For most riders I know, the season begins with the sluggish pace of an early morning. Those first rides are spent as if we were wiping the sleep from our eyes. We pile on the base miles and our bleary legs gradually stir.
So too, does our seriousness for the sport. As if jolted by a shot of caffeine, we realize that dessert must, well, we must at least cut back. Maybe that second beer or glass of wine isn’t quite so necessary. We can’t miss any days this week if we’re going to be fit in time for the rendezvous. We’re on the PROgram.
The PROgram is a system, a coordinated effort that begins with a mindset of seriousness that only others who willingly sacrifice life’s pleasures may understand. We recognize that achievement is the result of nothing so much as hard work, that the existentialists got it right when they realized, as Bruce Cockburn sang, “Nothing worth having comes without some kind of fight.”
And so the PROgram is a siege. It is undertaken with full knowledge that no matter how much we want the result now, no force of will “can alter time, speed up the harvest or …” nevermind. It’s not happening today; there will be no new you is six weeks.
We speak of the life as monastic; it has much in common with religion, for it does require daily devotion. The PROgram instills in us a set of values, guides us in our actions, differentiates between the good miles and the junk miles and creates an arc to each day, week and month. There is a similarity to the circular nature of our routines and many prayer cycles. And like the religious, as we see the benefits, we become more devout.
Beyond the base miles, we move through that first build phase and toward the first tests. It’s midterm all over again, but this time, we look forward to it. We seek the results, but they are little more than a treat, a dessert at the end of a good meal. We say the PROgram is only a method, a system, but the fact is while we think of it as a means to an end, rather than an end in itself, to suggest that we only pursue the program for the form is to imply that we’d really rather not suffer. And if that were the case, we wouldn’t tell the stories of miles spent in misery, the utter horror we feel if we realize we’re not closing a gap, the amount of lactic burn to which we willingly subject ourselves. If we didn’t love the suffering, the very endeavor of the training, we’d have given up long ago.
There is no mistaking the way form satisfies. But the best lessons we learn come in those moments when the outcome isn’t certain. They come in the day’s great challenge when we muster, moments that may have occurred kilometers before the ending. Sitting up in triumph isn’t the victory. Living the PROgram is the victory.
Photo courtesy John Pierce, Photosport International
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
The PROgram
Friday, February 8, 2008
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.
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
Thursday, October 11, 2007
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.
Tuesday, October 9, 2007
Panache
There’s a good reason why the French like their champions. They won with style. The two most recent (if you can call it that) French Tour winners, Bernard Hinault and Laurent Fignon, didn’t win a quiet Tour. They won time trials and in the mountains. Hinault wasn’t afraid to go after a sprint or two, either.
If there was one aspect of Miguel Indurain that the French (and others) didn’t like, other than his being Spanish, was how his Tour wins were dominant, but never stylish. You almost never saw him attack in a show of force meant to do nothing so much as intimidate. Were it not for Hinault’s incredible force of will, as evidenced by his ability to intimidate, he would likely only have won four Tours.
At first, the French loved Lance Armstrong. That he attacked viciously and used his efforts to win and put an alpha-male stamp on the race had all of France clamoring for the cancer survivor. His invincibility is what turned their love to disdain and near revulsion; for some, the accusations of doping were just used as justification for how they felt.
And sometimes, the greatest moves don’t even result in wins. In 1995, the first year the Vuelta a Espana was held in September, Laurent Jalabert was dominating the race as only Eddy Merckx could. One French magazine ran a cartoon showing Jalabert passing close to finish-line barricades and signing autographs “Jaja” as he passed. In one mountain stage he dropped his companions only to reel in Telekom’s Bert Dietz within the final half kilometer. “Jaja” passed Dietz, sat up, and then waived for him to get on his wheel. Twenty meters from the line he pulled off, sat up and let Dietz take the win. Afterward, Dietz said he would repay the gift by never riding against Jalabert, no matter what his team asked. A true champion knows when to throw a bone.
Looking back over this year’s season, one move stands out as a win for the ages: Fabian Cancellara’s win on Stage 3 of the Tour de France. Sure, the yellow jersey sometimes wins a stage, but those stages are usually either time trials or mountain finishes. The maillot jaune might win a sprint stage only if he is a sprinter and the Tour is in its first week. Given that none of those conditions were true for Cancellara—he is a time trialist—and his original motivation to ride at the front was only to protect his yellow jersey for another day, that he even rode on the front so late in the stage was incredible. That he dropped the sprinters was stunning. That he caught the break seemed unbelievable. That he passed them and took the stage was a shock beyond belief. Was anyone in the world still seated when he took the “V”? Can you name a better move this year?
Thursday, October 4, 2007
The Flying Scotsman
Stop and think for a moment: What is your favorite cycling film ever? Is it “A Sunday in Hell?” Or perhaps “American Flyers?” Lord knows it’s not “Pee-wee's Big Adventure” or “Quicksilver.” There’s a new contender for the title. Chances are you haven’t seen “The Flying Scotsman,” the dramatization of the life of Graeme Obree. The script takes as its starting point Obree’s confessional “Flying Scotsman: Cycling to Triumph Through My Darkest Hours.” It covers his hour record, World Championship and later suicide attempt. In broad strokes it contains all the dramatic elements of a varied life.
The film documents one of the greatest David and Goliath matches ever, and it took place on the bike. Obree is David. Goliath is played, alternately, by the UCI, Chris Boardman and Obree’s own demons.
The cast is first rate. Johnny Lee Miller (“Trainspotting”) plays Obree, Billy Boyd (“Lord of the Rings”) plays his manager and Brian Cox (“The Bourne Supremacy,” “Deadwood,” and “Troy,” among others). In addition to an excellent cast, the cinematography is great and the sound very clear—the actors even toned down their accents for the sake of the audience. The soundtrack is inspiring enough that it might find its way into the odd iPod.
From the first mention of mental illness (Obree is bipolar), Obree says most folks dismissed him as a “nutter.” He much prefers discussing his cycling exploits. Revealing the full extent of his depression and mental illness in the book wasn’t easy. “I wasn’t keen to have all that from a personal point of view. It’s the last thing you want to share with anybody.” Many stories in the press painted him as a comical character; as a result, he’s been wary of mainstream press, and yet, he says, “Most of the letters were from people who said, “Your story helped me.’”
Obree is quick to point out that the film is a dramatization and that many events are as he puts them, “amalgamations.” In Hollywood speak, they are called “conflations” and these reductions of events are a source of irritation to those who prefer the actual facts but utterly necessary to the director trying to shoot a simple-to-follow story.
“We [he and his wife Anne] didn’t have a lot of involvement in the script.” He was, however, involved in the shooting on an almost daily basis. “We were around most of the time. I was a technical director.” In addition to doing the velodrome riding, Obree piloted the point-of-view camera bike. “A fantastic insight into the world of filmmaking. That was excellent fun that was.”
It’s easy to get caught up in the frustration of the UCI’s rules-to-suit-the-minute approach. Obree is more sanguine about it these days. “If he [the UCI’s Hein Verbruggen] hadn’t behaved so badly I wouldn’t be so well known. I think he is hung up on homogeneity; he is a traditionalist. He wants bikes not to get talked about.”
Naturally, Obree’s view is a little different is different from Verbruggen’s. “The set up is part of the sport. It’s a big deal in motorsports. How they set up the motorcycles varies from rider to rider. They [the UCI] need to find something to do. It justifies their existence. Shows they have a job to do and are justifying their paychecks. It wasn’t personal. It was the wrong position at the wrong time. In retrospect I realize I’d sunk into a comfort zone. The UCI forced me to continue to find a better position.”
And so it is that Graeme Obree, the athlete who was the very bane of the UCI’s existence, credits the man who made it his mission in life to keep Obree from racing to his full potential with innovating another new—and faster—position. The Superman position was adopted by other riders almost immediately after Obree debuted it in competition. “Emulation is the greatest form of compliment. But there is no greater compliment than to be banned. It was fast enough to get banned.”
Asked what he thinks the film’s greatest achievement is, be it the portrayal of addressing his depression, the hour record, the world championships (and world record), Obree points to the change in his psychology overnight between his first attempt on the hour record and his second the next morning. Of the first attempt he says, “I was thinking, Jeez this is it, Moser’s record. I was kind of pensive.” The film’s great statement is about self belief. “It’s about overcoming adversity. That’s a different person out there the next day. (I said) I’m going to get up tomorrow and break that record.”
Obree still rides a fair amount and is competitive when time allows. He volunteers that he twice beat the current British time trial champ early this season, before publicity for the film siphoned off much of his free time. And that balance is the source of his real drive these days. Obree fully appreciates how difficult balancing a job, a marriage and parenting along with the drive to be a competitive cyclist is. In addition to refurbishing a house and building some bedroom furniture, he has undertaken to write a training manual. Only this book will be different he says. “It’s meant for the cyclist who has a full life, is a father, has a job and still wants to compete. It’s about how to be fast and fit it all in.”
“The Flying Scotsman” is now available on DVD. For those who wish to get the full scoop on his hour records, World Championships and journey back to light, pick up his autobiography (available from VeloPress).
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Bontrager Talks CX
“It will take them a few years to know what they are screaming about, but it will work out eventually.” -Keith Bontrager
Keith Bontrager is an industry legend. He has probably spent more R&D hours designing and riding products than any other US builder. It’s no wonder that the CX world has a ton of respect for Keith and his thoughts on all things cyclocross. Back in September of 2004, long time BKW pal ZD had a chance to ask Keith some questions.
ZD: I read the interview you did with Cycling News a month or so ago and it you mentioned your personal "cross bike" a few different times. What are you riding now and how is it set up?
KB: I've got 3 cross bikes.
#1 is an old steel Japanese touring frame with cantilever bosses on it. It works great but it's a little heavy and will be easy to kill in a crash since it is brazed. I do long slow-ish rides on it and race it in the mud.
#2 is an old Bontrager cross bike. It's cooler, lighter, and much stronger than #1 and I ride it the most.
#3 is an Empella aluminum cross bike which is the lightest and the one I like to race the most.
All are set up very simply with old road and MTB parts, 8 speed trannys, and Avid brakes. That's one of the beautiful things about a cross bike. It doesn't need to have the latest stuff to be a good, fast, fun bike. I use flat bars most of the time. I can't get comfortable on drops anymore because of my back and I am always faster in technical stuff with them anyway. I have some custom 50 cm wide dropped bars that are pretty good though and I might try them again this year.
All these bikes can have very, very trick wheels, XXX lite carbon wheels left over from Postal pad development with 32mm Tufo tubies and a new tubeless clincher set up that rules (unless it blows a tire off the rim - it's work in progress). Most of the time I ride low cost heavy clinchers so I don't beat the good ones unnecessarily.
ZD: A few years ago when it seemed like every manufacture rushed to market with a cross bike, there was a lot of talk about how a pure cross bike should be set up as it relates to bottom bracket height. When you think of a cross bike designed for domestic cross races, (rather than commuting and utility) what have you found to be the best set up for bottom bracket height off the ground?
KB: The BB height on these bikes is between 10.75 (Empella) and 11.5 (Bontrager) and it depends on the tires in each case. We used to build with very high BBs when riders still used toe clips, but that's history. The Empella handles like a slot car on twisty courses. I like low bikes.
ZD: The state of the cyclocross racing scene seems alive this year with the promise of the newly formed Gran Prix of Cyclocross. To what extent do you feel cyclocross racing will be here to stay?
KB: The future of Cyclocross doesn't depend on big events. It's here to stay no matter what. The big races are cool because we all get to see the fastest athletes compete and they get paid a little better if they win. They are very cool when they are in some urban setting where non-cyclists can wander up and see the racers hauling ass around a city park or something. The nats in the Presidio a few years ago were amazing in that respect.
ZD: You are a bicycle tire guru. You have been developing and testing bike tires for years. Where do your cross tires excel as compared to other cross tires on the market? What other cross tires do you like?
KB: Bontrager cross tires are good on relatively hard packed fast courses. They work great in Santa Cruz (imagine that...) and other places with hard packed dry conditions. Michelin Mud and Jet tires are good in the right circumstances.
I like to ride tubulars (especially on the light carbon wheels) but the tread designs are pretty lame, good copies of bad 20 year old designs. They have good straight ahead traction but do not corner well. It would be great if someone developed a good tubular with a modern tread design that didn't cost a fortune, but you'd end up giving away more to friends than you sold if you did.
Having said that, if these tubeless clincher configurations work out it might make the decision simple for anyone except sponsored pros. Decent tires at 50 psi or lower can make a tricky course much easier to ride fast, and the risk of pinch flats goes way down.
ZD: You've always been a big advocate of making sure the trail of your bicycles was as good as it could be. When you think of a cross bike as it relates to trail, what figure do you target? Would you change the trail from a typical road bike set-up for your cross bike?
KB: I didn't tweak cross geometry too much. Danny Nall loaned me some of his old Eurocrossers 20 years ago and I copied them. I forgot the brand - they were Swiss I think. There is not much to it really. It's the rider, right?
ZD: I've probably watched the 2001 Cross Worlds tape in Zolder about 50 times. I still can't get over the amount of spectators lined up in the woods cheering for their favorite racer. In some ways, cross is the most spectator-friendly format of nearly all the cycling disciplines with the exception of track racing. What do you think prevents cross racing in the US from being as big as it is in Belgium?
KB: Serve some good beer and frites at a cross race (legally) and you will quickly fill the woods with raving fans. It will take them a few years to know what they are screaming about, but it will work out eventually.
Photo Courtesy: Keith Bontrager
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
PRO is PROGRAM GO!
The cycling cap is a staple in a PRO cyclist's wardrobe; fashion and function go hand-in-hand when discussing its merits. Like the sun, the position of the cap differs throughout the season, sitting high in peak summer and low in the spring. The cap is so versitile that it can provide shade from the sun and rain, catch sweat on hot days, and provide a thin layer for the top of your head when the Mutt is just too hot.
Back in the day there was a local rider named Phil who sat on the bike like a PRO, wore his glasses like a PRO, and could even sport the cap like the utter PROfessional. Phil could wear the cap with the best of them. But not everyone can pull it off. This simple accessory can very easily separate riders into the PRO or NO catagory. For example, Matt White: PRO category. Although often overlooked by the photogs, Matt has come to epitomize the spring cap style. Matt is ever-present in the Classics and quietly does his job, working his ass off for bigger name riders. Matt goes for the low, over-the-ears style to help keep his ears warm.
Friday, August 3, 2007
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Thursday, July 19, 2007
Wild Card
You've got to hand it to a team that arrives at Le Tour on a wild card entry and then goes on to put the smack down. Here's to the little team that could.
Photo Courtesy: Barloworld
Monday, July 2, 2007
Thursday, June 14, 2007
Monday, May 14, 2007
PRO is PROGRAM GO!
Deep section carbon wheels deliver amazing performance and define the modern PRO style, however, some also come with an annoyance: a clicking sound that seems to present itself over rough surfaces. I have traced this noise to the valve and the resonating click, which comes from the valve snapping against the carbon valve hole. I tried numberous times to address this sound, both on my Reynolds Stratus tubulars and my Cosmic Carbone PROs, but it was the delicate touch of a PRO mechanic that provided the ultimate solution. At the 2005 Interbike show, I was treated to an up-close and personal view of Thor Hushovd's Look 585, fresh from his 2005 season. Among the PROness, I noticed one small, but amazingly simple PRO mechanic fix for my valve problem: electrical tape. A single piece of electrical tape is placed perpendicularly with the rim; it's pierced by the valve and adhered to either side of it.
From that moment on, this is how I roll.
