I'm a debatable gentleman and endurance sport activist living in Los Angeles. Here, we'll talk about the second of those two things...
Now we’re talking. I like to talk. Most people just write in and tell me I remind them of some friend named Jessica, or suggest that I die. The rest, I really should spend more time answering. I appreciate your appreciation of my attitude — I’m proud of it. I try to do things right. Your tone is slightly trollish based on exaggerations, but also ballpark astute, so you are welcome here. I do know what I am doing - or at least I know more about what I am doing than I did yesterday, and the day before. Still much to learn. Does your grandma look like me? Can I meet her? She sounds very well built and handsome. If I were able to be 10x more aero, how fast would I be able to go? Mach 7? Mach 8? As fast as Chevy Chase sledding in Christmas Vacation? That would be ideal. Okay, okay, but seriously. My position is actually not as horrific as you make it out to be. Do you think I always ride like I am riding into transition at IM Canada, with my right aerobar snapped at the bolt and clinging to my left by a Specialized rubber band? Or do you think maybe, as you offered, I know a little bit about what I am doing?
Let’s be real here. I owe you that much for your backhanded compliments. Last year, I rode a pretty incredible bike, a Shiv TT. It was a large, but likely too small for someone 6’4. Wildly aggressive, wildly aero. Wasn’t so bad when I only had to cover 56 miles. But in Kona, chafing became raw, torn skin and so much pain I didn’t even care about staying aero the last 20 miles home into a brutal headwind. Didn’t care. Left a rusty puddle of blood-water on the seat of a T2 plastic chair, and at some point of my limping most of that run course I maybe told myself…how bout aim for a little more comfort in 2014. It was a traumatic experience that lasted about as long as it took me to stop walking crooked. Now that I’ve offered so much, and have spent the good part of this season getting comfortable on a bike that fits me, I will say “more aero” has been a conversation I’ve been having with my coaches lately. They’re still undecided.
I’m a lot of things, but I’m not inflated. Sometimes, you can catch me in the process of reaching, but that’s different, and eventually, I come up with what I’m reaching for - that’s why you like me, because I am fucking relentless, in spite of your inherent desires, being an internet commenter and all. I don’t believe I’m Steve Prefontaine — that’s the most important thing here. Everyone knows the run course was short in St. George. But by what? 2 minutes? 3? Still. A 1:28 St. George does not equal 3:35 Whistler. One of my boys who outran me by 6 minutes in St. George outran me by 34 in Whistler. Are those margins equal, or can we agree that my shitting the bed should have been a reference dropped on my marathon run instead of my bike fit? I guess we’ll see, won’t we? Because I’ll be back at it soon enough. Because that’s what I do. It’s you I’m worried about, friend. Or should I call you…person? There’s a great expression in the world that’s been recycled in many forms, probably throughout time. One of the more recent versions you’ve probably heard — you either build or destroy. My question is this…how’s the view from the side you’re sitting? Cause my view is a damn beauty.