By: Jeremy Dunn Monday February 8, 2010

The Super Bowl happened today. However, for us it happened at around 9am this morning instead of the traditional whatever time the Super Bowl is. Yeah, sure it changed from the King Kong Klassic to Classic. Maybe, instead of complaining that it is nod towards white supremacy we all get together and say from now on three “K’s” together actually means this ride? Just a thought. (Tracko for the full ride info.)

Whatever the name, or the case, today was the second time this weekend that I thought to myself “I need to get a coach.”

The first was Saturday when I went on a ride that was supposed to be a distance day. Before I knew it we were goaded into sprinting around Sauvies Island with the HPC (read – real racers) team. Good guys, that crew, and I have to say that I am a big fan of their kit update. More black = good. It was daunting to be sprinting next to these guys and then I think to myself, “why the hell am I sprinting next to these guys?” I know for a fact that KV has been training in both LA and Hawaii – which is why he is looking so fucking fit and riding away from everyone.

So, that was moment one.

Ladies and Gents – Ira Ryan

Moment two happened sometime today. Cannot really remember if it was when the group took off and I decided that I could more easily become a hardman by waiting a beat or two and then chasing on (not the way to do it.) Or when I flatted on the gravel section (thanks Matt for waiting and good eye on the salamander) changed the flat and then rode on propelled strictly by the landscape and conversation rather than the fuel that competition itself provides.

But then, and I think this was also sometime today, I realized that I would not get to think about cycling as much if I had a coach. I would think about the science surrounding cycling and training. And really, when it comes down to it, I just need to be riding my bike more.

Yes, it is that time of year. Let the insecurities creep in and then squash them with training. Or get out with your friends and have a good time.

So, in the span of about four minutes I convinced myself that I needed a coach and reconfirmed what I already knew to be true. That I don’t. Or, not that I don’t but that I don’t really want one.

What I do have are good teammates. Teammates like Matt who was willing to wait for me. And at the same time more than willing to waive me back into the group when we ran into them again. At which point it was lucky for me I had Joe Staples along to keep me motivated. On the last run in to the finish we were both hanging on for dear life (I might be projecting my own feelings of shittyness on him because he looked much more fresh) yet I was more apt to not test the elastic qualities of the back end of the group just knowing that the small group I was with contained a teammate. And I guess that means something.

Mr. Joe Staples

This is why I like this King Kong Classic style of ride/race/fun jam. If you want to go hard. Then by all means, go for it. And if you want it to be less about the results and more about the ride, route, weather and more importantly camaraderie, well, then shit, this one is for you. And if while you’re doing it you decide you need a coach, I can recommend a few really good ones.

But more importantly. If you are climbing up to the finish on the route and you see what looks to be salvation. A shining cross illuminating the field next to you. Back it off a little bit. Because, in all actuality, that is a telephone pole. And the people standing under it are more likely the people you road here with and not some sort of fucked up congregation. Just go with it.

But enough about my complaints. Can I just point out that we had a moto today. This is an act that I have decided, along with a competent driver ads a level of legitimacy to whatever sort of event that you are doing. A garage sale, ballet lesson, and even grocery shopping get to instantly be turned into a rock and roll music video starring you. And if it is on a bike ride that you are doing, everyone pays attention to the moto driver.

But this little guy, seen below was hanging out on the roadside with another orange guy. Matt spotted them after the flat fix. Is it the time of year for salamanders in Oregon? We spied another one, but he did not fair as well as these two, whom we moved closer to the edge. Take it easy little buddy.

Winners
We are all winners though are we not? However Matt Karre (who wrote a piece in the upcoming Embrocation Volume 5) and Doug Wilmes (who is just generally awesome) were the first two to cross a line that symbolized the ending of the ride. They would not say who did it first, so I am liking to think that they held hands as they rode across.

Notice the two different styles that we are dealing with here. I know, crap photos, sorry. On one hand we have a steel race bike complete with aluminum fenders. A wool jersey and knee warmers. The only thing he is missing is Ira Ryan’s downtube shifters…On the other a full carbon nano-technologified whip complete with EDGE rimmed powertap wat-o-meter. No knee warmers.

At this point you might be asking yourself “But, Who’s Right?” and I’ll tell you. Both.

And in equal parts badass and weird I pulled up next to Doug during the ride and he said to me, in a not uncreepy voice I might add, “I wore something special for today.” I mean that is enough for me, you do not even have to expand beyond that, I would believe anyone who would venture to tell me something like that on a ride. But he did go further. DW went so far as to unzip his vest and point out that he was wearing some sort of a feather corsage. Later he was quoted as saying this was in fact the reason that he won.

I am more inclined to think it is because he went Embro-only in a sea of knee warmers.

By: Kaiko Shimura Monday February 8, 2010

Just as the train was about to pull away, I saw them. Multi-colored bikes and bits of gear pieced together with whatever was most comfortable and warm. A bright red jacket, a shiny white bike, and the blue/green flash of Embrocation. Their heads turned inwards, I imagined their casual banter as they slid smoothly west. I watched them intensely for a good five seconds before they vanished from view, and for three of those seconds, I wished I was riding with them.

…But not really.

Don’t get me wrong, I’d love to have the ability to make riding look as easy as those guys do. But a voice in my head has been resisting the more-constant-than-not desire to run with the boys [and sort of be one]. Not because I prefer the kind of gender isolation that gives birth to the literary cycling equivalent of the Vagina Monologues that I’m starting to get kind of good at, but because of something much more basic. I have a girl crush.

Unconsciously trained – like most women – to judge beauty in both men and women from an early age, the girl crush isn’t a phenomenon confined to yours truly. But it is – no matter the sexual orientation of the crusher – one of the highest accolades available in the convoluted dynamics of female to female relationships. So while I have been frugal in my obsessions, regardless of my dating status, the girl crush has persisted – the crushees in my lifetime thus far ranging from Brody Dalle to Twiggy to Koyuki.

You probably expect me to say that this time, it’s Victoria Pendleton or Liz Hatch or any of the other usual suspects of [cycling] sexy. In a way, I wish it was; that way I could spew out a few details about their lives, their racing history, link a few pictures and call it a day. It’s never that easy, though, right? And because I apparently like my life complicated, I have to disclose – in all honesty – that it was just a picture.

Team kit that perfectly matched her bike and a long, blonde ponytail, it was a fairly ordinary picture of a non-pro bent over in the drops, mid-pedalstroke. The ubiquitous profile shot combined with sunglasses meant you could hardly see her face, just a small, pointy nose. Yet somehow, there was something there that clicked neatly, like that feeling of “ahhhh” the first time you manage to clip in without looking down at your pedals. And an unfamiliar thought arose: maybe being a girl, or rather, riding as one, isn’t so bad after all.

This belated realization is, for me, simultaneously weird and comforting. Women’s cycling tends to get not so much glossed over as completely ignored, which makes it that much harder to really look up to. It seemed normal that I could stalk Lance, Alberto, Jens, Andy, and Frank for hours and never turn my eye onto members of my own gender who were making it on two wheels. Perhaps not on the guys’ terms, but they didn’t need to; they were making it on their own. And that wasn’t a concession to a weakness, but the definition of genuinely cool.

To be honest, I think that’s exactly what scared me. Being familiar with the high standards that girls hold each other to, I found shelter in voluntary ignorance of women’s cycling. But just as I was about to sigh in resignation at not being with that pack of male cyclists, that picture of the Unidentified Female Cyclist blinked through my mind. And I stopped. Because, while the guys are great, the women are just as cool.

Sure, earning the latter’s respect is a lot harder; you don’t have permission to be weaker. But I have a sneaking suspicion that it would but a lot more rewarding, too.

By: Workshops Friday February 5, 2010

NFG Cycles is one of the up-and-comers of the New England bicycle scene. Located just next door to Spooky Bikes in Easthampton, MA, NFG is the brainchild of Niall Gengler, a talented, passionate and driven young builder who brings focus to machining and metalwork to make extremely high-quality, functional machines. Keep an eye out for Niall’s bikes, forks and stems gaining prominence among those who appreciate fine workmanship.

By: Jeremy Dunn Friday February 5, 2010

Ok, geeze, sorry for the delay. The new issue is off to the printer. Man that was a jam fest. And by jam fest I mean a party. And by a party I mean I actually pulled an all nighter. It felt like I was at University again. Studying hard and then blam its 8am (I never did that once.)

The photo above is a black box. And in that black box are a mysterious set of of cards. Check see the images out and see for yourself, but I will say that when I got the box I thought it was going to be the sweetest. It was not. Do not get me wrong (I feel like I say that a lot. Do you “get me wrong?”) I like the Cervelo Test Team.

Bartape, their series of videos are really pretty great. Insightful. Professional and very well shot. Not sure about the Bengt guy and his Body and his title of “Body Self Development Assistance” title. I mean sure, Sastre, yeah that makes sense. He seems like he needs a little more nurturing than everyone else. And maybe, while we are at it Bengt is the guy who helped Hausler decide that frosted tips were back in. But I have to think that J. Hunt and R. Hammond could probably crush this guy with their minds.

How would it feel to greet Thor at the team bus just minutes after this sprint?

Quick, what is the first thing that comes to mind? For me the words – awkward, forced and, well, awkward. Unless, he is throwing his hands it the air to give me the biggest darndest hug I could imagine.

I bet at this point you are wondering how I got ahold of this? How did I come to be in possession of said black box? Our old pal Chance my friends. And I do not mean a quirky urban hipster name. Just chance.

Mr. Olson and I were about to get on the elevator of the Ace Hotel in NY last week and two gentleman stepped off of the elevator. One of them was holding a pile of these black boxes in his hands. We stepped into the elevator and then looked at each other and went “Was that a Cervelo Logo?” at the same time. It was one of those weird sitcom TV moments and we started jumping up and down and howling like monkeys. (Not really).

So, we got off the elevator and introduced ourselves. Seems like the only sensible thing to do in that scenario right? I mean we are part of the same world (generally speaking.) Plus, I thought that it might be the perfect time to get to the bottom of Haussler’s spikey hair doo.

Well, they really were not that interested in speaking with us that was apparent when upon introducing ourselves. Their glazed over look gave them the impression of some kind of German robot people. But that’s kind of where we are heading anyway right?

Imagine being in the car right now. It looks like that guy is actually trying to get out of the car. Or maybe he’s crawling out of Thor’s ass?

I’m guessing that these cards serve as some sort of a marketing push for the Test Team. That the guys that we met were doing, or had done a dinner of sorts to try and gain some financial momentum for the program. But the whole thing just felt a little wrong. A big cardboard box filled with a spongy foam bed with these cards hovering in the center.

Carlos Sastre was the first rider to sign with CTT. At the Giro, he inked over 1,200 autographs and entertained corporate guests. He also won two stages and made the podium on GC. Imagine what he might do for Beyond the Peleton Network platinum Members?

Hmm. So he can work with his hands you are telling me. And he must have strong wrists, and “entertained corporate guests” so he must also be either a stand up comedian or a belly dancer. Wow, bicycle racers really are advanced these days. Not only do they steer their bikes well, but they also have written skills and the Home-Ec to back it up in the entertainment arena.

The best part is, even after a run in with shitty Robo Management and poor use of resources (a book would have been much cooler floating in foam). I still really like this team. In fact, maybe even more so than most of the other teams out there.

More than Lampre? Maybe. More than the new Astana goon squad? Definitely, and even more than Garmin. Yes. The only one that could have given them a run for their money because of their Sweet Carbon Bike Testing awesomeness would have been BMC but they didn’t even get to enter into the style debate by hiring the Dusty Chimp to not only do their dirty work but make their jeans. Sigh.

Although it does make me wonder what this years Battenkill is going to be like. The Pro Version. Not that Cervelo is going to be there or anything. I just wonder about these things.

By: Whit Yost Thursday February 4, 2010

Can you believe it’s already February? It seems like just yesterday that I was scouring the web looking for photos of new kits, bikes, and training camps. But here we are now and already we’ve seen the Tour Down Under, cyclocross Worlds, and the season-opening road races in Italy and France come and go. So while it’s perhaps a bit early in the game to go too crazy with prognostications, it’s never too soon to discuss what we’ve learned—so far. Let’s give it a go:

1. HTC-Columbia made the right choice in keeping Andre Greipel. Only time will tell for certain, but at this point in the season, Greipel’s won more races than the riders HTC let depart this past off-season—including George Hincapie and Edvald Boassen Hagen. Okay, that’s not saying much considering the latter have hardly raced. But keep this in mind: great riders win the races they’re expected to. In Greipel’s case, it’s fair to say he was expected to win several stages at the Tour Down Under. Anything less would have been major disappointment, sending choruses of “I told you so’s” echoing through the world’s online cycling forums. In the end, Greipel’s early success will prove nothing to write home about, but if Greipel can continue his winning trend with perhaps a win in Ghent-Wevelgem or several stage wins in some major stage races, HTC management will look as if it made all the right moves.

2. Old dogs still have some new tricks. When was the last time you saw Lance Armstrong or Cadel Evans on the attack in January? Armstrong’s riding the Classics (sans Paris-Roubaix) and Evans is riding the Giro—clearly they seem motivated to improve upon their results from last year. Will Evans finally get the Grand Tour that has eluded him for so long? Will Armstrong atone for years of disappointment in Liége and Amstel? All in all, it should make for some exciting racing over the next few months.

3. Cycling is on the verge of a sponsorship crisis. I’ve been saying this for weeks, but it continues to fall on deaf ears. Milram, Saxo Bank, and recently Caisse d’Epargne have announced they will not be sponsoring teams next year. As the ripple effect of the worldwide economic crisis spreads further and further outward, sponsors seem to be growing increasingly harder to find—unless your name is Lance Armstrong or Alberto Contador. Sure, 2010 sees Team Sky and Team Radio Shack joining the Pro Tour, but those teams come backed by sponsors hoping to cash-in on the current popularity of homegrown talent. Those bubbles will burst once Armstrong retires and British fans grow tired of watching Brad Wiggins under-perform in the only race they really care about. When Team Astana begins to look like one of the more financially secure teams in the sport, we’ll know things are really starting to look bad.

4. The Czech Republic is challenging Belgium’s place as the Cyclocross Capital of the World. Did you see Zdenek Stybar’s ride on Sunday and his three compatriots in the top-10? Okay, it’s just one race, but when you factor in the inconsistent and sometimes lackluster performances of Belgium’s finest throughout the year, it’s clear to see a potential paradigm shift developing. Remember the late 1990’s when Holland—led by Richard Groenendaal and Adrie Van Der Poel—ruled the roost until a resurgent group of Belgians took control of European podiums? Don’t look now, but Stybar and Co. could be poised to do the same. There’s one thing they lack: a solid base of homegrown events in which to fine-tune their form. If the Czechs begin to promote races (and attract competition) on par with their Belgian counterparts, look out!

5. Louisville 2013! ‘Nuff said.

6. There are 23 days until the Belgian season opens with the Omloop Het Nieuwsblad. But you knew that already, didn’t you?

Enjoy the rest of your February!

By: Kyle von Hoetzendorff Wednesday January 27, 2010

Despite my love for Mad Max I am no road warrior. It has been hard for me to assimilate all the miles and tactics, heart rates and calories, disposable razors and the general pumping and flexing that takes place. I am biased, having worked in a shop on and off for over a decade. There is nothing like witnessing an interminable retching of hubris to turn you off of something. Before the arms are up about painting with a wide brush I would just remind everyone that Type A and road cycling are not tautological, it is only that the link between the two is seemingly made of Adamantium. Taking a step back I get it – I am not here to illustrate yet another example of the ego’s love for generalization. Outside of the bike world, other less-than-desirable individuals exist, take note of your local gym or while waiting in line for coffee, the globe is covered with the sprinkling of God’s bitter tears. Anywhere people compete, one could argue that this is all we do, someone is liable to view the successful coddling of the ego as a step towards species procreation, an atavistic nod towards the high five hunters on the walls Chauvet.

Up until a week ago, I hadn’t been on a road ride in fifteen years. Looking dead into the eyes of the big three O I can honestly say it has been half a lifetime. It’s not that I don’t spend time riding on the road, I go here and there, work, bars, food, etc. I ride my bike almost everywhere; it is so easy here. The city of Portland, Oregon is truly a city of Pedal-philes. Needless to say since re-locating to Portland five years ago I have taken up bicycle commuting in earnest, the move to the nation’s number one cycling city led me back to the joy of being on a bicycle, first back to mountain biking, then to cyclocross, and now road. I have to say I had a blast. We are a far cry away from the time where my downhill bike is sold for yet another skinny tired street predator but now is see there is room in the stable for both entities.

It wasn’t that I found myself out on the tarmac lost in the orgiastic delirium of up-hilling, wondering why it had taken me so long to return to the blacktop. I think my return to road cycling came at just the right time. Like anything else having an enjoyable experience out on the road has as much to do with the people with whom you share the ride with than anything thing else and this certainly holds true for solo rides. I don’t know who else to blame if you piss yourself off. Find some people that are pissed at the same thing you are, go find some steep hills and beat yourself up on them – at the very least you won’t have the same energy to keep being such an ass. For the rest of us I wouldn’t let the prize of the amateur ranks spoil your fun, it’s quite a thing to go slaughter yourself on a hill and to be able look back in amazement that you were actually able to will your all and everywhere aching body to keep pedaling. In road cycling the hills do end and the boulders disappear.

By: Andrew J Bernstein Tuesday January 26, 2010

Another elite-level cyclist with whom I’ve had the pleasure of racing with – and learning from – over the past couple of seasons gave me some valuable advice as the 2009 season rolled to a close.

“Andrew,” he said, “the best thing about serious riding is not riding.”

Granted, this conversation was held as I was lamenting to anyone who would listen how poorly my late-season campaign had gone and how burnt out I was, and granted his comment was geared more toward resting than alternative exercise, but I like to think that I’ve taken his advice to heart.

Sort of.

The next words off his keyboard were “beer, girls, ice cream.”

The point he was trying to get at, I think, is that all of us in the elite peloton are so deeply entrenched in our training routines that we can sometimes lose sight of the other good stuff that’s out there. Cycling is awesome, it’s a sport that I hope will be a life-long hobby for me, but even I know there is a time when you have to step away, and take your helmet off. Or, at least, trade your bike helmet for some other kind of helmet – a pith helmet, for instance.

As the off-season winds down and I segue into an intensifying training load that will occupy most of February, I’ve just taken a moment to evaluate how effective I was this year at wearing different helmets, after trying to take at least part of the advice offered to me by my brother-in-spandex.

BikeSnobNYC is fond of poking fun at the alternative training fads that seem to come along each year, be it roller skiing, speed walking, Jell-O wrestling Hungarian midgets, or whathaveyou. He may poke fun, but I think it’s valuable to spend time doing things that are good for your body and soul, and that don’t involve your bike.

For me, this winter, that’s meant trying to get up into the mountains, for some good, old-fashioned, bipedal locomotion, sans wheels. Also known as hiking.

Schlepping a heavy pack up the steep side of a mountain does not relate directly to race situations, but the exhilaration of standing on a rocky summit, on a clear, cool day is pretty much unbeatable, and totally unparalleled. So far, I’ve stood atop five of the Adirondack high peaks during this off season. With a little luck and some creative scheduling, I’ll get a couple more in before racing starts in earnest.

And even if you can’t work on leg speed while wearing snowshoes (trust me, it doesn’t work), few other things that I have done have left me with such a complete, satisfying sense of being truly worked.

It’s a feeling that always reminds me that I may be a fit bike racer, but there are other measures of fitness – just as there are other ways to fill your days. I’ve been glad to be reminded of this world beyond bikes, and I highly recommend others give it a look.

And with that, it’s time to hit the rollers.

Oh, and we can talk about beer, girls and ice cream another time.

By: Kaiko Shimura Monday January 25, 2010

Unlike most girls, I am not as predictable as clockwork. I’m reliable, but not minutely exact. I understand the general gist of when things are happening, but I couldn’t give you a time or place.

Paradoxically, I hate to run out on established plans.

Which is why, last Friday, I was on a geared road bike, doing laps around Central Park when all I really wanted to do was curl up into a ball on my bed under at least two covers and make gutteral whimpering sounds in between sipping hot chocolate and eating crushed saltines sprinkled on a giant Wholefoods vegan brownie. I craved salt, fat, carbs, and sugar. Loud noises gave me a headache and my moods were swinging dangerously from Sidi-throwing temper tantrums to irrational crying fits over things I just found “sad.”

It was that time of month and I had to get into Lycra.

If you think that stripping down and putting on what is akin to a skin-tight superhero outfit is hard when you’re male, tend to be on the lean side, and do at least 100 miles a week, think about how you would feel if you had to put on that same kit over a fat suit. Then imagine every one of your friends laughing and pointing out all your imperfections and you’ll start to get the idea of what it’s like to get into a simple pair of bike shorts when you’re female. Add 150 more pounds to that fat suit and that’s what it feels like to go on a bike ride when your uterus realizes that you’re not planning on baking any buns in that oven and starts spitting out pizza sauce. In short, I felt enormous, bloated, and torn between weeping or screaming. I was not ready to go on a bike ride.

Never mind the fact that I was already dressed from head to toe in the tightest, yet hopefully slimming, articles of clothing that I own. I tried to avoid looking in the mirror and failed. I sat on the couch and rested my head on my knees. And when Mike said “let’s go,” all I could manage was.

“I can’t go on a ride. I’m too fat.”

If you’ve ever wondered what a beached whale might feel like, ask a girl who has managed to overcome the psychological trauma of getting into a kit when her cervix is retching out three week old placenta and she’s gained two pounds of water weight and about ten tons of hormone-induced crazy overnight. And through the assurances that the ride was going to be fun and easy and we could stop whenever we [read: I] wanted, I almost believed that if Mike had dragged me outside by one cleat-shod foot, that I would be able to swim back to the couch and plant myself on it until I died of dehydration or fell asleep, whichever came first. But lethargy and laziness always go hand in hand, and the thought of crawling back out of my layers was exhausting enough. Neither did I really want to visually revisit the rolls and folds of flesh that felt like they were multiplying and expanding like a colony of wild rabbits as I sat there, pouting. And, yeah, the whole thing was kind of lame, too.

So I got up, thanked Patagonia that my jacket made me look more shapeless than bulbous, and got on some gears. I want to say that it made everything better, that it totally cleared my head and chiseled away at the drama bouncing around my psyche. To be honest, though, it wasn’t the miraculous cure-all I had been looking for; I still felt like a walrus when trying to climb hills. But the imaginary tire around my waist made the descents that much faster.

And that’s gotta be worth something.

By: Embro Tech Friday January 22, 2010

Jared Porter has spent most of his life in and around the bicycle industry. A graduate of the Massachussetts College of Art and Design, Jared has worked in all arenas of bicycle fabrication with such companies as Merlin Metalworks, Vicious Cycles, Willits Brand Bicycles, and his current position as the Production Manager at Serotta Bicycles in Saratoga Springs, NY. Below is the first in a series of Tech articles Jared is writing that focus on his own bicycle building project.

I have been thinking about building a new frame for myself. I build frames for my customers everyday, with painstaking care to be sure they are getting their dream bike. So it’s a little strange for me because I am trying to figure out what I want to make when I am so used to figuring out what others want. A logical place to start is by asking myself why I’m building a new bike in the first place. This time, I want a cross bike, though racing will only be a small part of what it is used for. I need to consider what I want this frame’s primary function will be and the secondary things it needs to be good at as well.

I’m starting with a cross bike platform and narrowing my focus as I go along. The idea of racing cross next season is appealing. Though I have never participated in a cross race, I feel a slight twinge of guilt as I stand on the sidelines egging my suffering friends on as I drink beer. It seems only fair to reciprocate. So racing is a nice thought, especially when cross season is a long way off, but I need a fall back plan for this bike. I will also use this bike for exploration of the many dirt roads that lace through the foothills of the Adirondacks where I live. The other use will be commuting in the winter when my fixie is outmoded by slush and snow.

As a frame designer and builder I always get nervous about a customer who wants a bike to be too many things. Frames designed to excel in certain circumstances have degraded performance in other disciplines. I’m getting into the realm of the Swiss Army knife if I go much further down this multi use road. As an example, it’s very tempting to try and fit a little touring geometry into the mix. The problem is that touring geometry is at odds with the sporty handling I’m looking for. Additionally, my enthusiasm for cross racing may evaporate after I puke a lung on the first lap race number one. So the question is: what will I be doing with this bike ninety percent of the time? My honest answer is riding on dirt roads. So, that’s what the frame needs to be good at. This is an important exercise for anybody in the market for a new bike. Visualize what you will really do with a new bike and buy one accordingly.

Materials are the next consideration. I have decided to build this frame out of steel. The Columbus Niobium tubing we use at Serotta is great to build with because it is light, strong, and easy to fabricate with. I also want to try using some tapered S-bend chain stays on this frame rather than the straight, ovalized stay we normally use on cross bikes. I have the S-bend chain stays on my fixed gear and really like the comfort they provide. The challenge will be squeezing as much tire clearance as possible out of the stays. I will use 16mm single tapered seat stays to give the brakes responsiveness while keeping the rear of the bike compliant. Up front I will use a tapered, triple butted seat tube that is 35mm at the bottom bracket and 32mm at the seat top. This will keep the bottom bracket from wagging to and fro, while using a 27.2mm seat post, which is flexible, and should enhance the shock absorbing qualities of the rear triangle. The down tube is where things get burly. A 38mm double butted down tube will be employed to keep the front end nice and stiff. The top tube is triple butted and is oval in the horizontal plain at the head tube. So what does all this mean? Essentially the frame will be built with comfort in the rear triangle while the front triangle will we stiff to control rider input from the pedals and the handlebars.

The next aspect to consider is geometry. I want this bike to feel light at the bar, so minor changes in direction can be achieved with minimal input. I will use a relatively steep head angle of 72.5 degrees combined with my 47mm rake cross fork. This will allow the bike to turn without having to lean it excessively to initiate turns. The down side is that these handling traits require more attentiveness by the pilot. The bottom bracket drop is another element that affects the performance of the bike radically. Drop is the distance the BB sits below the horizontal line made between the front and rear axle. Many cross bikes have smaller amounts of drop, which equals a higher BB. This helps avoid pedal strikes to the ground and also helps the bike have better slow speed agility. For my bike I am going to drop the bottom bracket. This is in an effort to gain back a degree of high-speed stability as a lower bottom bracket lowers the center of gravity. I also think a lower BB will help me on mounts and dismounts when I am racing. I will be using a slightly slack seat tube angle in order to bias my weight over the rear wheel slightly. This will keep the weight off my hands on long rides and keep the front wheel from knifing into the soft ground on wet muddy courses. A rear weight bias will also keep the front wheel tracking straighter with less attention on gravel roads. The chain stays will be short to cut down the wheelbase and keep acceleration snappy. Doing this will make the bike more twitchy at speed but increase traction at the rear tire and make it easier to bunny hop those barriers (yeah right).

The last thing I have to mull over before drafting my new frame is the cable routing. Generally I like down tube routing for the shifter cables, but I’m going with top tube routing for this bike. There are a couple of reasons for this. First of all, top tube routing interferes with the front brake wire less while the bars are turned. A triple stop can also be used on both ends of the top tube, cutting down on the number of cable stops on the bike. The rear derailleur cable will then split off down the drive seat stay out of the muck that will cake on the frame during muddy races. The front derailleur routing will come around the back of the seat tube and terminate on a down tube shifter boss allowing me to bolt a cable stop with barrel adjuster for fine tuning. Down below the front derailleur band clamp on the back of the seat tube will be a pulley will convert the cable back to a bottom pull for a standard road derailleur. The brake will then be routed in standard fashion on outside slot of the triple stop on the non-drive side of the top tube.

Now that I have decided what I want and how I want to make the frame I am really excited to start building. The process of narrowing focus to what is really important is essential and was a fun exercise for me. The things that were covered are valuable for anybody approaching the purchase of a new bike whether it is custom or stock, complete bike or frame only. If you do this before spending any money on a new bike you can be confident that the end result will be better.

By: Whit Yost Thursday January 21, 2010

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about doping. No, not actually doing it—just thinking about it.

Maybe it’s Mark McGwire, the NFL Playoffs, or the fact that I’ve actually starting riding my bike again. Regardless, I’ve got the dope on the brain, and I won’t rest until I get some things off my chest. (And before you get your hopes up, this is not yet another confession—this time from a former-amateur-rider-turned-professional-team manager.)

Doping is an unfortunate, but inseparable element of sport (all sports everywhere—amateur and professional). Any expectations, hopes, and dreams one might have of eliminating it entirely are not only unrealistic, but also more or less impossible. Worse still, the attention doping receives in some sports (like cycling), creates opportunities for us all to become hypocrites (myself included) when talking about others. Your quarterback’s a hero when he gets a shot of cortisone at halftime and returns to win the game; but a cyclist’s a cheater for accidentally ingesting something in an over the counter cold medicine? I smell a double standard—especially when we’re holding athletes to higher standards than other public figures (and in some cases, ourselves). What if we learned that George Clooney used __________________ during the production of his most recent film? Would we ban him from Hollywood for 2 years? Would we boycott the movie? Would Clooney still be eligible for an Oscar? No, no, and yes.

But before you get on my case for being a pessimist, nihilist, or just a guy with a bad attitude, let me share some ideas (perhaps not new) that might go a long way toward cleaning things up a bit—in cycling (everyone else is on their own).

1. Choose a date that grants amnesty to any rider/manager/doctor/staff member convicted or suspected of doping on or before it. If you really want to build a “clean” sport from the ground-up, you need to give it a clean slate with which to start. Amnesty gives athletes a clear conscience with which to make changes to the way they do things. It also shows trust, creating an environment free of the “you’re a doper until proven otherwise” mentality maintained by many of the sport’s skeptics. Sometimes the only thing people need to do the right is the belief that you trust them to do the right thing. Amnesty accomplishes that. But if it doesn’t?

2. Give any rider convicted of doping after the amnesty date a statutory lifetime ban (following a fair and transparent trial and appeal process). Harsh? Perhaps. But a “clean slate for all” approach works only if it’s given some teeth to deal with those who take advantage of it. A statutory lifetime ban forces even the most hardened doper to think twice. For many riders, a 2-year suspension is just a sabbatical—a chance to rest, train, spend time with family, and maybe start working on an autobiography. A lifetime ban doesn’t mean time for a vacation—it means time for a career change. But while this might work, it still makes doping (or getting caught) a problem an issue only for the rider doing it—we need something more universal, something that makes doping everyone’s problem. So…

3. Penalize teams too. I don’t care what the managers say: it’s hard for riders to do anything without their teams knowing about it—somehow. Teams need to stop being able to handle their dopers simply by firing them and distancing themselves from the situation as quickly as possible. If a rider dopes while under contract, it’s not only his problem—it’s his team’s as well. Don’t you think teams would be a bit more vigilant (especially the smaller ones from which most positives arise) if they faced suspensions too? Do you think your teammates would keep their mouths shut if they knew your actions could prevent them from earning a living?

Currently, most measures aimed at preventing doping do so while ignoring the fact that only a small percentage of riders dope to win races. My proposed plan cuts to the heart of the matter, attempting to address why riders dope, instead of only worrying about the fact that they do it in the first place. And why do they? Because for many of these men, cycling is not a sport or a pastime—it’s a job, in some cases, the only one they’ve ever been any good at. They don’t dope to win races, they dope to make a name for themselves, earn a spot on a professional team, or convince management that they’re worth one more year. Doping is a calculated risk taken in order to maintain their standing in what is likely the only career path they’ve ever known. My proposals make the risk too great for the simple fact that when caught it takes away their jobs—for good.

Phew, I’m exhausted. Time for an espresso.