Breaking the Duck: Coming to Terms with Cycling

This past weekend, the Amstel Gold Race took place in the Netherlands. The Netherlands (which is in Europe) should not be confused with the "nether regions" (with are in your pants); nor should the Amstel Gold Race, which is a "Classic" road race, be confused with the "Amstel Light race," which is when a bunch of people who have been drinking large quantities of watery beer compete for the use of a bar's only restroom. In the case of the latter, to the loser goes the spoils--if of course by "spoils" you mean "wetting your nether regions." In the case of the former, apparently the big question on everybody's mind beforehand was whether or not the Dutch would be able to "break their duck:"

Not being a sports fan, I had honestly never heard of "breaking your duck" before I read this (though I have heard of stepping on a duck), so I assumed that it either referred to the consequences of excessive "foffing off," or else that it was actually a typo for "brake your duck" and was intended as a nod to the growing "freestyle ducking" scene. Anyway, I guess their duck remained intact, since Philippe Gilbert of Belgium won, after which he went around embracing his teammates one duck at a time:

Inasmuch as "palpable" means "able to be touched or felt," I was a little concerned that Gilbert was able to literally touch or feel his teammates' relief as he hugged them, as it implies that his victory may have raised a little more than some eyebrows. Indeed, it sounds like the ducks over at Amstel Gold may have been a little too intact. This is not the first time relief at Amstel has been palpable, either; back in 2001, when Eric Dekker beat Lance Armstrong, you could "palp" his relief from quite a long distance:

Tragically, Dekker broke his duck later that day while celebrating privately (and vigorously) in his "nether regions."

Of course, the naysayers ("naysayers" is pretentious for "haters") will say that Gilbert had an easy time of it since a bunch of favorites were unable to travel due to that Icelandic volcano that sounds like a death metal band:

I too invoked the volcano as an excuse (praise be to Lob, mighty Provider of Excuses) for not doing any number of things this past weekend, including: visiting relatives; getting out of bed; brushing my teeth; or putting on pants. There's nothing easier than spending a weekend in bed and occasionally poking your head out from under the covers in order to utter the words "Can't--Eyjafjallajökull" when someone attempts to wake you up--except for actually saying "Eyjafjallajökull," of course, which is pretty hard. (I mostly just pronounced it, "Leave me alone.")

I did manage to do one thing this weekend, though, which was to visit the bathroom and peruse the May issue of "Men's Journal," which is the one with Robert Downey, Jr. making "karate hands" on the cover:
I'm totally "feeling" the "karate hands" gesture and am now incorporating it into my everyday interactions by using it as visual punctuation at the end of my sentences. I use it not to be threatening, but more as a sort of "douche-clamation" point. For example, it's great when you want to be that irritating guy ordering food. "Can I get a Jarritos with that 'epic' burrito? Thanks, dude. [Insert karate hands "douche-clamation point" here.] " (For extra "douche cred," wear an expensive watch and have an idling Range Rover or Mercedes SUV double-parked out front.)

Anyway, the reason I was reading this issue of "Men's Journal" is because I'm in it [insert karate hands here], but I was amused to see it also features a cyclocross-themed fashion photo spread, complete with Tim Johnson wearing a $1,930 Louis Vuitton windbreaker:

Obviously, few things go better together than cyclocross and windbreakers--except possibly cyclocross and Luis Vuitton. Ironically, this is a huge coup for Rapha, since it makes the $195 Rapha jersey and $205 Rapha bib shorts Johnson is wearing seem eminently affordable. Still, as incongruous as this is, I was nonetheless pleased to see hardworking riders like Tim Johnson, Jeremy Powers, and Jamey Driscoll getting the sort of attention usually reserved for more "mainstream" athletes. I also hope they at least let Johnson keep the windbreaker, and that he'll wear it on the podium next season while making "karate hands."

Of course, in addition to wisecracks from some guy with a book to promote and photos of hip athletes modeling "lifestyle" clothes, no glossy men's magazine would be complete without a first-person account of some guy undertaking an "epic" adventure in order to shake up his otherwise mundane life. Just as the "Hero's Journey" typically involves the elements of "Separation, Transformation, and Return," the tale of the Glossy Men's Magazine Hero (or "GMMH") generally follows this template:

1) GMMH (think Robert Mackey) is having a "Midlife Crisis;"
2) GMMH learns of a highly organized, pre-packaged "ordeal" that takes place in an exotic location (otherwise known as an "adventure vacation");
3) GMMH purchases a bunch of expensive equipment for aforementioned "ordeal;"
4) GMMH succeeds in completing "ordeal", seemingly against the odds though in fact totally in keeping with the odds since the "ordeal" is designed for and marketed to people exactly like him. (Think me.)

In this particular issue of "Men's Journal," the GMMH "epic" adventure story is called "What Doesn't Kill Us Will Save Our Marriage," and it's about a guy who, along with his wife, decides to take part in the "Speight's Coast to Coast," which is some kind of cycling/running/kayaking thing in New Zealand. (Multi-disciplinary "ordeals" provide for maximum equipment-purchasing opportunities.) What was particularly noteworthy to me was that, despite choosing an "ordeal" that involves cycling, the author really doesn't seem to like it. In fact, he says in the beginning that, as a result of his adventure vacation, he "made my peace with road cycling (except for the dorky helmets, clumsy cleats, fey costumes, and cyclists themselves)."

You know, because there's nothing dorky about running and kayaking.

One essential component of the GMMH ordeal is that it be sidebar-friendly so that the magazine can provide a handy list of stuff you can purchase in order to do the same thing. Here's the bike portion of that sidebar:

Yes, nothing "nichey" about a custom Seven. I mean, I realize the guy is really tall and that a custom bike makes sense, but this is a pretty extravagant purchase for someone who, four months before a cycling trip to New Zealand, doesn't even own a bike and has "never used clip-in pedals." Then again, he does plan to still be riding it 20 years from now. (In a strange universal paradox, custom titanium road bikes are always "The last bike I'll ever buy" yet are also perpetually for sale lightly used on the Serotta forums.) Also, I know what you're wondering, and the answer is, "Yes, the headtube on that Seven is massive:"

("Epic" headtubes for "epic" rides.)

Despite (or perhaps because of) owning a fine custom titanium Seven bicycle, the author is still at odds with cycling. As he says at one point in the article:

I've become familiar with several subspecies of athlete--from data-driven, can't-shut-up-about-it triathletes to aggro, ascetic power lifters--but cyclists are among the worst. Because I'm tall (6-foot-7), I bit the bullet and went custom, shelling out five grand and change for a Seven Axiom S. The featherweight titanium goosed my speed but also got me hazed.

"Seven, huh?" asked one cyclist who came up from behind me on a country road in January. He wore clear wraparound Oakleys to keep me from tearing up in the wind and Gore-Tex booties over his cleats to keep his toes warm (it was 40 degrees). We chatted briefly about how I liked the Seven (a lot) and the company's pedigree (Merlin, the titanium mountain bike specialist). Then he mused, pointedly, "Yep. A lot of money on these roads. Makes you wonder if they'll ever learn to ride." They?

It's possible the guy with the shoe covers (I'm not sure what's wrong with wearing shoe covers when it's 40 degrees) was hazing him, but it's also possible that, after spending thousands of dollars on a custom bicycle, the author has become acutely self-conscious. (Ownership is pain.) Either way, though, regardless of how experienced you are, at a certain point you sort of forfeit the right to be critical of others' elitism. It's like writing an article about your winery tour and saying, "Boy I hate these wine snobs with their talk of bouquets, grapes, and mouthfeel. Anyway, as I was leaving the wine shop with my $900 bottle of 1982 Chateaux LaDouche..."

In any case, the guy and his wife eventually manage to finish the race. While I would never begrudge anyone (or couple) their vacation, this article still makes me wonder why so many people seem to want to spend thousands and thousands of dollars to equip themselves for activities they don't seem to enjoy. Sure, glossy magazines need to promote this whole "adventure" idea to bored people with money, but just once I'd like to read an article called "Having a Really Awesome Time Using Shit You Already Have."

As for the GMMH in this article, I hope he really does keep his Seven for 20 years; moreover, I hope he also continues to embrace cycling, "fey costumes" at all. However, if he doesn't, he can take solace in the fact that he can always trade the bike in for a suit of armor (as you can see in this Craigslist post which was forwarded to me by a reader):



Power X Bicycle and Accessories (willing to trade for suit of armor) - $40 (Knoxville)

Date: 2010-04-18, 9:59PM EDT
Reply to: [deleted]

1 Bicycle
1 UT Construction hat
1 Broken Pair of sunglasses
1 Franzia Helmet
1 Slightly Used Baseball Bat

$40 or willing to trade for 1 suit of armor, 1 box of dino snacks, and $15 for booze.

If he thinks cyclists are bad, just wait until he hits the "renaissance faire" circuit.

Posted in: cycling media,road racing