Velophoria Incident Report -- Finally

30 miles around the Holyokes with Jacob this a.m., a bona fide, honest-to-goodness, real summer day, with blue skies, sun, rolling farm land, mountains...

I am whole again.

Health issues continue to prevent me from riding as long or hard as I feel I can, but I'll tell you what: I'm branding this a Velophoria Incident. It's been far too long since the last one, and a beautiful morning spent on two wheels with a good friend more than qualifies.

July is About Bike Racing

... It blew right through me, then... instantly and decisively... At 37 mph, my elbow and handlebar tapping against a guy I knew little else about except that he was called Ray and he was fast, and both of us trusting our health and our $5,000 bikes to a guy in front of us with an avian nickname, I understood bicycle racing.

You were nothing without the pack. Alone, lacking context, you were neither strong nor weak, not stupid or savvy, not inexperienced or innocent or wobbly or feral or graceful or heavy like unfinished statuary. Two months ago, I was slow because the pack was faster. Tonight I was fast because my pack was slower. The pack created its own context and within the pack that was the only context that mattered. I had eaten sh*t. Paul Pearson, the legendary Animal, was pushing fifty and just a few weeks ago had been telling me how he was picking up cash by temping as a stonemason's assistant. Gibby the Bear, the beloved villain of an entire nation, who'd sown fear and awe into the best professional keirin racers in the world, found himself terrifying Cat 5s in a training race for a shot at a free pizza once a month. The pack didn't care. We were nothing to the pack except the things we did that day.

...For the first time in my life I belonged to something. I was ready to score points.

~ Bill Strickland, Ten Points

July Fourth Addendum

While out for my ride this a.m., I went through South Amherst and saw a parade of about 80 or so kids (surrounded by hundreds of parents) on bikes, each decorated in a July Fourth theme -- streamers, balloons, and hats and such on the kids. Adorable! Wish I'd had a camera with me!

After the "parade" (which was about two blocks, catering to attention spans of the younger ones), the kids took turns reading the Declaration of Independence over the P.A., and then the adults handed out prizes for the nicest bike design. Turns out this tradition goes back 125 years in South Amherst (well, probably not the bike part), and was about to die until some good-hearted volunteer stepped up to organize this year's festivities.

I wholeheartedly support this kind of thing. Who wouldn't?

Made in the USA

Happy birthday, Americans.

Some thoughts on this day:

1) As much as I love the Euro-roots of this sport (see previous post, and many others), I'm really pleased I can ride today sportin' this on my bike:


One of the finest bikes made in our fine country (for all its flaws, blah, blah, blah. And yes, I know C-dale doesn't manufacture in the U.S. anymore. Shut UP, 'kay?! I'm trying to do the patriotic bit, here!).

2) Happy Tour de France day, too. Let's not knock the Frogs just 'cause it's our day! They love their cycling, and hey -- without them, we wouldn't have podiumed in the Revolutionary War.

First, I hope for an exciting and clean race. After that, if an American could stand atop the podium, that would be pretty darn fun.

3) It's sunny out for the first time in nearly a month. I'm closing the computer right now and getting out there!

Enjoy your friends, family, BBQ and/or whatever you have planned. Use the comments to update us as to your thoughts/activities.

Bill Strickland Still in Form

After a lengthy hiatus, I visited Bill Strickland's blog this morning, and, much to my delight, he still embodies more of what writing about cycling should be than any active writer I know. No one will ever top Paul Fournel in my book, but he published once on cycling and then bowed out. (A move that, in itself, reflects his Zen-like wisdom.)

Treat yourself to some sweet Strickland, here and here. He gets the whole Euro-roots thing like few Americans do.

By the way, these are delightful cycling pieces, but not on the topic he's known for. Strickland's purest talent is capturing the explosive action and emotional torments of bike racing. You can find plenty of that elsewhere on his blog, and also -- especially -- in a book that's a very tough but worthy read, Ten Points (currently at sale price at that linked page).

Alla salute!