In a few minutes, the first rider will roll down the start ramp for the Tour de France prologue at Strasbourg, and already the first post-Lance Tour is mired in scandal. The fallout from last month’s Operaci

Three days in, and holy cats – $380 received from 13 generous people I’ve never met, plus another $200 pledged. Along with Elden’s match, that puts us over 2/3rds of the way to the Fatty Rules Jersey. Which brings me to another point: I’m not exactly a, whaddayacallit, graphic artist. So if anybody out there wants to help me design the thing, please get in touch (jls at jls dot cx will work fine).
Also, I’m going to need about three weeks’ lead time to get the jersey done. If you want to have a chance at taking it home, please donate now. I promise not to stink it up too much.

Today, Elden acknowledged my callout. And, to my great satisfaction, my fellow FC readers responded. In the first few hours we’ve raised another $160, which will be matched by both me and Elden. Thanks to everybody who donated, and to those of you who left comments over at FC to let everybody know just how big a deal the PMC is. We’ve got a ways to go before we hit the “Fatty Rules” jersey level, and even further before – ulp – I have to figure out how I’m going to survive nearly 200 miles without coasting. But I hope we get there. Really. So if you want to join the fun, step right up.

6/27 update: Welcome, fellow Fat Cyclist readers!
So PMC is a mere eight weeks away, and I’ve raised only 10% of the minimum I for the ride. “Plenty of time,” part of me says. “You need to get on the stick,” responds the other part. I’ve started reaching out to everybody I know – friends, classmates, co-workers, people who stand too close to me on the T. If I haven’t asked you yet, consider this fair warning. You could just save me the trouble and go pledge.
But the part of me that’s saying “get on the stick” is whispering a few other things, too, such as “you don’t actually know all that many people.” Now the people I do happen to know are mostly generous (or at least they were before I started posting on the Internet about the voices in my head), so I’m confident that they’ll come through. But this isn’t an exercise in meeting the minimum. I want to raise as much money as I can, and I’m not terribly concerned about looking ridiculous in the process.
I happen to know another guy who likes to ride bike and knows a thing or two about cancer. Coincidentally he’s also got a big ride coming up in August, and his flair for looking ridiculous is well known in certain circles.
That’s right; I’m calling out the Fat Cyclist. I’m shamelessly attempting to use his miniscule celebrity as a lever for my microscopic celebrity, all in the name of cancer fundraising.
So, here’s what I propose:
1. I will match dollar-for-dollar, up to $1000, any donation from a Fat Cyclist blog reader or FC himself. Just put “Fatty Rules” in the comments when you donate.
2. If FC readers give me up to $1500 in donations, I’ll have the folks at Voler make me up a custom “Fatty Rules” jersey to wear on the second day. We are, ahem, encouraged to wear the official PMC jersey on the first day. In turn, I encourage anyone with embarrasing vector art or extremely high resoluton photos of FC to email me. One caveat here: I will need three weeks or so to get the jersey done, so don’t wait.
4. If FC readers shoot the moon and donate $2000 or more, I’ll do the whole route – 192 miles – on my fixed gear. While wearing the jersey.
5. Since this is, of course, all about the Fat Cyclist: If Fatty makes his goal weight for the Leadville 100 by the time I go to the start on the evening of August 4th, I’ll throw in another $500. Of course I will require suitable documentation of this achievement. And if he doesn’t make his goal, maybe I’ll do the ride on his fixie.
Of course, I’m open to counter-suggestions from the man himself, so this list may expand.
A little bit about PMC – this ride has a low profile outside of New England, but it’s a massive charity event. Last year, about 4,000 riders raised $23 million for Dana Farber Cancer Institute in Boston, one of the premiere pediatric and adult cancer research centers in the United States. Ninety-nine percent of the money raised goes to cancer research, so this is an extremely efficent way to help out. This year the goal is $25 million – please help us get there.

I’m pleased to report that my PMC fundraising is underway; my bike-riding buddies Jamie and Ivy have both pledged to support my ride. And I’d like to thank them again for doing so – there are plenty of worthy ways to spend that hard-earned money, and I’m honored that they chose my ride. So you’ve lost your chance to be first, but you can be next. If you’d like to join them, you can do so via my PMC profile page.
For my part, training has been going pretty well. My spring racing campaign came to a soggy end in Sterling this weekend, unfortunately to no great result. Between this race and Turtle Pond a few weeks ago, I’ve learned to be wary of roads that are named after hills. From here on out, I’ll focus more on endurance but I must admit that I like the local training criteriums more than I expected. They’re short, intense and chaotic. No falling asleep on somebody’s wheel, I’m too busy dodging dropped water bottles and setting up for turns.
But I’ll need the endurance more than the intensity of a half-hour training race. I ride my bike a bunch, but I’ve never ridden 192 miles in two days as I will do come this August. Thanks for helping me make that happen.

No, I don’t have cancer. But many people around me have had their lives changed or cut short by the many diseases we know as cancer. That’s one of the reasons I signed up for the Pan-Mass Challenge. The PMC is a primary fundraiser for Dana Farber Cancer Institute (through the Jimmy Fund), and last year raised over $23 million for DFCI.
My part in all this is modest, but challenging nonetheless. On August 4th and 5th I’ll ride the 192-mile route from Sturbridge (in west-central Massachusetts) to Provincetown (at the extreme end of Cape Cod). For that privilege, I’ll need to raise at least $3500. But I’d like to raise a whole lot more. That, of course, is where you can help me. You can donate through my PMC Profile Page, or by getting in touch with me.
Over the next few weeks I plan to write more about the specifics of why I’m riding, how my training is going, and who is coming along with me. Until then, thanks for reading, and take care.

This morning I went for my longest-ever fixed gear ride. I did a little over two hours on the fixie, dodging the season’s first snowflakes over the rolling hills of Canton and Stoughton. I enjoyed the ride, though getting out the door was a trial. When I headed to the basement, I knew I had two quick tasks to accomplish before I could head out: I needed to mount a computer on the fixed-gear bike, and I had to flip the rear wheel around from the freewheel side to the fixed gear side. Together, these should take about five minutes. Here’s how it actually went down:
8:35am – Felt a quick flush of satisfaction when I found the computer mount without having to rummage through a pile of junk
8:37 – Flush started to fade as I realized I only had one of the three zip ties I needed to secure the mount to the fork.
8:38 – Back on top of the world after I improvised with a little vinyl tape.
8:40 – Realized the screw that holds the computer bracket on the handlebar is missing. The flush started to feel more like embarassment. In a flash I decided to cannibalize the screw from another bike with the same kind of mount.
8:45 – After much fumbling with screwdriver, mount is secure. I decided to pump up the tires before removing the rear wheel and flipping it around. Good thing, since I ripped the valve stem out when I removed the pump. If that had happened after I had taken the rear wheel out and put it back again, I would have been really bummed.
8:53 – New inner tube mounted on rear wheel.
8:55 – Bike is ready to go, but I had to dash upstairs to get the chain grease off of hands.
9:00 – Finally out the door.
With that frustration behind me, I was free to enjoy two hours of Just Riding Along Without Coasting. The fall colors aren’t as spectacular as I’ve seen them in previous years, but even with the snow it beat the heck out of another day on the trainer.
After the ride I just had to sit down and figure out how fast my legs moved at max speed. My top recorded speed was 27.3 MPH, or 43.9 Km/h. The bike’s wheel circumference is nominally 2096mm, so at 43.9 Km/hI was doing about 349 wheel revs per minute. The bike had a gear ratio of 2.625, so my max pedal RPM was about 133, which is fast but not blazing (I’ve heard that track racers will hit 170 in sprints).
So, how fast were my feet moving? The crank has a diameter of 345mm, 133 Revs/min * .345 m/rev * 3.14 = 144 m/min = ~8.6Km/h = 5.18MPH. Which is not nearly as fast as it felt.

Cycling isn’t just about the body. There’s a machine involved. Usually I like this part; the machine enables me to go farther and faster than I could ever carry myself on foot. Somehow the machine seems to know that and finds ways of asserting its prominence. For instance, instead of going to bed early on Friday night to try to kick my cold, I was straining to mount new tires on my bike. I managed to pop two inner tubes in the process, further lengthening the ordeal. It seems that there’s always a chain to oil, or shifters to adjust, or handlebars to re-wrap. Not to mention the project bike I was supposed to finish before Maggie arrived back in May and hangs tonight, yet unridden, from its hook in the basement. Some may say it’s not about the bike, but probably only those who don’t maintain their own equipment. And I’m in that camp, at least until Andrew can turn a wrench.
I could probably get by with fewer than the four bikes I have in various states of operational readiness, but there’s nothing like a hot spare. I’d hate to lose a few days of riding to something stupid, like not having a bike to ride. But I could probably cut down on the projects. I’ve proven that I can build wheels and assemble a working road bike this year, so I don’t need to do that again.
Of course, that doesn’t mean that another bike won’t appear in the basement. But I’d better pay somebody else to put it together for me.

Last Thursday I had my yearly crash. This time around, nobody else was involved; just me, a damp corner, and a poor choice of line. I delayed my turn-in to miss a paint line near the curb and obviously tried to carve it a little too tightly. I went down to the inside and slide a little, earning a nice strawberry on my hip and a little road rash on both elbows. The guy behind me managed to avoid smacking into me, and I got off comparatively easy; no broken bones and no head injury.
Well, no visible head injury, anyway. Naturally enough I’ve lost a lot of my confidence in my corenering ability, which was one of the things I’d worked pretty hard to improve this year. Riding around this weekend I found myself braking more for even the most familiar corners. I know I’ll work my way back up, but it’s really disappointing to see such a hard-won skill evaporate so quickly.
Dangit.

Most cyclists – OK, I – prize speed. Fast is good, faster is better. Fast is cool. But, I have a secret. In my book, the coolest cyclists are the ones who are standing still. I’m talking about trackstands. If you live in a city center or perhaps in T-town, you’ve probably seen them. A biker rises from the saddle as he rolls to a stop, feet in the pedals, using the crown of the road and subtle weight shifts to balance the bike. Sometimes you’ll see a trackstander roll back and forth a bit, racheting the crank to stay upright.
Every time I see somebody do this I think dang, I wish I could do that. I’ve read everything I can find on how to do it. But, at heart, I’m a big chicken on the bike. I’m usually the first guy to unclip when approaching a stop. Not to mention the fact that I’m vain. I’d rather not fall over in the middle of the road while trying to perfect my technique. I’ve already spent enough time laying in the middle of the road this year, thanks, and that was mostly without witnesses.
But, after opening my yap just a bit too much on a group ride this weekend, I’ve decided it’s time to figure this out. No more reading, I need to practice. My commute route runs through a park with some nice, grassy slopes, so I’ve resolved to practice at least once a week until I get it nailed. Here’s what I learned in my first lesson:

• Relax The first few times I carried a lot of tension in my uppper body and really jerked the front wheel around as I slowed to a halt. That didn’t help. Once I learned to get out of the saddle and just lean on the handlebars a bit, the bike stopped moving around so much.
• Look up Once I remembered to look out at the horizon instead of at the ground immediately in front of the bike, I found I had an easier time keeping my balance.
• Lube the chain, dummy I don’t do much maintenance on my commuter bike, so the chain stuck a bit when I backpedaled. This made it impossible to move forwad a little bit by racheting the crank. Once I got things unstuck I could keep the crank more-or-less level but rachet them a bit to move forward at a crawl.

I didn’t quite get to the point where I could stand still for more than a split second, but I did progress past the point where I had to put my foot down every time I got close to a stop. Small progress, but it’s a start. We’ll see how the second session goes.