of at least 120.

We're talking Road Runner here just before he goes "beep-beep" and flips the coyote off.

Les also acquired two bikes that suited our range of sizes (see picture above), and got Bill Glass to tweak the rides so that they were in top shape and easy to quickly configure for each rider during the race. As a fellow randonneur, Bill knows how to do this better than anyone. He is the MacGyver of Bicycles.

Bill also spins better than anybody. He and Les, during the training rides, were the only ones who could get these bikes over 30 mph.

Here's Bill coming across the finish line to take the checkered flag.

Bill got this assignment largely due to his years of racing: He was one of the few of us that could be trusted to take his hands off the bars like this.

By the way, if you don't think total preparation of a bicycle before a race is important, ask the RandoWife. Her group, Team Lanterne Rouge, came in third -- about one lap behind the second-place Wheel Banditos. On one of their team bikes, the rear wheel locked up about half-way around the track. Their rider cut a hole in his leg, and had to then shoulder the bike cyclo-cross style and run it back to the pit.

Here's the RandoWife riding for her team. Note that this bike has a rear derailleur, but it was locked down so she couldn't shift. This was their replacement bike for the one that broke.

The other invaluable piece of preparation was the racing order. Les sent out a hypothetical series of riders and laps, and everyone gave superb feedback on it. He then modified it, and modified it again, largely with the help of Connie Weisner. We then had a great plan that allowed us to use the right resources at the right time, changing rhythms to keep the competition guessing, and giving everyone just enough rest after their rides so they would be recovered, but not so much that they would get cold.

Perhaps as important on Saturday, the team stuck to the plan. We've all seen efforts go down in flames when folks decide to shake things up that are working great, but the Cutters didn't. We just sat back, continued to execute, and stayed loose.

We were loose enough that our captain was about to jump up on the wall and boogie in the middle of the race.

Now that's what a bike race should be all about.

Special thanks to Al Wagner, who took all of the great photos in today's blog. He even got one of me looking fast. 

I don't even seem to notice that my front tire is almost flat.