Be Emaciated in Just Two Weeks!

So, the September issue of Bicycling Magazine arrived yesterday, and as I'm looking through it a number of thoughts hit me:

• Why does a September issue arrive in mid-August? Is this a time-space continuum problem? If Doc Brown finds that I'm reading it, will he start ranting about how careless flux capaciting could inflict Marty with Parkinson's?

"Great Scott!" "No, I think that's a Trek, Doc."

• Why are there all of these ads for cars? I could understand it if they were the kinds of cars that we might put bike racks on to drive somewhere and ride, but a Cadillac CTS Sports Sedan? Really?
• And then, finally, the ultimate question: Why am I so fat?

Now, I'm not going to argue with you as to whether I am fat or not. I get people all of the time telling me that I'm too skinny and I need to eat more. Of course, these are all "normal" people (and may be lying to me), as opposed to cyclists. My mom, for one, is always saying "Mangia, mangia, mi biciclette boy -- eat-a some more-a pasta!"

OK, mom doesn't really talk like that. She was born in central Florida 80 years ago, so she talks like most Southern women. She used to cook like most Southern women, too, but my dad's cholesterol cured her of that back in the 70's. She does tell me that I'm too skinny, but she's also the one that told me about Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny. Liar!

Anyway, I usually have to explain (to non-cyclists like my mom ... just kidding about the "liar" thing there, mom) that there are three kinds of weight when it comes to cycling:

• Thin
This is what most recreational cyclists are. Clothes look good on you, and the doctor only says "You could lose a few pounds" during your check-ups because if he didn't give you some kind of advice, how could he (in good conscience) bill your insurance company?

Thin riders can generally ride a club century at a comfortable pace, but don't win any KOM points on the long hills. They watch what they eat, but are not obsessed with it. For example, they can go to McDonald's and get a Big Mac with fries, but will only Super-Size it if they rode at least a metric that morning.

• Skinny
These are the guys that stay with the faster packs on the tough climb Tuesday night, and may even be the first over the hill if no Climbers show up (see below). They look good in their team kit, and the doctor usually sends them in for a bone-density scan, rather than telling them to lose weight (Hey, he's just doing his job!).

Skinny riders have a meal plan. They know the glycogen index of everything that they eat, and know what it's going to do to their bodies. ("These beets will help break down that lactic acid from my morning workout.") They still, although rarely, consider how a thing "tastes." For example, a Skinny rider may actually eat a piece of bacon. 

• Climber
This is the guy who's always over the hill first Tuesday night. He's often seen sitting and spinning along next to the Skinny guys, who are churning their way up that hill, until about 30 yards from the top, when he seems to get bored and -- zoom! -- zips up and over.

Climbers are usually fast on the descent, too (damn them!). It's because they have no frontal surface area. Wind curves around them as if they were a wing ... a very, very thin wing.

Depending upon the guy (or girl -- we all know a few Climber women), your only chance to hang with the Climber is on the flat roads ... but don't count on it. Many Climbers are all leg muscle, and can even sprint. These are the ones we call "Pros" or "Cat 2s" or "bastards" (but in an admiring way ... honest).

Climbers look good in kit, but not in swimsuits. Vestigial arms -- where the brachial artery is larger than the biceps -- are not what the chicks on the beach are looking for. In street clothes they look like extras from "Schindler's List" ... on a long day when the catering wagon never showed up.

I've heard reports of climbers who "binge and purge." I think they just purge.

Anyway, back to Bicycling Magazine ...

Every month, there's at least one article telling me how to burn off those last five pounds, get a stronger core, clear up my skin, and have a digestive system so regular that the world could replace the atomic clock with my toilet. The past few months, they've been running pieces about cycling chefs from around the world -- where they ride and who they cook for -- plus a recipe that will give you lasting power at the next criterium, assuming that you have five hours to cook it and can stomach the taste of risotto in hummus.

The cover of Bicycling Magazine almost always features a super-lean cyclist, on a very clean brand-new bike, wearing a pristine kit that fits him or her like it was made for him or her (okay, yeah, it probably was), riding in perfect weather over absolutely gorgeous terrain. Next to it is this command:

Get LEAN Now

The message could not be clearer: If you were this thin, you would look like this in your cycling clothes, and you'd be able to afford this bike, and you'd keep it this clean (you could wash it rather than waste time eating), and you would be able to get out on days like this and ride in countryside like this. You just have to  ...

Get LEAN Now (the "loser" is implied.)

Double Triple Digits

I grew up in the South. In my entire life (over 360 in dog years), there's only been one August that I have not lived south of the Mason-Dixon line. As such, you'd think that this statement would not be a revelation to me: It's hot here this time of year.

And this year has been one of the worst. Of course, every summer seems to be the hottest one ever when you're embroiled (literally) in it, but the numbers seem to show that this one has been exceptional. For example, we've now had 29 straight days at the RandoCave with a high temperature in the 90s. The low has dipped into the upper 60s twice.

So, why did I go out Saturday and ride 100 miles in 100 degree temperatures? Because I'm stupid? Because I'm insane? Because I don't know when to get off the road and out of the sun and just take a break?

Yes. Thanks for noticing.

I had a simple goal Saturday: Ride a little, at an easy pace. I was going to go down to Chattanooga on Sunday with some Team Belladium and Harpeth Bicycle racers to ride the River Gorge road race and time trial courses, so I needed to save my legs. Saturday, I just wanted to check out a few roads that I've been curious about, and ramble some. You know ... have fun!


So, I put the Lynskey on the back of the RAAMinator about 6 am and drove down to Page High School, and then biked back home. It was already in the mid-70s, and muggy as hell, but I took it easy and had a good quiet ride.

At the RandoCave, RandoGirl joined me and together we biked back down to Arrington Vineyards for Team Belladium's "Women and Wine at the Vine" ride. Since this was a "ladies only" ride, RandoGirl got to enjoy some "sister cycling" while I went off and did my own thing.

First, I headed down to Chapel Hill, TN, on Horton Highway (US-31). I'm planning a bicycle camping trip for November and wanted to see whether this road would be tolerable on a fully-loaded bike, since it gets a little traffic. The review was mixed, since the road has a decent shoulder that the state has completely ruined by putting in a rumble strip starting at the Rutherford-Williamson county line. You can go to the right of the rumbles, but that's where all the debris is. Your best bet, sad to say, is just stay to the left of the white lane and make the cars go around you. Meanwhile, the drivers are probably all shaking their head, thinking, "Why ain't that boy riding his bicycle on that nice wide road shoulder?"

Coming in to Chapel Hill about 10:30, the bank sign said that it was 95 degrees. I stopped at the Shell station for ice and Gatorade, and then rode down to Sonic for an early lunch. From there, I went further south to Henry Horton State Park, and checked out their tent camping area -- it should be very nice in November, but was pretty warm about 11:30 am on Saturday.

I had agreed to meet RandoGirl back at Arrington Vineyards at 1:30 pm, and figured I had about 30 miles to ride to get there. For the return trip, I went west on TN-99 -- wider shoulder than US-31, but no rumble strips so it's great for cycling -- and then north a few miles on US-431. From there, my plan was to backtrack parts of my new Cathey's Creek permanent to Bethesda, top off my bottles, and then finish the ride with about 90 miles.

Funny thing about riding a route with which you are not yet familiar -- particularly when you're doing it backwards: It's easy to miss a turn.

Next thing I know, I'm thinking, "Hmmm ... this seems hillier than last time. And hotter. Definitely no shade. And the turns don't look right." And then the road ends at some road with no sign, and you turn left because that's the way you were supposed to go about five miles back, and then you keep going that way reading road signs and looking for something you've been on before, knowing full well that eventually you'll get to some road that you know ... or you'll be back on TN-99 or US-431 or US-31.

Fortunately, I hit a road that I knew. Unfortunately, it was well south of where I thought that I was. Almost as bad, it was a terrible road -- rutted, half-gravel, and damned hot. Eventually, it ended, and 10 miles later I was finally at Bethesda, where I filled my now-empty bottles and had three refills of Diet Coke from the fountain machine. I also sat and ate a bag of chips while watching NASCAR on the television, just to get my salt level up and my core temperature down.

Since it was now after 1 pm, I called RandoGirl to tell her that I was probably not going to be at Arrington Vineyards at 1:30. They were having a picnic lunch in the shade, but it was pretty hot there as well, so she said that she would meet me at the RAAMinator at the high school instead. Since I now had cold fluids and felt decent again, it was an easy 10-mile spin for me, and I just beat her back.

Sunday in Chattanooga, I was still cooked, and my friends had to wait on me to catch up on a lot of the early turns. I promised myself then that I was NOT going to do another triple-digit ride in triple-digit heat again. At least, not this year.

I hope.