Friday's Post Today or Monday's Post Two Days Ago, However You Wanna Look At It

For many years, racing in Brooklyn's Prospect Park was the mainstay of my cycling diet.  I'd roll out of bed, line up at dawn, and be home with 40 or 50 miles in my legs before the normal people had worked out where to go to brunch.  But then came kids, and a move to the Bronx, and I more or less left the park behind--except when the odd dignitary visited, of course:

Now however I've rediscovered my Inner Fred (he looks like this), and while I've put in a couple races in Central Park this season, today marked the first time I've raced a bike in Prospect Park since, as far as I can tall, March 2012--which I think may also have been the first time I raced the Ritte Rust Bucket, which looked like this at the time:

What a difference six years make:

Actually, they don't make that much of a difference, it's just a little rustier, just like its owner.

Anyway, my return to Prospect Park was something of a homecoming, and so I arrived in style astride my obnoxious Masters bike:

(The Renovo, but not from the race)

I'm pleased to report I rode a tactically perfect race, by which I mean I never stuck my nose in the wind and basically managed to spend all twelve laps hiding in the pack like a shy toddler behind a parent's legs.  Consequently I delivered a solid pass, which instilled in me a sense of accomplishment that even the promoter's post-race lecture about how slow my field had been riding could not diminish.  (I was in the 40+ field and I guess the 2/3 field, which started right before us, put like eight minutes into us.)  Also undiminished was my deep appreciation of the Renovo as a race bike--except for the damn placement of that single water bottle, which continues to irritate me.  Even so, I must profess my love this exotic and quirky bicycle, and as I rode I fantasized about having Renovo build me the perfect park racing bike.  Basically, it would be the Aerowood but with a second bottle cage mount, as well as a couple of features taking advantage of the unique properties of wood, these being:

• A little compartment with a hinged door on the top tube for storing spent gel packets (the hinges would be engineered to creak for that rustic feel);
• A cuckoo clock integrated into the headtube that strikes when I hit my max heart rate.

In the meantime, since I've been enjoying this bike so much I was curious if any other semi- or even full-blown professional bike bloggers had reviewed it, so I recently consulted a popular search engine to find out.  As far as I can tell nobody has, and what few write-ups there were seemed to be based on press releases, such as this one.  Sadly this means I have nobody to compare notes with--except for the commenters of course:

It's quite a lot more relaxed than any of those bikes. It makes a Synapse look like a time trialist's dream. It goes so far beyond not-a-race-bike geo that the set of recreational riders it would suit will mostly consist of the grossly fat and chronically unfit. At that level aero really is a moot point.

I love the idea that a couple millimeters or degrees here or there is all it takes to render a bike completely unraceable.  "Wait, 43mm of fork rake?  That's an endurance bike, you can't race that!"  Certainly having ridden the bike for nearly six months I can confidently say John doesn't know what the fuck he's talking about--though admittedly the "chronically unfit" comment does land pretty close to home.

Finally, as I immerse myself in Fred-dom there's one other thing that's won me over, and it's crabon wheels, but not for the reasons you'd expect.  See, for years my first cue that a crash was imminent would be the unmistakable crunching sound of a Fredly collision, at which point I'd scan the pack for falling bodies and employ evasive tactics.  Now that crabon wheels are pervasive however it's the screeching of brakes and--more importantly--the smell of hot cork pads as some Fred grabs a fistful of brake that alerts me to danger.  By the same logic I'd also suggest that disc brakes are indeed dangerous in mass start road races--not because the rotors might cut your limbs off, but because you can't really smell the damn things.  As it is, between the hair-raising sound and the smoldering stench, clearly crabon wheels with rim brakes act as a crucial early warning system.

I'd say they that USA Cycling should make them mandatory, but marketing has pretty much accomplished that already.

Trials And Fredulations

Top portion of the morning to you!

Sorry for my absence yesterday, I was engaged in mind-numbing tedium:

If you think that riding an exotic handmade bicycle for hours on end on a Wednesday and stopping for a light farm-to-table lunch before heading back home is something I enjoy doing then, well, obviously you're right.  Still, it's my responsibility as a semi-professional blogger to put this artisanal Fred crucifix through its paces, and that's exactly what I plan to do.

Speaking of the Renovo, I happened to read recently that they're receiving an investment from a wealthy Texan:

"As a longtime cyclist, I'd been following Renovo for several years and was blown away by the size of their operation, their technology, and of course, the performance of their bikes," Spinks said. "I immediately made the decision to invest upon seeing their state-of-the-art machines, tools and configurations in-process and watching their new designs come to fruition. And with this production-bike capability boost, our partnership becomes even more exciting and rewarding."

I'm assuming this is the Al Spinks we're talking about:

Al Spinks is an author, speaker, proven leader, entrepreneur, Silver Fox Advisor & life/performance coach. While serving as an enlisted man aboard nuclear submarines in the US Navy, he was selected to take part in a leadership program where he earned a B.S. degree (Aerospace engineering, University of Texas, Austin) and was promoted to the rank of 2nd Lt. (USMC). He then qualified as a Naval Aviator (NFO) and flew in high performance, tactical jets (EA-6A) from the decks of 4 aircraft carriers.

If so I'm pretty sure he was one of Etheline Tenenbaum's suitors in "The Royal Tenenbaums:"

Also--and I swear on my chamois Renovo has not asked me to share any of this, I've merely been stumbling upon this stuff in the normal course of my Internet usage--here's a video about Renovo's "SuperBikeBox:"

Order. Ride. Decide. With our HomeRide program, we deliver your bike in our innovative SuperBikeBox, allowing you to be on the road in less than 15 minutes. Ride it for a week, and return it if you're not in love with the ride quality! pic.twitter.com/WBBfdmsiBt

— Renovo Bicycles (@Renovobikes) March 14, 2018

As I believe I mentioned when I took delivery of the bike, this was by far the best-packed bicycle I've ever received.  I believe I also mentioned that I had no idea the box became a stand so I basically ripped it to shreds with a box cutter and then put the bike together on the floor.  So watching this video now makes me feel like a total idiot.

On the other hand, having destroyed the box means I can't return the bike, so who's the idot now?

Lastly, here's the Outside column about self-driving cars you knew had to be coming:

Even before the technology claimed its first victim last week I've wondered why the hell any cyclist would trust an industry that's turned much of the country into this:

But then again America loves a lying boyfriend.

People Sticking Their Goddamn Cars Where They Don't Belong

This past Sunday, after a vigorous Saturday morning of Road-Fredding, I found myself in the mood to ride a bicycle at a leisurely pace upon an unpaved surface.  So that's what I did:

The route I followed more or less described that of last year's BSNYC Pre-Fondon't-Turned-Actual-Fondon't.  By the way, if you're wondering whether or not there will be a Fondon't this year (pre- or otherwise), the answer is an emphatic "Dunno."

So there you have it.

Anyway, as I stood in the spot where I took that photo a gentleman out perambulating with his dog stopped to offer his opinion on my bicycle and on bike routes in general.  More specifically, he felt that even with the new bike path opening on the Tappan Zee soon that Route 9 should not be upgraded to include a bike lane.  He felt his views on these matters carried great weight because he "used to be a cyclist," and I've noticed that when I'm riding up in the suburbs I encounter a lot of these used-to-ride types who get transported into a sort of reverie by the sight of my bike.  I then find myself wondering why they no longer ride since they live in an area where opportunities to do so abound, but then I remember two things: 1) Not everybody is a semi-professional bike blogger who can fuck off for a ride on a semi-regular basis; and 2) I don't really care that much.

Finishing my snack and my conversation I then remounted and headed over to the Old Croton Aqueduct, which serves as the trunk route for most of my rides:

The OCA is a state park, and of course motor vehicles are emphatically not allowed on it--not that it stops people necessarily.  For example, here's a fuckwit from a few months ago who apparently got stuck in the mud and decided to leave his car there for a few days:

I'm sure he was up to important park business for the city of Yonkers:

The tracks, by the way, are still there--deep gashes in the trail--and as I approached that very same section this past Sunday I was deeply perturbed to find someone engaged in the act of driving on it:

The driver was creeping along slowly, and in front of the car was a woman dressed as though she'd just gotten out of bed, shuffling along like an extra from "One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest."

Baffled and angry at the same time, I beseeched the driver open his window then informed him that this was a state park and he was not allowed to be driving here.  Robotically, he replied that he knew.  I then asked if there was a reason he was driving here.  Robotically, he replied that there was, but it was none of my concern.  I then looked at the woman shuffling in front of the car and second-guessed myself: maybe she was mentally ill and I'd happened upon some some sort of intense personal drama.  Maybe she'd threatened to kill herself, plodded off into the woods, and he was tailing her until the police arrived.  So I asked him if there was a problem and if he needed any help.  Robotically he informed me that he did not.  So I told him I'd be making a call and asked if he minded if I took a picture.  Robotically he replied, "Yes, I do," to which I replied "Tough" and took the photo above.

Armed with the plate number, I then headed to the nearest intersection with a road to call 911, and as I was riding away the woman returned to the car and made the following ebullient announcement to the driver:

"I found them!  I found my keys!"

Holy fucking shit, it all made sense now.  Cuckoo's Nest had been looking for her keys and Douchebag Arigato Mister Roboto was her escort.  Here she is getting back in the car just after making the announcement:

Like any human being I have my share of regrets.  I try not to dwell on them, but it's impossible not to think about the opportunities that have slipped through my fingers over the years.  For example, I wish I'd gotten in on the Google IPO.  I wish I hadn't laughed off the price of Manhattan real estate in the '90s.  I wish I'd worn earplugs to the shows and concerts I attended as a teenager.

However, my biggest regret by far is not having immediately returned to that car, yanked the keys out of her hand, and thrown them as hard as I could into the fucking woods.

Instead, I called 911, and I continued my ride because 1) I had to get home; and B) I knew there would be no satisfactory outcome, so at least if I left I could fantasize that the police actually showed up and ticketed this asshole.

By the way, if I'm not doing a good job of conveying how lazy and inconsiderate these people are to be driving on a state park, consider how close they were to the nearest road:

These assholes couldn't have parked the fucking car and walked?!?  I mean presumably she was walking when she lost the keys in the first place.

Alas, the coyote scare 'round these parts may be over, but I don't think it's insensitive to hope that the next time these two visit the OCA wild dogs latch onto their genitals and don't let go.

It's only fair.

Yes, I'm Posting On A Saturday, But You Don't Have To Read It Until Monday

I am, ostensibly, a semi-professional bike blogger.  Furthermore, in my capacity as such, I am ostensibly engaged in a long-term test of the Renovo Aerowood sporting-style drop-bar bicycle.  And while these days my blogulations may be appearing with more frequency over at Outside or on the bike Bike Forecast, I can assure you that I've not been shirking my wood-testing responsibilities, and the purpose of this post is to update you on that ongoing testing forthwith.

By way of a reminder, here is the Renovo Aerowood:

That's ten grand's worth of wood and crabon you're looking at right there.

I also note that Renovo has now quoted me on the product page:

Five months later I still stand by that sentiment, though it does sound a little creepy out of context.

Anyway, apart from changing the saddle from a Selle Italia whatever-was-on-there to a Fizik (sorry, "F:i;//;%zi@k") whatever-it-is, I'm still riding the bike exactly as I received it:

Of course, there's a huge difference between even a long and challenging ride you undertake at your own pace and an race where you're pushing the bike as hard as you can, and for this I happen to believe that it's impossible to evaluate a bike like this without racing on it.   Does it feel stable when you're millimeters away from the wheel in front of you, or when exertion has robbed you of your finesse?  Are there quirks that only reveal themselves in the heat of battle?  Odd cable routings or poorly-placed braze-ons?  Basically, a bicycle's character comes into sharp relief when you're toiling atop it, and evaluating a racing-type bike without actually racing on it is like testing out a pair of sunglasses at the mall: they may seem okay, but you don't really know anything until you hit the beach.

As it happens, I've recently relapsed and after a multi-year hiatus have been tentatively dipping my Sidis into the tepid waters of amateur bicycle racing again.  In fact, the Renovo is partially responsible for my relapse, since riding a swoopy aero bike with crabon wheels and electronic shifting made me think to myself, "It sure would be fun to race this thing."  And so this very morning I headed down to Central Park and did just that.

This was my second race of the season, and as you may recall for my first race I opted to ride the Ritte Rust Bucket:

You may also recall that I got dropped, since jumping into the pack after a lengthy absence was a bit of a shock to the system.  This time around I was somewhat more prepared, at least psychologically.  I also opted for the Masters race due to the shorter distance and more genteel pace, though this was somewhat offset by the much smaller field which offered me no real place to hide.  The upshot of all of this is that while I was nowhere near the pointy end of things, I did ultimately complete the allotted number of laps alongside more than one other rider from my field, so I'm going to go ahead and call this go-round a skin-of-the-teeth "pass."

So now let's talk about the Renovo, of which I have no race-day photos because my phone died, so instead here's a picture of a woodpile:

Granted, this was only one race outing (and a particularly undistinguished one at that), but overall it performed very favorably as a race bike.  While I'd opted for the Ritte last time because I thought it might feel more stable, my concerns turned out to be unfounded and the Renovo inspired confidence beneath my scranular region at all times.  I also like the components much more in a racing context.  For example, consider the handlebars, which I don't have a photo of, but which I believe are these:

While I prefer my old-fashioned round-tubed handlebars for everyday riding, it turns out these weird nooks and bulges feel great when you're racing.  Furthermore, as flawless as the electronic shifting is, until today my impression has been, "Sure, it's really nice, but it's not that big a deal."  Now that I've raced on it however I totally think it is a big deal, because when you're clinging to the wheel in front of you for dear life like I generally am you really appreciate how amazingly consistent the electronic shifting is.  I'm not saying this translates into any meaningful performance benefits, but I am saying it feels really good--kind of like someone's kissing your hands every time you shift.  Also, you're probably a hell of a lot less likely to drop a chain with it, though Central Park is pretty much a big-ring course.

Of course, you can put fancy components on any bike.  Here's the real question: Is there anything inherent in the Renovo's woodiness that makes it perform well?  I dunno.  I do know the bike felt fast, and that going forward I'd choose it over the Ritte for my Fred races.  I also know this is what Renovo says about wood:

Wood is Smooth.

Renovos have an unequaled smooth ride. This is because vibration is absorbed by the wood itself, enhanced by our designs where appropriate.

Hey, my experiences with the bike don't contradict this, though whether it's because of the wood or because it's a well-fitting bike with lots of fancy parts on it is anybody's guess.  (I will say the bike felt pretty much the same with cheap metal wheels on it, so maybe the wood is in fact magical, but as a rule there are three things I'm very leery about putting faith in: divine beings; helmets; and frame materials.)

And in case you think I'm being disingenuous in expressing pleasure at riding an expensive bicycle, I can assure you that while it is indeed a lot of fun to ride it ain't perfect.  Consider, for example, this:

That is the bicycle's only bottle cage mount.  Firstly, it seems odd to me to bill something as an "endurance" bike and then equip it with only one bottle mount.  Secondly, while I like my bottle in the seat tube cage for more casual riding, when I'm splayed out over the bars in a race-type situation it's much easier to reach down and grab a bottle off the downtube, so being forced to keep it here was annoying.  And while it remains to be seen whether or not I'll find myself fit enough this summer to contest any hot two-bottle races, carrying a pair of bottles certainly is something your racing bike should allow you to do.

So that's where we stand so far, but rest assured there's lots more testing to come.  And while I'm a long way from drawing any conclusions about this bicycle, I think we can all agree that in many ways a $10,000 hunk of wood is perhaps the quintessential Masters bike, and that the only way I could have out-Mastered myself this morning would have been by taking it home on the back of a Porsche Boxster.

Snow and Freds and Coyotes Oh My!

As you may have heard, yesterday we received a great big spring snowstorm for our convenience, so I made sure to head out for a ride while I had the chance:

It's on days like this when I congratulate myself for living near a park with mountain bike trails, even if it's a small one next to a subway station:

This is called called "having priorities."

Or, if you prefer, it's called "being a gigantic bike dork."

Of course, into each life a little snow must fall, something to which I am reconciled.  I am also, if not reconciled, at least used to bad drivers.  Somewhat less familiar to me however are rabid coyotes, the recent advent of which is the subject of my latest column for Outside:

As any mention of snow elicits the "Minnesota humblebrag," I'm sure this mention of scary wildlife will inspire at least one backwoods dweller to casually mention that they regularly encounter grizzlies or panthers or ornery Sasquatches on their rides and that they keep rabies vaccine in their water bottles.  (#whatrabiesvaccinetocytomaxratioyourunning)  Therefore, I realize I'm taking a considerable risk by mentioning both snow and wildlife encounters in this post.  Indeed, the only way I could open myself up to more humblebraggadocio would be to mention vehicular cycling, and I imagine someone who regularly rides in snow, regularly rides among deadly wildlife, and adheres strictly to the tenets of vehicular cycling would be the perfect storm of irritating smugness.

A rabid coyote encounter would most likely be preferable to an Internet exchange with such a beast.

The Concept Of Fredness Is Universal

Killer autonomous vehicles, rancorous community board meetings, stupid biplane-inspired handlebars...sometimes covering the bike beat can be depleting, soul-sucking work.  So it is at these times that, in search of respite, I find myself turning to news of other subcultures and reveling in the fact that their problems don't affect my life in any way whatsoever.  This is why I was delighted to read a story about how Rockaway Beach is being invaded by Surf Freds:

Winter surfing in Rockaway Beach used to be for the locals and the hard-core. But lately, it’s been overrun by newcomers in expensive wetsuits. https://t.co/gHK81hrMbE

— NYT Metro (@NYTMetro) March 18, 2018

Ah yes, this was just the balm my aching spirit needed, especially since it sounds like surfing is analogous to cycling in so many ways.  For example, they have their fancy wetsuits:

Surfing Rockaway Beach in the bitter cold used to be a solitary affair, only for locals and the hard-core. But because of a boom in popularity of the sport, the gentrification of the neighborhood and advancements in wet-suit technology (a $600, five-millimeter- thick suit can keep you warm for two hours), the frigid city surf has gotten crowded, locals say.

And we have our Assos:

And our Rapha:

(Jesus suffering in style in his Rapha Gilet)

They have their strange rules that make absolutely no sense:

Surfers have many unwritten rules of etiquette. Changing at the beach is one of them. “If someone travels to the beach with their wet suit already on, they’re considered a bad surfer right there,” Mr. Mattison said.

And so do we*:

(The Piercing Gaze of Fredliness)

*[Actually the glasses-over-the-helmet-straps thing does make sense since if your helmet is properly adjusted the straps can squeeze your glasses, but frankly you can wear your glasses upside down and your helmet on your ass for all I care.]

By the way, why are you a bad surfer if you wear your wetsuit to the beach?  I mean sure, I guess I can see how it's dorky, like people who ride to the grocery store and shop with their helmets on, but does it also somehow affect your surfing performance?  Is there something about letting the ocean breeze caress your perineum as you change behind the door of your vintage Bronco that puts you in touch with surfing's ineffable zen-like quality in a way that stewing in your own crotchal juices on the A train does not?

Then of course you've got the wobbly noobs:

Later on that cold and cloudy February day, after his 90-minute subway journey through Manhattan and Brooklyn to Queens, Mr. Crowley stood with Mr. Mattison and looked out over the Atlantic. It was 8:30 a.m. and there were already 20 surfers in the water despite the dinky, one-foot-high swell. They watched two surfers nearly run into each other trying to catch the same wave.

“Only at Rockaway,” Mr. Mattison said.

I guess that's like when you ride over the George Washington Bridge on a weekend and have to wait behind 30 Freds and Tridorks who can't negotiate the switchback on the Manhattan side without clipping out of their pedals.

But of course the greatest part about all of this is the idea that a small group of surfers can claim ownership of something as vast as the sea because they happen to have been born nearby, or because know when and where to get dressed:

(The disembodied hand of Bob Ross.)

Also absurd is the notion that a stretch of beach that's easily accessible by subway and bicycle should somehow remain free of city-dwellers in search of beach fun and the businesses that cater to them:

Mr. Vasquez compared the Rockaway surfer scene to what’s happened to New York in general. “There’s a grittiness that you miss about the old New York. It’s the same with the beach. You felt like it was your special thing. Now everyone wants to be a surfer.”

Wow, wanting to surf at the beach, imagine that.  I mean it's only been a resort since the 19th century:

Though I hear they'd totally "spear" you if you arrived at the beach in your swimming costume instead of changing into it in one of those old-timey beach huts:

(Locals only, bro.)

Granted, certainly when I was growing up nearby it was hard to believe Rockaway was ever a resort (though Rockaways' Playland was still open), but the fact remains that in the context of New York City history a non-touristy Rockaway is basically an aberration.  And of course as a cyclist (as well as someone who used to go to Rockaways' Playland) I certainly relate to the grousing about people who don't "get it," but you have to give people the time to figure out that there's something to be got.

The bottom line is that if there are two things people enjoy doing it's riding bikes and going to the beach, so if you don't like other people doing it too you're going to have a really hard time.

I guess what I'm saying is that we should all be more accepting and focus our derision on those damn kiteboarders.

No New Cockpits Under The Sun

Great news!  The biplane has landed:

So far, response from social media has been enthusiastic:

pic.twitter.com/hjkrzCNJuv

— Victory Chimp (@VictoryChimps) March 15, 2018

Obviously the first question that comes to mind is a highly technical one, and it is as follows:

Why???

Duh, because gravel, that's why:

The Hover bar is Canyon’s totally unique integrated carbon cockpit that the new Grail gravel bike was designed around. 

The Hover bar (otherwise known as the ‘Canyon CP01 Gravel Carbon) was developed in a bid to improve front end comfort and control without the added complication and weight of a Future Shock-style system or a suspension fork.

So instead of the suspension fork you don't need you've now got a double-decker bar you don't need.  Plus, the design falls short of even amateur cockpit engineering efforts, since it doesn't incorporate braking from the additional hand positions:

(The legendary "puppeteer" setup.)

Confused yet?  You're not alone:

Unlike every other drop bar in existence — where the stem attaches to a clamping area in the middle of the tops of the bar — the Hover bar places the tops of the bar above a stem that connects to an additional bar that in turn connects the apex of the hooks.

If that sounds confusing, that’s because it is, and I highly recommend you closely examine the included photos to actually begin to understand what’s going on.

But it's still not as confusing as the bar I'm designing:

The real question on my gravel-specific Mobius Bar is going to be which direction to wrap the bar tape:

Of course it may have occurred to you that if you want a funky-looking bar that offers various hand positions for all-terrain riding you could always go with a Jones H-Bar:

Which is why the savvy among you have no doubt already figured out that this design is less about control and front end compliance for gravel-grinding and more about people who suffer from crabon-itis yet can't come to grips with the fact that they need a few more headset spacers, an angled stem, or perhaps a bike with a taller headtube:

Canyon developed the Hover bar for two reasons: to provide a long-distance friendly upright riding position without resorting to using a super-long head tube or high-rise stem, and in a bid to improve front end compliance.

Oh sure, this is way more elegant than a taller headtube or angled stem:

Please it even makes this look elegant:

It is truly astounding the lengths (and heights) people will go to in order to attain the riding position of a Rivendell with a crabon bike:

And let's not forget the prescience of Sheldon Brown:

Canyon?  More like Can-yawn.

New Outside Column!

Hey, look at that, I've got a new grouping of words over on the Outside website!

I'm sure it will inspire much "Vehicular Cyclist Exceptionalism" as well as various quasi-libertarian comments about "personal responsibility."

Speaking of which, here's a story about New Zealanders questioning the absurdity of helmet laws:

Note the co-anchor foregoes his helmet when he rides to the "deery."

I have no idea what that means.

Don't Buy Upgrades, Ride Software Upgrades

Well, racing bikes outside had a good run.  In 1869 it was high-wheelers gentlemanly glove-slaps:

[PDF]

In 1903 came the first-ever Tour de France:

And for some reason to this day cyclists keep racing against horses:

How is that fair?  Shouldn't Casper also have to pull a passenger?

Actually, for it to be truly fair he should have to pull a horse.

Regardless, after well over a century and a half of thrill, spills, and doping scandals, it appears the days of racing bikes outside are over, only to be replaced with this:

Someday in the not-too-distant future, the world’s premier cycling races are held inside arenas packed with screaming fans. The cyclists do not travel an inch on their bicycles — instead, they pedal invisible miles on a stationary trainer. The attacks, counter-attacks, and strategic drama play out in the virtual world on a computer screen. Across the globe, hundreds of thousands of fans tune in to watch.

This is Frank Garcia’s vision.

And if your first thought was that Frank Garcia must be a masters racer with too much money on his hands, then it shouldn't surprise you to learn that you're right:

Garcia, 53, is a software engineer and entrepreneur from Tucson, Arizona. A longtime cyclist and masters racer, Garcia was an early adopter of the virtual training platform Zwift. Garcia’s passion for Zwift racing was so strong that in 2015 he rode the entire elevation of Mt. Everest in the virtual world, pedaling 165 miles on his stationary trainer over the course of 17 hours.

Over the past year, Garcia has bankrolled a series of virtual races on Zwift, called Cycligent Virtual Ranking, or CVR. In 2017, he held live CVR World Cup tournaments in Las Vegas, Paris, and London; each event was broadcast across the globe via a webcast that included live commentary, racing metrics such as power output, and even athlete interviews. CVR’s next event is the March 25 World Cup race at the VELO Sports Center velodrome at the StubHub Center in Los Angeles. CVR will award $100,000 in cash and prizes to its competitors this winter.

As antithetical as all of this might appear to be to the spirit of cycling and bicycle racing, the truth is I only have one problem with it, and it is this:

If it's all virtual, then why wear cycling clothes?

Seriously, isn't all this stuff optimized for propelling a bicycle forward while being outside?  Seems to me that aerodynamics mean nothing here and cooling is everything.  I mean what's with the sleeves?  Have they never seen a SoulCycle class?

Indeed, at the pro level it would probably make the most sense to compete "Full Cipo" for maximum cooling, with perhaps the judicious application of some small taintal pad to protect the perineum--and if virtual racing really is the future I may start selling a new product called the "Stand-Alone Chamois:"

Just add a light adhesive and you're off (virtually) to the races.

Oh, and one other thing bothers me about this whole thing:

Why hold the races in a velodrome?

Isn't that like going to a movie theater to stream Netflix on a tablet?

I mean really, you're already in the clothes, and you've already got the bike, and there's a perfectly good track 20 feet away, so why not just...oh, never mind.

Sounds like thrilling viewing:

In September, Garcia held his third race at the National Velodrome in Paris. The tournament featured a prize purse of $44,735, paid in part by Garcia and through donations — fans that tuned into the broadcast submitted cash through online transactions to boost the prize pot. Similar to the previous competitions, every athlete had a camera pointed at them throughout the racing.

If you can't get enough of sweaty people wincing in a non-sexual context then clearly this is the spectator sport for you.

By the way, speaking of competitive pedaling without going anywhere, whatever happened to roller racing?  It was having a big comeback until everyone gave up on track bikes and defected to gravel bikes:



Oh, well, it was fun boring while it lasted.

In any case, as long as pro bike racers are desperate for money there will be no shortage of virtual cycling competitors, which means the future of the sport is all but assured:

“For $100,000, I’ll do any bike race, any format, it’s all suffering one in the same,” said Jelly Belly rider Ben Wolfe.

For $50 he'll also help you move.

And even USA Cycling, that most desperate of sports governing bodies, is in the "early stages" of exploring it:

UCI representatives did not respond to queries about any future relationships with CVR. USA Cycling provided a statement that said any plans between the governing body and Zwift are “still in the early stages.”

“We are exploring engaging new ways to collaborate that offer more value to our core racers as well as bring new riders into the sport,” the statement said.

USA Cycling should probably just stop with the bike racing and pivot to becoming a moving company already.