Saturday, May 27, 2023

Biased Blow-By-Blow - 2023 Giro d’Italia Stage 20

Introduction

This has been a super exciting Giro d’Italia, with most of the hard mountain stages crammed into the final week. With just today’s time trial remaining (and tomorrow’s silly flat course for the sprinters), the general classification is remarkably tight: Geraint Thomas (Ineos Granadiers) leads the race, with Primoz Roglic (Team Jumbo-Visma) just 26 seconds behind him, and Joao Almeida (UAE Team Emirates) rounding out the virtual podium, only 33 seconds behind Roglic. So why am I waiting for a boring-as-fuck time trial to finally post a blow-by-blow report? It’s complicated. (For some reason “complicated” seems to be the favorite word of the cycling announcers this year, especially cycling legend Sean Kelly, e.g., “I have a feeling this finish is going to get a bit complicated.”)

But don’t worry, I’m here now, and I’ll give you a recap of the last three weeks as we go along. In fact, I’ll give it right now: all you need to know is that the pre-race favorite, Remco Evanepoel, won the first time trial, took the pink jersey, and then promptly came down with COVID and abandoned. Since then, no particular rider or team has stood out, and the GC has been so close that no single stage had any particular importance. So it all comes down to this time trial.

But this isn’t just any time trial. Look at this crazy course profile:


It’s a good thing for that final climb (almost 3,000 feet of gain!), and for the GC being so close, because I’m going to start this report without coffee. We have houseguests and only one bathroom so I dare not get my, uh, system running just yet. These are the sacrifices I make to bring you unvarnished, no-tongue-bitten reports on these heroic riders and their dorky helmets.

Giro d’Italia Stage 20 - Tarvisio to Monte Lussari Tudor, 18.6 km (11.6 miles)

As I join the action, an amazing thing happens: three riders pull almost even! It’s not uncommon, this late in a Grand Tour, for a rider to overtake the one who started before him in a time trial, but two passes at once is almost unheard of.


Oh. Wait. That’s not what’s going on. I’m confused. It’s the lack of coffee, I guess. This appears to be some kind of previous footage, some replay of an earlier stage. Jose Azevedo is being interviewed about Almeida. “I guess he’s a dedicated rider, but he never did his dishes,” Azevedo says. “As for his chances today, how should I know? I’m just his old college roommate.” All right, I made that up. I haven’t sorted my audio out yet. Azevedo is probably Almeida’s directeur sportif. And come to think of it he’s a former pro racer too. So they brought him in to pass the time before the GC leaders are on the road. Man these time trials are boring.

Among the few hopefuls for a stage win, Rohan Dennis (Team Jumbo-Visma) is in action, getting a totally illegal push from a team staffer. I don’t know how he thinks he’ll get away with this. It’s probably all over YouTube already.


Dennis has been a great support for his team leader, Roglic, despite being added to the Giro roster at the last minute. He’s a bit of a nutter, having been released from Bahrain-Victorious a few years back for refusing to start a Tour de France time trial because they couldn’t get his bike just right. He’s like the kid who owns the marbles and takes them and goes home when he starts to lose. So it’s no wonder he thinks he’s allowed to get a push. If he’s not disqualified, I think he has an outside chance at winning this stage, because he’s an awesome time trialist and he won the Mount Diablo stage of the Tour of California one year so he’s no slouch at climbing.

Okay, I was just messing with you about the illegal push. As with the World Time Trial Championships a few years back when it featured a giant climb, the organizers are allowing riders to switch bikes at the base of the climb. They’re allowed to receive a push until they cross a strip of tape on the road.

Here’s Jay Vine (UAE Team Emirates) doing his bike change.


Vine has ridden heroically for Almeida, pacing him until the very final kilometers of a couple of the big mountain stages.

Michel Hessman (Jumbo-Visma) clearly couldn’t care less about this time trial. Not only is he moving his bike computer over to the climbing bike, but he’s stopping for a little chat with his team staffer. “This model [of computer] has an average power reading which I like, though I miss the lap timer,” he’s saying. “Um, dude, shouldn’t you get going?” his pal replies.


Okay, things are looking up: my houseguests, probably annoyed that I didn’t make them any coffee, have apparently left in a huff, so I can finally use the bathroom. They’re from Europe, so they don’t understand about my blog and really don’t care about the Giro. I know this is exactly the opposite of what we would expect, but in fact I’ve never met a single European who gives a rat’s ass about cycling. Sometimes they want me to explain American football to them.

The commentators are interviewing some random “expert” about who he thinks will win the stage. This is how they try to keep viewers awake, but it almost always backfires. “I think Primoz Roglic will win today,” the rando says, “and while I’ve got your attention, have you ever noticed how in the movies when a character has a gun, he always holds it in his left hand? Watch for that. It’s weird. My nephew is an artist and drew this picture you see over my shoulder. But it’s of a starting pistol. I’m not a gun nut like some crazy American.”


Wow! Amazing! Something is happening! Santiago Buitrago (Bahrain Victorious) has thrown his chain!


Poor guy. I feel bad for his mechanic, as well. If the mechanic doesn’t have the decency to commit seppuku, surely his boss will flog him mercilessly.

Okay, a fast rider is starting his ride: it’s Einer Rubio (Movistar Team), who won Stage 13 of this Giro in fine style. He was in a three-up breakaway with Thibault Pinot (Groupama-FDJ) and … gosh, some other guy, I can’t remember. Pinot and the other guy kept yelling at each other and launching these pissy little attacks, like teenage girls slapping each other, and each time Rubio would just claw his way back on. I was watching with my brother and said, “Wouldn’t it be great if Rubio ended up sucker-punching these guys at the end and winning?” Which he did, launching exactly one attack, all-in, right at the end when it mattered. What a stud. Here’s a fun fact: Rubio doesn’t need cycling for an income, being the heir to an American fast-food taqueria chain. (Yes, of course I’m bullshitting.)

Here’s Vine higher on the climb. Wow, what a badass road. I freaking love it.


Vine is going well, but not as well as his teammate Brandon McNulty, who won a stage earlier in this Giro. ‘Mer’ca!

Lennard Kamna (Bora-Hansgrohe), last year’s Giro champion, hasn’t had the best form this year, as he sits eighth, almost six minutes down. What’s worse, I’ve deliberately grabbed a really unflattering screenshot of him. Poor guy just can’t get a break.


Vine flies across the line and has the new fastest time so far! That doesn’t change the fact that his helmet is ridiculous. On that basis, I don’t have his back. At all.


They just flashed up the current standings and there are three Americans in the top ten, with McNulty still out on the road. That’s pretty remarkable, though at least a couple will be pushed out as faster riders come through. Needless to say these top guys don’t make nearly as much money as a run-of-the-mill American football player, but at least concussions aren’t part of their job description.

This is weird: Allessandro De Marchi (Team Jayco Alula) has a runny nose and a fan has handed him the largest handkerchief I have ever seen. He better make sure it doesn’t go into his spokes.


Daaaamn, McNulty is finishing strong! He’ll take the lead by a huge margin!


As he reaches the finish line, he’s so cross-eyed he almost plows into some drunken spectator who has wandered into the road!


You’d think security would be a bit tighter here. Sheesh. Oh, wait, it’s not a spectator, it’s a staffer dressed like the kind of dork you meet at a suburban nightclub, or at traffic school. Anyway, McNulty now has the lead by a whopping 46 seconds over his teammate, Vine.

UAE now has four riders in the top ten. Interesting.

Damiano Caruso (Bahrain Victorious) is in the start house. He’s wearing one of those silly band-aids on his nose. His four-year-old daughter asked him to wear it. She’s superstitious. Yeah, I made that up. In reality he probably cut himself shaving. Anyway, he’s a good rider and sits fourth on GC.


OMG, they’re saying Sepp Kuss (Team Jumbo-Visma) has a faster split than McNulty! Kuss has been an absolute hero during this Giro, pacing Roglic on all the important climbs and totally saving his bacon when Thomas and Almeida attacked in stage 16 and opened a gap. Kuss expertly paced his leader and held the loss to under 30 seconds. He’s been amazingly strong all week.

Oh my god. Roglic’s helmet is the dumbest I’ve seen so far.


Just look at that stupid thing. Has Roglic learning nothing since he threw away the 2020 Tour de France during its last time trial, when he not only lost his overall lead of almost a minute but also all of his dignity, as his terrible time trial helmet crept up on his head like a half-ping-pong-ball straddling a potato? He looked so terrible that afterward some cruel journalist—quizzing him about the most spectacular Tour loss since Fignon in ’89—asked about the helmet and Roglic replied simply, “Let’s not talk about the helmet.”

Thomas is about to start. His helmet is pretty goofy too. What do these guys think they are … downhill ski racers? Puh-leeease.


Here’s one of those touching human interest stories. This rider is rocking a head scarf, even though it’s a warm day, because his mom warned him it’s windy today and he could get an earache.


Whoa, Kuss is flying! It would be so cool if he won today … he’s got stage wins in the Tour and the Vuelta, but none yet in the Giro. He’s just had to slave for Roglic day after day despite having amazing form. Look at him go!


As Kuss goes for the line he’s actually grinning! It’s not the standard death rictus, but an actual grin! He knows he’s killing it!


And Kuss has got the new provisional best time, with only fourteen riders still on the road.


Roglic gets his bike change, and—I’m not kidding—the announcer says, “Bike change goes without a hitch, and his helmet isn’t slipping off the back of his head.” Seriously! He said that! An announcer after my own heart!


The Balaclava Kid heads for the line. Note the symmetry between his dorky helmet and the picture on his sleeve of Napoleon’s hat.


Thomas gets a very slow bike change. I think he may be a bit of a moron. He rode up toward the new bike from the left side, and dismounted on the left of his bike, meaning the bike he was discarding was in between him and the bike he was switching to. Super, super awkward. He also wastes some time getting a fresh helmet, presumably because his pads were getting a little sweaty and he didn’t like it.


Thomas comes through the time check having lost two seconds to Roglic, whose helmet is still hanging on beautifully.

It’s kind of a shame larger gaps aren’t opening up between these two. This time trial looks like it might be as boring as they usually are. Wouldn’t it be cool if the organizers let a giant herd of sheep out onto the road? And then maybe send out after them some herding dogs that are high on cocaine? Just mix things up a bit?

Laurens de Plus (Ineos Granadiers) finishes strong. He has been an amazing domestique for Thomas in this Giro, slaying himself endlessly at the front, always with this same dippy expression, to the point that I’ve actually grown tired of looking at him.


Andreas Leknessund (Team DSM), who had worn the maglia rosa for a number of days, finishes pretty well but man, he looks like he’s seen a ghost!


What happened out there? What did he see out there on the course? Some kind of demon changeling child? Is he hallucinating?

Yikes, what’s this? Pinot is hauling ass, even while disrupting his aerodynamics by letting his tongue flap around in the wind!


And now he retracts his tongue, as if reading my mind, and is richly rewarded with the fastest finish yet, six seconds ahead of Kuss! This will seal his lead in the King of the Mountains category.


Meanwhile, on the lower slopes, Thomas has now lost 14 seconds to Roglic!

But, OMG! Roglic has a problem!


It’s a disaster! He’s dropped his chain!


WTF?! The announcer is saying Roglic hit a big pothole and that caused his chain to come off. My god, he must be so pissed. Unbelievable. His bike is sporting the one-by configuration popular among mountain bikers (i.e. just a single front chainring). I have long felt this isn’t the best setup because a front derailleur actually does a pretty good job of keeping the chain on. One of the high school mountain bikers I coached lost her first Varsity race due to a thrown chain in the last quarter-mile (yes, with a one-by). What a drag for Roglic! But hey, this time trial just suddenly got really exciting! Roglic gets his chain back on and resumes his frantic charge up the mountain.


Lower on the course, Thomas is just absolutely hemorrhaging time. It’s unbelievable—he’s waited until the last real stage to finally have a bad day. But it just doesn’t seem like he could possibly lose enough time, what with Roglic’s mechanical problem, to lose the Giro … could he?


Caruso is flying, and his suffering is written all over his face!


Caruso is one of those riders who I think is doped, but I can’t help liking him anyway. Such a blue-collar vibe, a real salt-of-the-earth working man. And it looks like he’s got the new provisional best time!

But Almeida goes through 13 seconds quicker than Caruso, also suffering like a (cocaine-fueled herder) dog!


And now Roglic approaches the line, putting out a blistering pace that will give him a stage win, at least! Best of all, he’s shed his big stupid visor … I hope it broke when it hit the asphalt.


And Roglic indeed has the best time! He doesn’t look exactly jubilant, of course, but I can’t blame him.


He has absolutely shattered the previous best time, but could he actually take the GC, even with at least ten seconds lost for his mechanical?

Oh my goodness, Thomas is just dying out there. It’s painful to watch … he’s clearly had the stuffing knocked out of him. His time is pretty poor and as he approaches the line—it’s just a total nail-biter.


They’re showing Roglic’s teammates … they’re on pins and needles.


Thomas crosses the line, and he looks to be over 26 seconds down!


The announcers are doing the math (or “the maths” as they put it) and, It’s unbelievable, but Thomas has actually lost the Giro on the final (real, non-parade) stage, despite Roglic having an incredible bit of bad luck!

It’s all jubilation in the Jumbo-Visma camp, needless to say…


Roglic looks truly moved. I hope that after tomorrow’s stage, a mere formality, he can reflect on this amazing achievement and, just as importantly, eat a big sandwich and a milkshake or something; I mean, look at those ribs.


Here’s the new GC … probably the closest margin of victory in history for a Grand Tour, except for LeMond’s 0:08 margin in the ’89 Tour.


Pinot moves up to fifth overall ... a nice consolation prize after he failed to win a stage.

They’re interviewing Kuss about his leader’s amazing victory. I’m going to do something new today: I’m going to try to transcribe what they’re actually saying instead of just making shit up. Here we go.

INTERVIEWER: Amazing, huh?

KUSS: It was really stressful, everyone asks about the last TT in the Tour in 2020, and then Primoz had a problem with the bike, but that’s Primoz, he deals with adversity, he comes back stronger, it’s beautiful for him to be here with all the Slovenian fans…

INTERVIEWER: Thomas seemed so confident, what gave you the confidence [to win]?

KUSS: Primoz was just waiting until the right moment, with such a hard TT like today you can really make the difference.

INTERVIEWER: Have you ever noticed how in the movies, guys always hold a gun in their left hand?

KUSS: Oh geez, are we really doing this interview albertnet style? Seriously?

INTERVIEWER: I’m sorry, some of these bloggers just can’t help it.


Sean Kelly says, “I don’t believe Kuss at all.” I don’t either. Surely nobody would leave it that late on purpose…

Now they’re interviewing Jumbo-Visma’s Michel Hessman.

INTERVIEWER: It’s your first grand tour, and you’re on the winning team, how does that feel?

HESSMAN: [untillegible] … really, yeah, and also … fuck.

INTERVIEWER: This will be the first time Roglic has ever worn the pink jersey.

[Interview is interrupted as Thomas comes over and says, “congrats, brother.”]


HESSMAN: But yeah, I mean, like, it’s, it’s kind of been our plan from the beginning to not be in the [pink] jersey too early, but doing it like this was cutting it close … to pull it off like this really showed strong nerves.

INTERVIEWER: Has anybody ever told you you look exactly like Waldo, as in Where’s Waldo?

HESSMAN: Yeah, I get that a lot.


Okay, so I caved at the end of that exchange. It was getting boring.

They’re interviewing Thomas. This time I promise  to get it right.

INTERVIEWER (in a heavy, possibly exaggerated, British accent]: Geraint, hell of a fight, mate, absolutely unbelievable, you’ve done us all proud. I can’t imagine what you’re going through, man, but tell us about that time trial.

THOMAS: First off, people like you need to stop buggin’ me, mate, because I’ll get emotional. But uh, naw, it’s just that I could feel my legs going okay enough at the top of that climb, yeah, I don’t wanna sound like I’m makin’ excuses, but you know, the bi-carbon stuff was a different feel, and I just didn’t feel like a had that real grunge, but I guess it’s nice to lose by that much rather then a second or two, at least he smashed me, Primoz deserves that, even with the mechanical, so chapeau to him. If you’d told me this back in Feb/March, I’d have bitten your hand off, but now I’m devastated, but now with the season I’ve had up to this point, I can be proud of that, and of the boys too, they worked so hard.

INTERVIEWER: Well, G, the season’s not done yet, mate. And there’s a big race in July…

THOMAS: It’s over for me now, I’m on the piss for the next two months.

INTERVIEWER: Right, I’ll join you.

THOMAS: In your dreams, ya cheeky bastard.


Dang it! I had that almost verbatim until the very last sentence! I just couldn’t resist! Now, about that bi-carbon and grunge bit, I really have no idea what the hell Thomas was even talking about. He was just babbling, as far as I could tell. I just typed what I heard. You’d probably be better off with my normal BS, honestly.

I’ve been waiting for them to show the stage result so I could grab a snapshot. Otherwise I’d have wrapped this up already. I guess I’ll go ahead and cover the post-race analysis from Hanna Walker and Alberto Contador.

HANNA: Alberto, here’s how this is going to work. Even though I’ve also been a professional cyclist, I’m just going to ask you leading questions, and then you can mansplain everything to me as though to an idiot. My boss seems to think that’s what the viewers want.

ALBERTO: Yes, you have different all the time with the radio.

HANNA: Roglic has been in this situation, in the 2020 Tour, when he was in the lead in the last time trial, up against Tadej Pogacar, and then he crashed out last year … he’s a real fighter.

ALBERTO: Yes, for sure, you know, and Primoz was also very happy, because also the tactic, and then in the last time time trial, and in this case, the other wheel, and I have one reflection, I’m sure it’s in the head now of Roglic, that he has won the Giro, and maybe he can change the time, to him, maybe, why not, he can change the time, the team, if he want try win the Tour de France.

HANNA: You’re saying he needs to change teams if he wants to win the Tour…

ALBERTO: Yes, that what is I am trying to say.

HANNA: Thank you for your insight, or at least your effort there, I could barely understand you, and maybe someday you will say something interesting. Until then, have you tried Duolingo?


Okay, yeah, I made most of that up, but I think my rendition is truer to the real spirit of their dialogue than anything they actually said. And now I have officially given up seeing the stage result. Here are some podium photos, anyway: Roglic for the stage and GC; Pinot for the KOM, and Almeida for the best young rider.





Now they’re showing an ad for some post-race show where—in defiance of the progressive attitude that led to the retirement of the podium girl tradition—they’ve got a woman in a very short skirt showing a lot of cleavage, to offset the numbing dullness of the male commentators.


What an amazing stage. More satisfying, even, than that final Tour time trial in 2020, because there wasn’t really any lesson to be drawn from that, other than to make sure your helmet fits properly. This time around, I think we can be truly inspired by Roglic’s incredible composure. I mean, to begin with Roglic only had an outside chance of taking the necessary 26 seconds out of Thomas today; after all, Thomas beat him by 16 seconds in the first time trial and seemed to be climbing just as well as Roglic yesterday. And even though Roglic’s TT was going well, in the flat section he’d only taken like two seconds—and then, just when his lead starts to go up, he throws his freakin’ chain! But he calmly put the chain back on (not waiting for the spare bike), climbed back on, clipped back in, and got right back to it, probably only losing ten seconds. Many a rider would have been completely undone psychologically by that. Myself, I probably would have pissed myself, maybe vomited, started bawling, who knows. Actually, it’s more likely none of the above because a) I’d never be in a Grand Tour, b) I’d never be in contention in any individual time trial, and c) I’d never have thrown my chain, as I don’t run a one-by…



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Tuesday, May 16, 2023

More Tom Swifties

Introduction

The other day at 5 a.m. I woke up abruptly and couldn’t fall back to sleep. My brain was restless but had nothing to do, so it just started cranking out Tom Swifties, one after another, rapid-fire. (If you don’t know what a Tom Swifty is, check out my prior blog post here.) I don’t have time to write much this week, and no ideas, so I figured I’d just compile the new Swifties and be done with it. Alas, after I finally fell back asleep for like twenty minutes and reawakened, all the Swifties were gone. So I’m starting from scratch here.

ChatGPT Tom Swifties

Now, many a modern person, faced with a deadline and writer’s block, would turn to ChatGPT. This didn’t occur to me until my project was well underway and my brother suggested it (perhaps tongue-in-cheek, as he’s read my anti-ChatGPT posts here, here, and here). By the same token, you might wonder, “Why would I read this albertnet post when I can just ask ChatGPT for some Tom Swifties?” The answer is, because ChatGPT’s suck! Just to make this point, and so you’ll properly appreciate my Swifties, I’ll start with a few AI-generated ones.

Here are some Swifties from ChatGPT:

  • “I won the marathon,” Tom said runningly.
  • “I’ll have the seafood platter,” Tom said fishily.
  • “I’ll take the train,” Tom said railingly.

WTF? Seriously? Since when is “runningly” even a word and what would it mean? I wasn’t expecting much, but ChatGPT did even worse than I’d expected. I decided to see if it could do better creating puns involving the verb rather than an adverb. I asked it, “Write some tom swifties with no adverbs.” Here are some of its responses:

  • “I’m terrible at baseball,” Tom said bat-terly.
  • “I feel so refreshed after a shower,” Tom said towel-dry.
  • “I can’t wait to go swimming,” Tom said eagerly.

Again, WTF?! Did ChatGPT not understand the prompt? Well, it said at the end, “I hope you enjoy these Tom Swifties without adverbs!” I guess if we’re going to be really technical about it, “bat-terly” isn’t even a word, so it can’t be an adverb, but it’s pretty obvious that if it were a word, it would be an adverb. In all ten responses to this prompt, ChatGPT’s verb was “said,” so clearly it missed the point. Why do some many people seem so impressed by this AI? Unbelievable.

Okay, on to the real Swifties. A few of these are from my daughter.

Tom Swifties

“The sample weighs 28 grams,” Tom announced.

“Please don’t leave me a bad review!” Tom yelped.

 “I should have warned him about the banana peel,” Tom let slip.

 “It’s so helpful that you bagged everything up for me,” said Tom gladly.

“If you smoke that weed, you’ll be useless all afternoon,” Tom said bluntly.

“I own the mineral rights here,” Tom claimed.

“I like hot dogs,” Tom said frankly.

“He’s my brother,” Tom related.

“Return to the back of the ship immediately,” Tom said sternly.

“It’s either a solid, a liquid, or a gas,” Tom stated.

“You’re welcome to borrow my old-school landline phone,” Tom said cordially.

 “We’re being attacked by a humpback!” Tom wailed.

 “No, no, no, no, no,” Tom said knowingly.

“It’s the odor of a skunk,” Tom said distinctly.

“A martini should always be made with vodka,” Tom said, with absolute certainty.

“I guess you can see right through me,” Tom said clearly.

“Above all, I’m a company man,” said Tom firmly.

“Spray ‘n’ Wash isn’t the only way to get stains out!” Tom shouted.

“She’s all into cultivating flowers,” Tom mumbled.

 “You may be judged for cohabitating before marriage,” Tom insinuated.

“I’ll not opposed to funding the project,” Tom granted.

“They just keep making these superhero movies, one after another,” Tom marveled.

“I Tased the little bastard!” Tom said shockingly.

“I teach at the college,” Tom professed.

“I’m just a teeny bit incontinent,” Tom leaked.

“I feel like I’m about to fricking suffocate!” Tom vented.

“I can’t lift it, it’s too heavy!” Tom whimpered.

“I really want some of those hiking sandals,” Tom said keenly.

“I’m about to totally lose it,” Tom stressed.

“I labeled it with a Sharpie in two places,” Tom remarked.

“My pulse is extremely strong,” Tom said heartily.

“You won something,” Tom apprised.

“You turn me on,” Tom said stiffly.

 “You should come over, I’ve been drinking cocktails all afternoon,” said Tom spiritedly.

“My ranch only has cows and steers,” Tom said nobly.

“It’s no secret my firm does lots of pro bono work,” Tom said freely.

“I just love my new lamp!” Tom said delightedly.

“Sir, sir, sir, sir, sir,” Tom whispered surreptitiously.

 “Man, you really stink!” Tom fumed.

“I’ll just give my boss the finger,” Tom said flippantly.

“I love that old oil lamp,” Tom said genially.

“We’re gonna get caught in this storm!” Tom thundered.

“I really dig Studio Ghibli,” Tom said animatedly.

“A thousand megabytes is a lot!” Tom giggled.

“Did you smuggle in the pancakes? I’ve got everything else,” Tom said surreptitiously.

 “I have no use for merely average people like you,” Tom said meanly.

“When are you going to finish that sewing project?” Tom needled.

“I can’t believe you Tased him twice,” Tom said, revolted.

“If I have to hear one more live band, I think I’ll barf,” Tom said disconcertedly.

“How do you feel about gay couples?” Tom queried.

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Monday, May 8, 2023

Cycling Smackdown - Middle Ring Tale

Introduction

I am an assistant coach for the Albany High School mountain biking team. The age difference between the student-athletes and me keeps growing, and my bike isn’t getting any younger, either. In fact, it sports a triple crankset, a technology that has all but disappeared from the mountain bike racing circuit. One of the kids said, “We were trying to imagine you on a modern bike with a one-by, but it just wouldn’t seem right.” So this configuration has, for better or worse, become part of my “personal brand.”

What’s that, you ask? What’s a “one-by”? It’s a crankset with only one chainring, which is what most modern mountain bikes have now, paired with a  wide-range cluster of gears in the back (the opposite of the “corn cob” I coveted as a youngster). The problem with the one-by setup is, how do you properly execute the maneuver required for a Big Ring Tale?

I did not coin the term “Big Ring Tale”—at least, I don’t think I did, having used this term since the early ‘80s—but when I googled this phrase just now every single hit was this blog. Suffice to say, “Big Ring Tale” refers to a story of a showdown on bikes, with the climax coming when the hero, just before launching his final, devastating attack, “throws it in the big ring”—that is, shifts into his bike’s higher gear range. But this tale takes place on a climb far too steep for the big ring, which is why we’ll have to make do with a smaller one.


Middle ring tale

Our team rides are largely on dirt trails, but getting to them and back requires some asphalt. There’s a classic climb we do, on the road, that’s short but very steep. It’s called Canon Drive and it gains 244 feet in 0.39 miles, for an average grade of 11.7%. The top stretch is a fricking wall, topping out at 24.7%! Canon Drive is the last big hurdle we must get over during our weekday rides before descending all the way back to the high school. Most kids hate this climb because we usually have to tackle it when they’re already pretty knackered. They’ll beg for crazy long detours just to get around having to face it; one coach calls this chorus of whining “the ABCs,” for “anything but Canon.”


In my group (only the second fastest, but hey, I’m old!), there’s a kid named S— who is what we call a pocket climber. His physique is just ridiculously spare and lean, his upper body an inverted trapezoid from somewhat aerodynamic shoulders to an ideally narrow waist, and the inevitable “ripped” (i.e., lean) legs. He looks like a Pixar character, someone who could feature in the next “Incredibles” movie or something. On the big climbs I can almost never keep up with him. Today I was hoping he’d be tired enough, this having been a long ride, that I could prevail on this last, beastly climb.

So, I took the front right from the get-go, hoping to perhaps demoralize everyone into just slacking off (being teenagers, after all). I kicked out the hardest pace I could handle, which had my heart into the low 160s, which is over 90% of my maximum heart rate. The wimp that lives in my brain said, “Anyone who can come by me when I’m going this hard deserves to drop me.”


(Obviously the above photo is from a different ride when I had the opportunity to futz with a phone camera. Note the heart rate percent-of-max display, in the upper right, showing 84%, with the “ring of fire” showing in red how close to maxed out I am.)

Notwithstanding this fatalistic sentiment, my self-talk in such cases isn’t all negative. Much of the time I’m simply marveling how high I can get my heart rate when I’m riding with these kids. On no level do I feel like I need to beat them, or that anything is at stake; it’s just that their verve is infectious. Overall think my spirit animal is the cat; that is, I’m kind of a loner. But these team rides bring out my inner sled dog and I can’t help but exuberantly run with the pack, no matter how hard that is.

Soon enough, S—, the pocket climber, as if following a script, came drilling it past me. This was about 5/8 of the way to the top. (Why don’t I just say “about halfway”? Easy for you to say, armchair reader. On a climb like this, practically every foot of every effort is metered out.) S— started to pull away and I thought, “Well, he’s gone, but at least maybe I can hold off Z—.” Z— is the head coach’s kid, who has been putting the hurt on me more and more on every ride, in the process of eventually becoming faster than I, which most of these kids do (and which, let’s face it, is the whole point of coaching them, though it’s a bittersweet experience when they leave you, often literally, in the dust). Sure enough, Z— pulled level a moment later: the next thread in my weave unraveling.

Except it wasn’t Z—! It was this other kid, T—, who is a bit stockier than the others and generally isn’t a factor on the climbs. He’s not naturally built for uphills, perhaps even less than I am, plus he’s pretty new to the sport. Something about how he squares his shoulders, especially when I see him next to a pocket climber, makes me think of Frankenstein’s monster. And, when the hammer goes down, he really thrashes, body rocking all over the place. But here he was, totally going for it, attempting to burst forth and chase S— down, just flying in the face of Fate, despite the iron seeming stone cold!

It was such a cheeky move, so dismissive of  the established hierarchy, it inspired me! So I thought, heck, I’m already in the middle ring, which isn’t bad, on a grade this steep, and even though we’d just reached the final wall, where I would normally shift into my largest cog in the back, I thought: what if I just fricking shifted UP, into a harder gear? Or, even, like, two gears up? As in, what if I put the bike in the gear a real man would use here if he were going to lay down a rubber road straight to freedom?!

(Yes, I know in a classic Big Ring Tale I’d be honor-bound to throw her in the big ring at this point, but let’s be real. The grade is more than 20%. I guess I could have taken some liberties and written that I’d been in the little ring, and now threw her in the middle, but that would be false. Could I have called this a “smaller cog” story? No, that just doesn’t make any sense. And one more thing: if “lay down a rubber road straight to freedom” confuses you, you need to go watch “Mad Max” as soon as possible. I believe the expression has to do with accelerating so hard, even when already at highway speed, that you spin the tires and burn rubber.)

Could I really do this? Decide to shift up two gears, and just honor that crazy commitment? Well, my back to the wall, I was just crazy enough to try it. So I stood up (so I’d be standing already when the shift was complete) and clicked the lever twice. My derailleur is pretty bent, so under load it takes a while to shift into a smaller cog, and during this process I kind of lose some power, so mid-shift Z— finally came up next to me, like I’d known he would...

Except it still wasn’t Z—! It was this French kid, G—, the son of a fellow coach who is a brilliant world class physicist living in the US for a while helping America’s best scientists solve some crazy problem using a giant multibillion particle accelerator, but I digress. He (the kid, not the physicist) is normally off the back on these climbs, given the elite group he’s in, but he was having the ride of his life! He had dropped Z— and A— and was about to drop the fricking coach, that being me!

But it was not to be, because suddenly my bike was in gear and I fricking went! I accelerated with astonishing effect and I heard G— make this kind of odd noise, between a sigh and a puff of air bursting from his lungs through his mouth as his dream was instantly scuttled.

Okay, so, at the risk of exhausting your patience with another aside, I need to get something straight here, because when I regale my wife with tales such as this, she doesn’t quite understand the dynamic and to her, these acts of aggression are puzzling, even disconcerting. She ran track in high school but it was mostly a social thing, without much rivalry within the team. But the fact is, high school mountain bikers are just aggressive. Every climb, every descent, heck, even the rare flat section, is an opportunity to thrash your teammates. It’s automatic. It’s not the same as the road teams I was on at their age, where we were on a team with adults who let us ride with them so long as we behaved (i.e. rode predictably). And when we teen roadies went on long rides together, sure, the hammer would go down from time to time, but we also chatted quite a bit, at a casual pace, and at other times relied on each other for a good draft, taking turns facing the wind because it was a long way home. Mountain biking is different. The rides are shorter, more intense, and generally a free-for-all. And as a coach, my job is to lead, inspire, and demonstrate the subtle arts of tactics, psychology, and (when I can manage it) brute force. This isn’t like other team sports where the coach just does a lot of talking from the sidelines. We NICA coaches suffer right along with our student-athletes, on every ride. And, in the faster groups, we coaches pwn these youngsters whenever we can because our window for doing so is slowly but inexorably closing. We know it, and the kids know it: virtually anybody who sticks with the program for all four years can look forward to eventually surpassing the coach. Until that moment, we coaches are all-in, comfortably confident in the knowledge that even the most solid drubbing we can inflict won’t discourage these kids. They look at us: we’re old, we’re oddly fast, but we’re mainly old, and eventually, one day, vengeance is theirs. They will repay. [Insert winking emoticon here.]

Okay, where was I? Ah, yes, I’d completed my brave upshift and launched my quixotic attack. I was drilling it like a madman! Now, as you already know, anybody—even a guy who’s already hammering, even at >90% of his max heart rate—can stomp on the pedals and accelerate for a little while, maybe 50 or 100 feet, before he totally detonates. Such accelerations are impressive until they fizzle. Except that I didn’t! I just felt this crazy surge of power, like a giant wave had just swept me up and was hurtling me toward the beach—except it wasn’t a beach, it was a wall! The ruthless final stretch of Canon Drive! And I was flying!

The pain was so severe it just triggered some altered state where nothing could stop me, and I flew up that hellish pitch with absolutely no regard for the abuse I was inflicting on myself, much less for the laws of gravity. I felt like a squirrel running straight up a tree! It seemed impossible to catch the other two, except that suddenly they were in great difficulty—the difficulty I should have been in, but somehow wasn’t—and I was gaining on them with a quickness!

As I raged up the slope, fate caught up to T— and he detonated, right near the top, less than fifty feet from the prize, and as I overtook him I was in striking range of S—. As we went around the ridiculous corner at the top (where it’s so steep it’s impossible not to peel out in your car after stopping at the stop sign), I squeezed past S— and just nipped him at the line! Or did he nip me? There was no photo-finish camera, but either way, he must have been astonished I was even there, after having been so thoroughly distanced earlier. I looked down at my heart rate monitor, and for the first time ever, I mean in my entire life, it read 100%! So this was kind of a triple-victory! Man vs. Nature, Man vs. Man, and Man vs. Himself! Daaaaaamn!

So was there a victory salute? Applause? A ticker-tape parade? An engraving in some memorial plaque? Of course not: just a fist-bump and a breathless “NOOICE.” Of course in the moment this tête-à-tête felt like kind of a big deal, as in “What a rush!” but it was ultimately just another hill, just another sprint. And when intense, all-in suffering like this becomes routine, that’s when the humble teenager becomes an athlete, ideally for life.

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