Tour of Flanders - Museum

A special thanks to BKW friend TK for these photos.

The Classics

With the arrival of April, work is underway to prepare for the Classics. Like a PRO team, we ready ourselves for the stretch of spring racing that captures the hearts and minds of the cycling world. Here at BKW, the Chimay is chilled, the espresso is stocked, and the Lion is hoisted high above HQ. The anticipation creates a nervous energy, equal to that of the start village in Compiègne and, like the PROs with tire pressure, we check our internet connection again and again to ensure zero interruptions and leaving nothing to chance.

We play out the races in our heads; dreams of foul weather, and slippery stones. Our daydreams bring glimpses of a muddied Tchmil, Museeuw, Tafi, De Vlaeminck, LeMond, Vanderaerden, and a dust covered O'Grady. In the coming days, the hardest of hardmen will take center stage, placing the knife between their teeth in an effort to claim the spring's greatest prizes. We will be there to track every minute of it.

April and the crazed racing that takes place comes only once a year and many of us have been ready since May of 2007. The team at BKW have been working on a few special posts to compliment the racing action so please be sure to check back throughout the coming weeks.

- RF

Giro d'Italia 1953

The fluid Fausto Coppi at his best.

Twenty Years On

It is simply amazing that twenty years have passed since that fateful May when American Andy Hampsten rode into the books with his historic win at the Giro D'Italia.

BKW's love for the "hardman" winning style makes it easy to admire Andy's win, which was secured by his efforts on the snow-covered Gavia pass. Although his ride brought him over the line to second place, his finishing time netted him the leader's jersey and eventually the overall win. Andy's work that day and his ability to suffer has inspired countless cyclists over the years and pushed many of us deeper into the pain cave than we originally thought possible.

When cyclists think about how brutal our sport can be, we think about riders suffering on climbs through inclement weather and against the tallest of odds. Andy Hampsten's career embodies all of this.

Posing as a legitimate cycling news agency, we managed to pin down Andy to discuss his historic feat and what it meant to be a PRO in the late 80s. We also spoke of the release of Rapha's newest, limited edition jersey that marks Andy's accomplishment and takes many of us back to the heyday and, for some, a return to the birth of our passion for cycling.

Speaking with Andy was an honor. I felt like he had as much fun telling the stories as I did hearing them. His recollection of his racing career is impressive and his love for cycling is evident.

BKW: So much of professional cycling comes down to a rider's ability to suffer more than the rest. Have you ever suffered more than you did in the famous shots of you, white with snow and frozen, crossing the Gavia?

AH: Not more than that day. We had 25 kms of descending in snow and sleet, but we were well-prepared, and that allowed me to stay calm. I am glad no one told me how crazy the descent was.

BKW: How was the win received by the team’s sponsors?

AH: 7-Eleven knew it was primarily an Italian race, and people in the U.S. had no idea about it, they were eager for a Tour win. Hoonved understood the magnitude, they had twenty years of sponsorship under their belt. I gave the trophy to the owner and he was beside himself; he carried it around like a baby. Shimano was very excited, it was their first major tour win. I gave them one of my bikes and it is now in Shimano's museum.

BKW: Rapha seems to pull together all of the design elements that surrounded your place in cycling back in 1988. Does the jersey bring back some fond memories of the time?

AH: I don't wear my pink jersey around too much, for one, it's too small. But Rapha has done a great job of capturing the details, right down to the panel on the front. The original jersey had a panel sewn onto the front of it. The soigneurs took a mussette and cut the side of it out and sewed it onto the jersey. For this reason, it made it tough to wash. I ended up wearing the same jersey for the entire tour. As I get older, companies like Rapha make me snobby. I don't want to wear plastic jerseys anymore.


BKW: What keepsakes do you have from your win at the Giro?

AH: I have the shoes, undershirt, and the Oakleys. I also have the bike. That is my most treasured item.

BKW: Did you have any kind of prep on your legs for the Gavia? Any warming qualities, like today's embrocations?

AH: We used a lanolin prep on everything. Mike Neel had the foresight to advise us to use it everywhere. I had it on my back, arms, legs, butt, everywhere except my hands. We had a meeting before the race and knew we would see rain, sleet, and snow. Some riders preferred to mix the lanolin with Cramer's for heat, some preferred the blazing hot, and others a medium. I applied the lanolin with a little bit of warming so thick to my legs that it was 3-D.

It was a pleasure to speak with Andy and it seems that he still gets a kick out of recounting the tales to cycling fans. Andy's take was interesting. He said that following the win, there was, of course, a celebration, but it was right back to work with the team's sights set on the Tour de France. Now, that's PRO.

Photo Courtesy: Rapha

The Crash

In the moment of the unfolding the brain’s most primitive, most knowing, self registers a change which radiates out as instantly as light, and our stomachs confuse with the drop of an elevator: Something is wrong.

Whether the event is a yard sale of our cycling self strewn with the force of a wet dog shaking itself dry or the seemingly accelerated zoom view of the single fence post growing as we slide toward it, our first real thought is: I can get up, get back in the race. It’s not so bad.

What defines this event as either comedy or tragedy is the very nature of PRO. When a mortal crashes, the race is almost always over. Give up any more than a thimble-full of blood—the proverbial pound of flesh—and witnesses will do whatever is necessary to prevent us getting back on the bicycle. Quitting a race for any injury that can be addressed with Bactine is comic. However, the very nature of PRO, what it means to be PRO is to get back up and get on the bike. For a guy, there is nothing more PRO than dripping blood and being fast at the same time.

For a PRO, there are no choices. When a PRO doesn’t get up it’s because getting up simply isn’t possible. When they pedal away in pain so obvious we turn away from the sight, we know the meaning of tragic.

In the knowledge that we are crashing, the reptilian brain takes over. Glands fire and a hormone simple as sugar and effective as gasoline takes over. Time slows down and we have time to think: I just bought this jacket. I knew he couldn’t hold his line. I’m going to shred my skinsuit. I have a presentation on Monday. I promised to anchor the leadout.

The world stops moving, seconds pass and then reality takes over. I need some help. Oh wow, this means a trip to the hospital. If the crash isn’t too serious, you make the call to your significant other yourself. If someone else calls, well, that’s more stress than they deserve.

Through the process we have but one choice to consider: Do I fill the prescription for painkillers? Gritting it out with Ibehurtin is PRO, and we all want to be PRO. But the simple fact is we each have our price, the point at which we say, Drugs? Yeah, give me the drugs. Now!

The lifestyle of the crash victim is unlike that of the cyclist. We discuss the merits of Tegaderm, how we sit when we drive, which parts we need to replace. The bottom line on the cost.

The first ride back is a contradiction of experience. Riding is both familiar and somehow alien. The legs rarely enjoy the first full revolution of the pedals. And yet being in the saddle, feeling the air pass is a sign that the world is improving and that familiarity is comforting despite being the cause of so much pain. The physical exertion reminds us of that pain and we often cut that first ride short. How often we overestimate our post-crash capability.

We measure our progress in increasing flexibility, pink skin, disappearing scabs. Gradually, rear wheels lose their power to inflict claustrophobia, turns seem less like hidden skating rinks.

There comes a moment in a ride, sometimes weeks or even months after the crash. It may pass unnoticed at the time and is only recognized hours later. In that moment we push; it is a push, a dig, an effort that we do not temper in the knowledge that going hard hurts, hurts at the site of the injury. No, there comes a day when we forget the pain, forget the injury and instead what our body remembers is the former self, the cyclist we have worked so hard to achieve, the person we’re meant to be.

The Burden of Being BSNYC

Bike Snob NYC is one of those rare blogs that combines wit with an acidic sense of propriety masquerading as humor. You can search the blogs on music, politics, cars or World of Warcraft and you aren’t likely to find a greater moral outrage over more minor infractions than on BSNYC. Not since The Washingtonienne has a blog utilized more pixels in its quest to skewer targets.

For every person I meet who likes BSNYC, I meet another who finds the blog harsh, mean-spirited and not reflective of the average cyclist’s views.

When I was in second grade I read a short story about a monk who was given a vision of heaven. Angels gave him this glimpse of the afterlife as a reward for his piety, but his return to daily life was hell itself. In his glimpse of life behind the pearly gates, he heard music. Music the angels make to serenade God himself. The sound was pure, without dissonance and a beauty so haunting that it lasted in the listener’s mind the way a taste of fine wine lingers on the tongue.

On the monk’s return to our waking life, music was ruined for him. Even the greatest symphonies were cruel taunts barely hinting at what beauty was truly possible. He hated music.

I think the same thing happened to BSNYC. I think he got a vision of cycling in heaven. How else can you explain such a finely honed sense of style.

Even the gentlest, most forgiving roadie knows there is a PRO way to do things and a NOT way to do things. You take your turn at the front. You don’t spit into the wind. You don’t show up with tube socks. You don’t turn your bike into a piece of art. You show respect for the riders around you. And sometimes you chuckle at the clueless.

One can be forgiven for imagining BSNYC hasn't shared the road with a knowledgeable rider since the advent of indexed shifting. He suffers hell here on earth. We decided to interview him to find out why.

BKW: You have a finely honed sense of roadie style. What riders exemplify your sense of proper style?

BSNYC: Hard to say. Proper style varies from race to race and from decade to decade. You know--Grand Tour style vs. classics style vs. crit style. It even varies from body type to body type. You just know it when you see it.

Helmets have pretty much killed style in road cycling anyway. Not that I have anything against helmets, mind you, but let's be honest. Cycling looked better before helmets.

BKW: A lot of being a good rider is basic consideration: not being a squirrel in the pack, blowing your nose down and not out, pointing out road debris. As crimes against cycling go, is there anything that offends you more than lack of consideration?

BSNYC: I think one of the biggest crimes in cycling is whining. I see this in people who yell "Close that gap!" or "Pull through!" all race long, or who get angry at others, or who make excuses and look for someone else to blame when they don't get a result. If you want a gap closed, close it yourself or keep quiet. Bragging is another unforgivable crime. Strong cyclists never need to brag. You brag with your legs. Road riding is about class, and class is the absence of whining and bragging.

BKW: Is there anything about your own riding or personal sense of style about which you are sensitive?

BSNYC: I'm pretty comfortable in my own skin. I have no illusions about my abilities, I love to ride and race, and I'm happy being pack-fill.

BKW: It seems one of your pet peeves is practicality, that is, anything a cyclist uses ought to make sense. How do you define practical?

BSNYC: What's practical obviously varies from discipline to discipline, but what drives me crazy in all cases is when vanity trumps common sense. On the road, a good example is the person doing a Sunday group ride on a $2,000 tubular wheelset. If you've got the cash you can afford training wheels. Practicality is using the right tool for the right job. Save the jewels for the ball--don't wear them to the bar.

BKW: The subtext of your posts, the way I read them, is that those cyclists you write about are missing an opportunity to enjoy all the sport has to offer. Do you despair that those cyclists will learn how it's done?

BSNYC: Well, of course I understand that some people enjoy different aspects of cycling than I do, so it would be wrong of me to say somebody else is missing the point. At the same time, though, I do think people who become hyper-focussed on certain elements of the sport do sometimes miss out. This goes for me too, by the way. As cyclists, we're a very anal species, and we need to be careful not to get too obsessive. We need to look out for each-other! That's part of the reason I often make jokes about getting hung up on your equipment, or on training, and why I try to make light of our tendency to take this whole thing too seriously. Because getting too obsessed with training or upgrading or being overly fastidious about your bike is a great way to waste time, energy, and money that could be better put towards enjoying yourself on your bike. We need to let go sometimes and remember to have fun.

BKW: Shouldn't it be enough that if a cyclist is having fun, then they must be doing it right?

BSNYC: Absolutely.

BKW: What does cycling in heaven look like?

BSNYC: New York with better weather.

ATOC - Podium Footwear

The Euro PRO footwear was out in full force during the ATOC.

The Oscars

Recognition by one's peers for exemplary work is perhaps one of the greatest testaments to a life’s work that one may receive. For the recognized it is a confirmation of one’s artistic vision, the ultimate feedback for insight that rarely begins as more than a hunch. To the audience, seeing a respected master receive the highest accolade afforded gives a sense that all is right with the world, that justice can, on occasion, be served.

If your experience with the movies and watching the Academy Awards is anything like mine, you typically feel a strong connection with one or two of the nominees and on the occasion that they win, such as Marion Cotillard of La Vie en Rose for best actress or Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova of Once for best original song, their victories come as a triumph of the human spirit in the act of creation.

Bissell rider Tom Zirbel would have been a deserving stage winner in the final stage of the Amgen Tour of California. He persevered in a late-race breakaway in conditions awful enough no one would otherwise choose to ride a bicycle. It was a gutsy ride that would have made for a significant win for a little-known rider. It wasn’t to be.

When George Hincapie attacked on the Pasadena finishing circuit’s biggest hill, his acceleraton was an impressive display of strength, the sort of acceleration we expect of our champions, a move we only associate with a true hardman.

Hincapie is America’s most experienced pro rider. The media has repeatedly talked of how until his move to High Road this season he spent the whole of his career at US Postal/Discovery Channel. The fact is, Hincapie began his professional career with Motorola—he’s been a pro since 1994.

Hincapie is the rider whose face you see in the dictionary when you look up the phrase “long suffering.” While he has had his successes, in a career as long and distinguished as his, there don’t seem to be quite enough of them to reflect his ability, his tactical judgment or how he is regarded by the American tifosi.

That Michael Creed kept returning to the breakaway despite his refusal to take his share of pulls and his negative racing tactics had me yelling expletives at the screen. Once Zirbel had been brought back there didn’t seem any just outcome to the day other than a win from Hincapie. And sometimes we find gratification exactly when and where we want.

Levi Leipheimer may have been the rightful overall winner—anyone who witnessed Levi’s intensity in the start house for the Solvang time trial could see his determination—but his previous win in the event makes his achievement less surprising, though perhaps more satisfying than his first win given the refutation to ASO that it provides. This is a victory for pride.

In a race notable for conditions crappy enough to ruin the audience’s belief in California as paradise, it is right that Hincapie, a man who has made his name in Belgium and France, should put the terminal punctuation on the most interesting edition of the Amgen Tour of California. After all, what says PRO more than a win in the rain?

In the wake of the suspicion surrounding his previous team, Hincapie’s association with High Road is a fresh chapter to a distinguished career and a way to confirm what we have always believed: that “Big” George is capable, is hardman strong, and deserves to win.

Photo courtesy of Greg Page/Page 1 Studio.

Lance Who?

Back in 1994 I asked the sports editor of Charlottesville Daily Progress if we should cover the Tour DuPont. "World Champion Lance Armstrong is racing" I added, forgetting the sports department had no idea cycling had a world champion. After getting a solid no I took the idea over to the lifestyle section. "Sure, we've got a page to fill. All pictures, need it by Wednesday." And with that I secured what at the time was my dream, a chance to photograph the race from a moto rather than just the standard finish line photo I'd been doing since Tour DeTrump started coming to town.

A few calls later a moto was secured for the Richmond to Lynchburg stage. Gently rolling hills and a sprint finish for sure. At the start line I meet my driver for the day, Bob. I think Bob has always gotten "the new guy" as a passenger, he tells me all the dos and don'ts of being on a moto. Bob was a pro at this, he asked me what kinds of photos I wanted, he studied the map for the right places to go ahead of the group. Being a still photographer is far different than the TV bike. Still shooters get to blast thru the pack three or four times, no hanging out. It's the skill of the driver and how much he's willing to push the commissars determine what images you get.

After an uneventful hour on the road there's crackle on the radio. We're behind the peleton and over Bob's shoulder I see the Motorola car slowing. Lance has a flat. Bob stops an inch off the car's bumper and I get ready to jump, literally at the heels of the mechanic, for the photo. The Rainbow Jersey getting service. As I leap an arm grabs me. It's Bob, I can't hear him but he shakes his head. I don't understand. The photo I saw is gone.

We blast ahead of the bunch at full tilt, so fast not a photo to be had. I'm frustrated. I need images for a page and I’m getting a little nervous about what I’ll end up with for the day. Bob has gotten me nothing. We stop and I ask "Why?" Bob calmly pulls off his helmet and tells me, "It's the World Champion, you can't take a picture of the jersey in trouble. It's a rule." In my world of American journalism it makes no sense, maybe in Europe but not here. Photos of other guys show the chaos but it was the World Champion. Bob can tell I'm not happy. "I'll get you something good. Promise."

What I didn't know was Bob stopped at a place we could rejoin the race and cruise in the group for miles. What you aren't supposed to do. We’re in the middle of a big club ride in the country. And I get this photo. Lance joking around with fellow Texan Chann McRae. I'm not sure what's going on (I'd like to know the story!) but it’s the fun side of bike racing. Something you might do to your clubmates on a long day in the saddle. Grab a snack when they aren’t looking perhaps. It’s far from the greatest cycling photo ever but I like it.

When you see the photos by any of the photographers of our sport, know it takes not only their talent to see the moment but also their driver to get them to the moment. Thanks Bob.

Back in December, BKW was lucky enough to run into Chris next to an espresso counter and over the course of a few heavily Caffeinated beverages the stories began to flow. Lance Who? seemed like a perfect fit for BKW. You can see more of Chris' PRO images and read his random thoughts at Velopix.

The Cold

Cycling is an offering to the sun. Going for a bike ride is a way to say “thanks” to your maker for the summer months. With the sun beating down and the wind rifling over your body, it’s easy to be grateful for a good life and abundant health.

Indoctrination into serious road riding and racing happens by degrees, much like peeling layers from an onion. But there comes a point when cycling ceases to be an expression of the best of times. We experience the same transition in romantic relationships. At first, we date. Our most hallowed hours of the weekend are saved for the object of our affection, but soon, we can’t get enough of our heart’s desire and we begin to spend as much time as possible with them. For romantic partners, that means trips to the grocery store together and cleaning house. For cyclists, it means riding in the cold.

You probably remember the first photograph you saw of the peloton racing in the snow. For me, it was a shot from Het Volk and the guys were covered in the best in thermal cycling wear. Mutts, balaclavas, thick gloves and thermal booties were the rule.

The shot altered my world view. Seeing the world’s great pros race their bikes in falling snow seemed more than just implausible. It seemed impossible but inspired a kind of hope that was crazy. That’s why science fiction can generate such a compelling hold on the mind. How else could you explain the fascination of men interacting with dinosaurs?

Simply put, riding in the cold is antithetical to the reasons why we took up cycling. It isn’t the breezy pleasure of a summer day. It isn’t carefree. It isn’t a triumph of the will. Or isn’t it?

To be sure, cycling in the cold, if done well, is a submission. It is a submission to the temperature, to the wind, to all the crueler elements. It is a submission to the larger demands of the season, an admission that we cannot hope to be at peak form year-round. Even so, it does take a force of will to leave home when temps reach freezing. A frozen water bottle is only cool as part of a story told months later. The humility required to keep the heart rate in check requires banishing the ego for months at a time.

But with that submission comes a reward. Base miles are pennies in a piggy bank: They aren’t sexy, but they do add up. Each new sunny day of the spring is payback for every effort you didn’t make. And like a flower in the sun, you open with the warmth to show a new you, the one worth watching.

But for now, the miles tick by unremarkably. The ego sits in a box on the shelf and each of us waits, waits for the change of the seasons that returns us to our real home, the true self.

Assos 851 Jacket

The holidays have been especially kind to me this year. As if I did not have enough reasons to celebrate my father's love of cycling, in 2007 he gave me two more...both hailing from Switzerland and both arriving in the familiar white Assos boxes. In one box, a pair of PRO Line tights that have enough wind stopping material on them to fool your lower half into thinking it was time for umbrella drinks poolside. The other contained the bee's knees, the quintessential piece of the PRO kit: a PRO white Assos 851 jacket.

The debate rages on as Assos continues to stake its claim on the top of the cycling clothing pyramid. Some argue its quality and features are no better or worse than the competition's top offerings. However, there is one aspect of the Assos brand that is never debated: pricing. Assos pricing borders on offensive, and when a product carries such a hefty sticker price, consumers expect greatness. The 851 jacket delivers.

For the past two seasons I have been living in a parallel world, one in which ambient temps were always 10-15 degrees higher than actual. In reality, I have been underdressed for two seasons. At the end of last season, I concluded that if I wanted to make it through another winter with a good base come spring, I needed to invest in some new cold weather gear.

Winters at BKW headquarters can mean 60 degrees and sunny to 10 below with a windchill cold enough to snuff out even the best intentions. Assos claims the 851 is ideal for temps ranging from 32 to 50 degrees. A wide range indeed and a perfect match for our proverbial, meteorological weather grab bag.

Ten Pounds of Swiss Action in a Five Pound Bag
Assos has mastered the art of pairing warmth and comfort without bulk. This mastery is evident across the Assos products. From their world-class chamois to the 851 jacket, Assos gets the job done (and done well) with nothing extraneous. As I removed the 851 from its $40 packaging, the first thing I noticed is the jacket's "hand," a term used to describe to how the product feels in your hand or against your skin. The 851 is one of the most supple garments I have come across; the soft texture of the polyester sections feels silky on one side and the brushed fleece on the reverse makes you want to rub it against your cheek while sighing deeply.

The polyamide sections are the utilitarian end of the jacket, protecting the skin from wind and working in tandem with the brushed fleece to give you a mix of warmth and protection. As a cyclist, the windproof material is critical on the forward-facing panels, providing protection from the wind while the rider is in motion. It's equipped with windproof panels on the front of the arms and chest and there's front and back coverage on the collar and shoulders, the prime areas subject to wind when you are tucked into position. Assos is a stickler for details and this is one of the reasons their products are so desirable: a look at the lower half of the 851's front shows a detail that could only come from cyclists who design clothing. The windproof material stops 6" from the bottom of the jacket. This small detail noticeably reduces bulk when in the riding position. The arms have an articulation to them that improves fit when tucked and the torso's front is slightly shorter than the rear, giving adequate coverage to the back of the jacket and minimizing bulk in the front. Moreover, like almost all Assos products, their signature grippers are an Assos-specific elastic that slips away from consciousness once placed in the correct location. This jacket is warm and comfortable. Undoubtedly, the 851 delivers a boat load of action with little bulk.

When sitting on a hanger the full PROness of the jacket is realized. The cut of the 851 mimics motorcycle leathers where the cut of the jacket is 100% business.

Junk in the Trunk
By far, my favorite attribute of the 851 is the ample pocket space in the back of the jacket. Honestly, I have backpacks with less storage space than this jacket. There are four rear pockets, which is a significant improvement over the traditional three pocket design and nearly laughable when compared to the single zipper pocket on some jackets. The pockets wrap around the back of the jacket placing two pockets back and center and then one pocket to each each side. Additionally, the right side pocket also includes a zipper for valuables that could be accidentally yanked from the pocket if intertwined with say, an Enervit bar or the headphones for your iPod. As a bonus, there is significant depth and roominess to the pockets making them highly functional. Pack a rain jacket, a spare tube, digital camera, iPod, and house keys and there remains enough room for a Thermos filled with strong coffee and half a bundt cake. It becomes easy to overpack. Throw in a reflective stripe and Assos proves this jacket means business.


The Little Things
Like a good cage match, with Assos, you can expect the most convincing blows to be thrown in the first round; this is accomplished with fit and feel, but with a dozen or so rides in the 851, I have begun to appreciate some of the minute details, those that keep you around. After all, it's the hook that grabs you and the barbs that keep you. The collar is roomy enough to be comfortable over base layers with collars, yet somehow Assos manages to keep it tight enough that there is never a draft. The zipper is a work of technical mastery; the teeth are large enough that zipping up or down with gloves on is easy and at the base of the zipper lies a reinforcement that hides the square edges of the zipper start and keeps you from bursting out on those early season rides when multiple base layers and Belgian beers really stress the jacket. Assos even utilizes this reinforcement to throw a little healthy advice your way: Sponsor Yourself.

At $330 the 851 is a huge investment. But winter is a tough time of year and the features of the 851 make riding outdoors that much better. When you consider the effectiveness of the jacket, and the ability to to forego some of the intermediate layers that make up your current winter wardrobe it becomes easier to justify. Even if it hadn't been a gift, I would have somehow, somewhere picked up the 851. If you're seeking a winter jacket and have room on a credit card, do yourself a favor and take the plunge. The 851 is to winter riding what a chaise lounge is to relaxing poolside. The 851 is the perfect companion for the cold and wind that is your off-season.

Paris Roubaix: A Journey Through Hell

Both victories began the same way. With a monster bridge up to a small group of leaders: Tete de La Course.

The suffering is unlike any I have felt before. The pain in my legs is overshadowed by the pain in my lower back. My teeth split small granules of the farmer's field as I close my mouth in search of relief from the dryness. My fingers are stiff like twigs and my eyes are searing from the swirling dust. I have the strength and the constitution to close the deal, to ride into the velodrome alone, with enough time on my rivals to adjust my jersey and to savor the moment. I ride the last 100 meters and my eyes well up, the tears begin to flow, I release the pain and suffering that has built up over the course of the day in a flood of emotions. I've received the ultimate gift from the Queen: the opportunity to call her my own for one year. My reward? A place in cycling history realized in the form of a plaque hung in the famous concrete showers.

As an adult, I don't dream the same way I used to. The dreams of flying replaced by dreams of losing my teeth and punching underwater. The stresses of adult life have squashed the youth right out of my slumber. However, over the month of December, I have on two occasions drifted off to sleep and awoke in the morning a winner of Paris Roubaix.

I attribute the victories to my time spent reading Paris Roubaix: A Journey Through Hell, the new book published by VeloPress. Paris Roubaix (PR) is a comprehensive collection of past and present race images and detailed accounts of its history, having more depth than most PR accounts.

The essence of the book can be felt as you lay it on your lap and begin to page through it. The cover image shows a lone rider, Johann Museeuw, in his prime and entrenched in the mud. You can just hear the cacophony of sounds screaming from the rabid fans. A yellow Lion of Flanders flag stands out as one of the only splashes of color on the cover (the mud muting all others). To a bookstore passerby, the cover image alone would pique the curiosity of the un-indoctrinated: The cover shot is an ode to the material contained inside, a photo capturing all the things that draws one to this race.

Inside, the history of the race is laid out in simple form making it easy to devour large portions of the book in single sittings. As a fanatic, I've spent far too much time studying the images of the world's greatest one day race, where many of the images have become icons: Tchmil's muddy 1994 victory, the view down "The Trench," and the crown of the cobbled farmers' paths that reveal cavernous gaps between the stones (those wide enough to swallow up an unsuspecting tourist!). The images in Paris Roubaix captures a humanistic perspective that draws in the reader and annotates the surrounding text.

Something about this book has grabbed me in a way no other cycling book ever has. Mind you, Philippe Brunel's 1996 An Intimate Portrait of the Tour De France spoke to me, but this book punched me so hard it knocked a tooth loose. The book is a refreshing look at the world's greatest one day race, a race that over the past years has been distilled to fit neatly in a series of thumbnails on a Web page. Images lacking depth and truth. A Journey Through Hell brings the race back to life, capturing the faces of the people who make the race what it is. From the PROs themselves to the police to the spectators, this book packs your lunch and drags you and your family out for a day at the races.

Immerse yourself in this great race and at the very least, sip an espresso at your local bookstore while thumbing through the pages.

Then, try walking out without purchasing a copy of your own.

Paris Roubaix: A Journey Through Hell
VeloPress 2007

Frank Vandenbroucke

VDB defines the Euro PRO look. If there's a style guide for the neo-pros in Europe, VDB wrote it. Whether it's his calf-high shoe covers, drop-top arm warmer style, the seemingly careless roll of the handle bars, or the ever-present sheen of the BKW, VDB embodies it all. And, of course, the dude is from the cycling capital of the world. Almost every team in the PRO Tour has offered him a spot at one time or another. Team Directors are willing to run the risk of hiring him because maybe, just maybe, he will show his brilliance again while on their watch.

VDB has unparalleled natural talent. In 1999, VDB showed the greatest promise of any of the neo-pros by winning Het Volk and Leige-Bastone-Leige. In fact, he won LBL with a style reminiscent of Babe Ruth by announcing before the race his plan of attack. Frank's talent is further evidenced by his performance at the Tour of Flanders in 2003. The dude shows up with fewer spring miles than a club cyclist, makes the break, and holds onto VanPetegem for second spot on the podium. Frank carries a natural talent; one that defines the sport. Just one look at VDB's position on the bike and his fluid riding style will make you green with envy. Frank was born to race bikes. Frank has been a teammate of almost every big name in recent cycling; mostly because he changes teams annually.

The 2007 season is wide open for Frank. With a new team (Aqua Sapone) and endless natural talent, the PRO world is VDB's oyster. "Come on Frank, one more time? Show the new guard how it's done."

Frank Vandenbroucke was originally posted on 12-6-06 and seemed like a good follow-up to the VDB video.

VDB

Cannondale CAAD 8

In November 2005, I filled out an employee purchase form for my first Cannondale. Sure, I had sold thousands of these oversized, U.S.-made gems to countless cyclists on both coasts and points in-between. However, even with all of my theoretical understanding of Cannondales, I had very little first-hand experience.

I had just sold my Look 585 and I was hoping to downsize the cost of the frame in an effort to purchase an SRM. Employee purchase price - $800: frame, fork, and FSA headset. I ordered the SRM at the same time. It cost 3X the price of the frame. This was to be an experiment, an attempt to learn first-hand what the SRM was all about. Two seasons later, the SRM is gone and CAAD8 remains my go-to bike.

The CAAD8 arrived four weeks later and it was a vision of practicality and functionality. The frame was brushed al-u-min-e-um with a clear coat. The tubes were classic Cannondale/Fosters: (largely oversized) with welds that were ground smooth. The decals were PRO-style (read: big and everywhere) and, aside from the legal disclaimer on the down tube, the bike looked the same as Cunego's: PRO. The fork had a classic curve to it: sexy, like the forks of yesterday and a trait that appears to be less common as the years go on. The fork was Cannondale's Premium and had alloy drop outs.

I promptly built the CAAD8 with a Record group, Classic wheels, and an SRM. It was fully equipped to handle the rough winter that lay ahead. I immediately packed the bike into a box and shipped it off to Massachusetts for my annual winter training camp. I spent hours and hours on it, alone, hammering the back roads and quaint villages of the New England seacoast. I spent most of my time pushing buttons on the SRM and watching the numbers. The bike was almost invisible, a trait I often equate with excellence. The ride was stiff; stiffer than the 585 vertically but laterally, the bikes stiffness reminded me of stepping off a loading dock. The BB was rigid and uncompromisingly stiff.

Following the winter camp, I arrived back home and eagerly joined my local group ride. I wanted to talk numbers with other power users and to see how the Cannondale rode in a group environment.

My experiences at this point were limited to solo rides on smooth country roads. The Cannondale had performed no better or worse than any other bike I had ridden. But when paired with 30 other eager roadies and let loose in a group setting, the CAAD8 unleashes a side of its personality that can only be defined as brutal and 100% business. To quote my pal BI, the bike becomes a weapon.

Cannondale has managed to capture the heart of a killer in a sweet and innocent package. Of course, the CAAD8 was the choice of Cunego (despite his access to the CAAD8's big brother, the SIX13) and for good reason, but when one compares the Cannondale's price tag to that of other PRO machines (Colnago, Pinarello, BMC) it can easily be dismissed as unable to deliver the soul and liveliness of these other, higher priced machines.

The stiffness generated in the BB would lead one to think the corresponding ride would be too stiff, abusing the rider and beating their kidneys into submission. However, Cannondale has blessed this bike with the ability to deliver a very comfortable ride, one that is not often associated with oversized aluminum. My longest ride on this bike hovers around 4.5 hours and, at this point, the ride has yet to leave me asking for relief. When paired with tubulars, the bike takes on an even greater degree of comfort.

When out of the saddle the CAAD8 begs for more, any effort put into the pedals is directly transferred into forward momentum, driving even a clincher tire to sing like a silk tubular. The stiffness of the BB is simply intoxicating. The bike begs you to train harder and to hit the weights in the off-season in an effort to build the very legs this bike deserves. Whether slamming closed a gap or shooting for the town line sprint, the Cannondale is as eager as a groom on his wedding night.

There is only one sensation from the CAAD8 that can rival its acceleration and that is cornering. I'd be selling the Cannondale short by suggesting anything less than taking one for a spin, but for the sake of this post, this is where the weapon analogy really takes hold. The Cannondale is like the friend in high school who was blessed with the ability to avoid trouble and injury, he always had a way of talking you into doing things you knew you'd regret. The Cannondale is simply fearless in turns. High speed sweepers or off camber 90º turns, the CAAD8 is up for it if you are. Go ahead, I dare you.

It may seem tough to believe that a bike could be so inexpensive and perfect at the same time. Well, there were some issues with the bike. Upon arrival, the clear coat was applied over some oxidation on the tubes, giving the creases and corners of the frame a smokey, black appearance. I recall thinking this must be a fact of the employee purchase price. But then again, an employee purchase would indicate the CAAD 8 would be leveraged to sell other Cannondales. Perfection should be a priority.

The other issue was the fork: the Premium fork was a constant source of concern for me in the early months because I was never able to adjust the HS and have it stay snug. After a couple of rides, the HS would work its way loose again. I pulled the fork and replaced it with a Premium+ I purchased from eBay. Apparently, the Premium+ was not available as an aftermarket option so gray market was my only choice. With the Premium+ installed, my problem was solved. Although, I am not one to believe a small change such as carbon drop outs vs. aluminum drop outs would affect the ride, but the Premium+ is a better riding fork. The Cannondale rep said the fork had a different carbon lay up, but I wasn't able to confirm this. My thought is that it's doubtful Cannondale would change the lay up of carbon for the Premium+ without sacking the fork with a "premium" price tag.


The CAAD8 has served me very well, better than most road bikes, the Cannondale has remained in my stable longer than any other production bike (barring my Bridgestones).

I have ridden the CAAD8 with Record, tubulars, clinchers, light wheels, heavy wheels, and with an SRM and without. The bike has been built in many a livery, most recently Dura Ace. Back in July of this year, following a brief Italian holiday, I cobbled the CAAD8 back together in an effort to perform a side-by-side comparision. A winner takes all competition that would pit the Cannondale against the Don from Cambiago. It was not about pride, or bragging rights, it was about money. More specifically, the 4k I had tied up in the Colnago. One weekend, one bike left standing.

My Cannondale enters season three in December.

Bring the Noyes - 1993 World Championships

Interbike is great way to see the latest and greatest, and any films from the gang at World Cycling Productions provides insight into the PRO peloton and the art of racing in the big leagues. Both, however, lack the depth and insight into what it means to be deep in the PRO world. Deep in the sense that you are living and breathing PRO cycling.

BKW recently caught up with veteran of the PRO ranks: journeyman, mechanic, and Belgian resident George Noyes, to discuss the subtleties that make the PRO circuit so enthralling.

About Mr. Noyes
George began his career in the mid-eighties as a team mechanic for the Schwinn PRO team, graduating to the International stage, and making his Tour/Classics debut with the 7-11 team. From there, George built on his experience and knowledge as head mechanic for the Motorola squad in the early 90s, a short stint at Cofidis, and then the mother of all Classics squads, Mapei. George’s professional experience included Andy Hampsten’s Giro win, Armstrong’s World’s victory, and complete and utter Mapei domination at the “Queen of the Classics,” Paris-Roubaix.

George has prepared machines for some of the 20th century’s greatest riders and lived the "behind the scenes" experience by which BKW is so captivated. Over a few espressos, George opened up about his experiences and, naturally, I probed him for information and a sense of what his life was like while working for these teams. Honestly, there was so much incredible information that came from our discussion that it would be impossible to compile it into a readable form in a single post. Therefore, based on the size of George's experience, I'll provide small vignettes that comprise George’s experiences. Some parts of our discussion dealt with the classics, others with the Grand Tours. A few times, we merely spoke in generalities, other times, in full swing with detailed accounts of the weeks, days, and hours leading up to the moments in PRO cycling that are burned into all of our memories. The title for these posts will be “Bring the Noyes” and, it's only fitting that I commence this series with a tale of LA’s World’s victory in a rain-soaked Oslo in 1993.

Oslo, Norway - August 29, 1993
Lance has always been a leader. Early in his career, LA's tough exterior and strategic mind were beginning to take shape, a glimpse of the road ahead perhaps. In the days leading up to the road race, Motorola's team management had exhaustively discussed race day tactics and without question, LA felt he had the legs to capture the rainbow jersey.

Motorola's staff and riders awoke to a steady rain the morning of August 29th. LA was to ride a Tennessee-built titanium bike for the day's event. George had prepared Lance's wheels and glued a fresh set of tubulars. The pressure for the day's rain: 7.5 bars (r) and 6.5 bars (f). As the mechanics feverishly prepared the team's machines, LA and Motorola DS Jim Ochowicz had come out to the service course to check on the bikes and the weather. Ochowicz was especially concerned about the weather, the rain, and the team's chances. The big issue for the mechanics focused on LA's bottle cages. Apparently, the threaded inserts that held the bottle cage into the frame would not tighten properly and both cages were rattling. There was risk they would fire off mortar-style, mid-race. With the start approaching rapidly, one of the mechanics disappeared into the hotel to seek out a solution. He returned a bit later with four, self-tapping screws; the kind an old ski binding would use to mount to a ski. (In fact, they were the very hardware that held the hotel owner's bindings to his skis!) The four simple screws were forced into the frame, securing the bottle cages to the frame. (Rumor has it the hotel owner had no idea that the screws from his skis had been carried to a World's victory. That is, until his ski holiday was brought to an abrupt close mid-run. Apparently the screws never made it back to his skis.)

As George applied the finishing touches to LA's machine, Ochowicz and LA continued to discuss the weather and the team's chances and George was treated to a front row seat, which made him privy to a defining moment in LA's career. In fact, in hindsight the comment seems so telling: As Ochowicz expressed his concerns for the weather, LA with an air of coolness and simplicity, reassured Ochowicz by saying, "Let me handle it." In 1993, LA knew he had the mind to be a legend, it was only a matter of time before he began to lay the groundwork. Hours to be exact.

Check back soon for the next Bring the Noyes installment where George and team management destroy the "A" team car on the Friday before PR.

Photo Courtesy: JS

A Sean Kelly Drinking Song

It's the off season and you can afford a beer. Not just any beer, a proper Irish beer: a Guinness stout.

Suffering

The fine art of suffering (in this case, pushing the body and mind to its limits) is often what separates the top ranks of professional cycling from the... the rest of the peleton. Smart training, good nutrition, and natural talent, all aspects of a PRO's season, only go so far. At the point, where a PRO has exceeded each, the race turns itself over to the rider who is willing to suffer the most.

No Time to Fork Around

We’ve been hearing a persistent rumor that Quick Step-Innergetic riders rode Specialized Tarmacs with Time forks this spring. We decided to check in with the folks in Morgan Hill to get the inside scoop. Nic Sims, Specialized’s media relations chief admitted yes, some riders—fewer than half the team—did ride Tarmacs with Time forks. When the team’s riders and officials were interviewed about the choice (Specialized wasn’t what you’d call thrilled) and what they could do to get the riders on their forks, the team said they needed a stiffer fork.

Specialized ordered some of the Time forks in question for testing. What they found was that their fork was no less stiff than Time’s. It is safe to assume that some readers will view this assessment with some suspicion, so we asked Sims to what degree the fact that Specialized’s American identity might be at the root of the rider’s mistrust of the fork. Sims says, “We constantly have to prove we have a right to sponsor a team like Quick Step. We are constantly proving the quality of our products to their riders. They are Belgian and have been doing things their way for many years; so it is hard for us to enter what they see as their sport, it is with the help of Mario Cipollini and more recently Lance Armstrong that American companies are now being regarded as some of the best bikes in the peloton.”

When asked if riders might have been afraid of the Specialized fork for no reason other than their unfamiliarity with it, Sims says, “Yes, we think that’s a big part of it.” Even so, they weren’t bothered by the riders’ request for a stiffer fork. “We have to do whatever we can to keep the spotlight on those riders by enabling them to win races. They use us to win. We use them to develop products. It’s a good trade.”

By summer, Tom Boonen and the other riders who most needed a stiffer fork were on Tarmac SL2s. Sims says that thanks to the beefed up blades and 1.5” steerer diameter at the crown, Specialized is confident Quick Step can’t find a stiffer fork anywhere.

Increased stiffness isn’t limited to just the fork. While all riders started on stock Tarmacs, the vast majority of the Quick Step team are on bikes with custom layups. The riders start with the stock bike and if they say it’s not stiff enough, they get a choice of two stiffer layups. The “basic stiff” (World Champion Paolo Bettini’s choice) weighs a bit more than the stock frame while the “extra stiff” (Boonen’s choice) is a bit more still.

Sims says one of the biggest challenges in working with Quick Step has been trying to respond in an efficient way to riders’ requests. You never want to keep a pro waiting for equipment, but communication isn’t ever simple. In the case of Paolo Bettini, measurements the Specialized staff received indicated the 52cm frame would be perfect for him. Bettini was given a 52. End of story, right? Not quite. Bettini took one look and said, “But with this bike I can’t ride use my 14cm stem.” So he rides a 49cm frame and runs a 14cm stem. Go figure.

The bike pictured above was specially painted for Bettini in the wake of his other bike being stolen. We’re told he sleeps with it in his hotel room.

Photo courtesy: Specialized.

The PROfessor

In 1992, I had the opportunity to meet Laurent Fignon when he and the Gatorade/Bianchi team visited for a local road race. I was working in my father's shop at the time, and through some local connections, we became the ship-to location and HQ for the Gatorade/Bianchi team.

The race was scheduled for Saturday and on Thursday the team machines poured into the shop, fresh from Europe and still warm from the gentle hands of Customs. The shop's sales floor was dotted with tasty treats from the PRO peloton as the Gatorade/Bianchi team mechanics arrived. The mechanics carried with them their traditional travel tool case, filled with the hand tools of their profession, all neatly packaged for the relentless travel of the PRO season.

I will never forget the days the PROs came to town. We worked side-by-side with the mechanics to prepare the machines and the equipment for the team: we housed the team travel bags and some of the riders’ team gear and, as the bikes were prepared, they were rolled out of the shop and into the sales area to await their owners. At 10 AM, Fignon and his teammates arrived at the shop, and despite the summer temps, they arrived dressed in tights and long sleeve jerseys and sandals. Each carried their cycling shoes in small travel shoe bags. By 11 AM, the team mounted their machines and rolled out for a spin with a few of the shop's select customers in tow. The ride headed north, following the route we knew as the "Executive Route" (named this because it abutted the side roads and was less conducive to the fisticuffs rides of the weekend and better-suited for idle chat and a gentlemen's pace). A water bottle and a banana into the ride, we neared the turnaround point. Fignon and his team rolled to a stop behind my father, who was leading the guests when one of the local riders coasted into the back of Fignon's bike, throwing himself onto the ground in a whirlwind of apologies and embarrassment.

When my father tells this story, his expressions and body language mimic the Frenchman's response to accurately capture the moment. As he describes it, Fignon casually looks over his shoulder at the fallen rider and, with a look of dismay, simply shrugs his shoulders and with complete PROness rolls off leaving the dejected rider laying on the pavement.

Once the dusty, but uninjured, rider caught up with the group, he rode alongside my father and began to weave an apology. My father looks over and replies, "You just crashed into "The Professor." Don't talk to me, I don't know you."

The ride back to the shop was less eventful: there were no more crashes and no international incidents.

Following the ride, the PROs and the team mechanics were eager to dig into some American culture and began to shop the Pearl Izumi inventory. It was surreal. The PROs bought so much Pearl clothing filling their backpacks with the Pearl Izumi Dot Glove and the Thermal Lobster Claw while the mechanics bought the two remaining neon orange full-suspension Trek 9000s we had in stock. We could barely give those bikes away but the mechanics were delighted when we offered them some industry courtesy selling them the bikes at wholesale. The pinnacle was sitting down to lunch together, the team mechanics, the PROs, Fignon, our shop cat Tullio, and the shop employees to toss back some McD’s at the request of our guests.

Sharing a Big Mac with Fignon is certainly on my personal short list of great cycling moments.