Il Progetto Colnago

I'm now the proud owner of an early 80's Columbus tubed Colnago Super frame.  I have big things lined up for this blue beauty: I could do the period correct Campy Record build, but that just seems so overdone.  Don't get me wrong, I have nothing but respect for history, but those bikes, with their perfect re-sprayed paint and gleaming re-chromed bits and pieces just don't appeal to me. This bike is going to be something very special and very different.  It's worn and used, chipped and scarred.  I'm thinking thinking a rat-rod styled club racer.  The plan is to let the bike wear its scars by leaving the paint exactly as is (sealed under a coat of clearcoat, obviously), with a build kit as modern as it gets:


Chris King 1" threadless headset
Ritchey WCS carbon fork 1" with alloy steerer (for stiffness)
Ritchey WCS 4axis carbon wrap stem
Ritchey WCS carbon bars
Ritchey WCS carbon seatpost or Moots Cinch seatpost
SRAM Red (black) gruppo
Ksyrium SL wheels
Fizik Arione seat (white)
Continental GP 4-Season 700x28c tires
Arundel stainless bottle cages


Finish it off with matching white bar tape and cable housing.  That beautiful matching fork will be going on my wall.  Now I just need to crush some miles so my legs can do this bad boy justice on fast club rides (because it won't be nearly as stiff as the Fuji).  Projected completion date is Summer 2013.


Here's some pictures of the frame.  I'm so excited, I can't even describe it.  I'll keep you updated on the build as it comes together.

Strava finally kind of works.

Strava embed is finally working. Here's my ride from last night. Down Ye Olde Erwin to Franklin, up Chapel Hill to UNC, then a loop through campus and back. It's a route that I can ride without thinking too much, so I call it "The Yoosh".

And I'm gonna call out Matthew Boote (KOM up Franklin St.), I'm coming for you.  I will crush you.

 

Strava on Android is still dumb

I forgot my MotoActv at the significant other's house over the weekend.  Since she was out of town for a few days,  I fired up my smartphone for my ride yesterday.  Upon opening the Strava app, I noticed that it sported a fancy new look.  "Oh hooray," I thought, "they must have fixed the random crashing problem".  So after starting a new track, I set off on my normal Durham-Carrboro-Chapel Hill-Durham loop.

I checked the phone several times on the ride, and the phone was humming along swimmingly.  Feeling confident, I rode on.  When I got home, I realized the app had stopped recording five miles from home.  @$%!!$.  So I guess I'll be continuing to use Mytracks or MotoActv for the time being.  Also, for all those MotoActv users who are looking to convert their .csv tracks to Strava readable .tcx format, here's a fun little app I found.

Anyway, here's most of yesterday's ride.  Note that there's a small detour necessary on NC10 due to construction.

Taking my talents to the District and other assorted news.

Thesis: check.  Defense: check.  Doctoral Degree: Approved.  I've survived, and my career as a Ph.D. student has come to an end.  Next time I step into a classroom, it will most likely be to teach.  I'll be taking a job at the Naval Academy starting in July, first as a postdoc, and hopefully in a year or so as an Assistant Professor.  Therefore, I'm officially announcing my free agency to all cycling clubs in the DC area.

I'm looking to get into road racing seriously in the next year, look for me aboard the Fuji Team Pro, most likely decked out in full DA gruppo soon.  To that end, a couple of things are happening:

1.) I've started logging all my rides and runs on Strava.  I'd love to see how I stack up, so come try and take some of my KOMs.  Follow me here.  I'm doing this with my phone as well as with a MotoActv that just came in for review.  Look for the review soon.

2.) The Hammerhead 100x is going up for sale.  It's been a loyal and trusty race bike for two seasons, competing in two full XC and endurance seasons, as well as logging a Burn24 and a 6 Hours of Warrior Creek.  It's also been my full time trail bike.  The handling is telepathic, and the PUSH'd shock is as good as any modern day Fox RP23.  It's not a 29er, but with a skilled rider, it's deadly fast.  If you or anyone is interested, feel free to get a hold of me.  I'd prefer to sell local, but will ship to a serious buyer.

I'm looking to start posting regularly from here on out.  Things are gonna get shaken up, and I can't wait.

Zipp 404 Firecrest Clincher Review

Zipp's new 404 Firecrests mounted up and ready to roll.

Before I get to the review, I want to give a big shout out to Dave and Geoff at Durham Cycles for hooking me up with these wheels to test.  If you're in the Durham, NC area and you're in need of work done on your bike, parts/accessories, looking for a new bike, or just want to hang out and talk bikes, you'd be hard pressed to find a friendlier or more knowledgeable couple of guys.

Folks, first of all I apologize for the lack of updates.  Writing a PhD. dissertation is really starting to get in the way of riding bikes.  Today it hit 60 degrees, and I decided I had to put in a ride.  Thanks to the fine folks at Durham Cycles, I got to demo a pair of Zipp's new 404 Firecrest wheels wrapped in Vittoria Rubino Pros for about 50 miles today. According to Zipp, these are the new hotness in aero wheels, claimed weight of 1557g, the new blunt Firecrest shape, 58mm deep with the familiar dimples, a new heat resistant brake track, and yours for a mere (sit down for this one) $2700.  I won't bore you with the details, and just get right into answering the question: so how do these super-wheels ride?   Hit the break to find out.

Rambling on Bidons, Sinai, and the chase.

I have long had a love-hate relationship with bidons.  Let me explain.  For several weeks now, my buddy Matt has been badgering me to ride the fast shop ride, and I finally had the chance (read: finally ran out of excuses not) to ride.  The route is bascially two loops up the Mt. Sinai Rd. climb.  In theory, it's not that bad of a climb, and I'm not slow, but these guys are rockets.  The cracks had already started forming at the base of of Sinai, but I muscled my way up the climb in the middle of the pack, running on adrenaline and the amazement that I was actually sitting in with these guys up what is the biggest local climb we have.


The inevitable crack happened at about 20 miles in.  I struggled to hold wheels, but slipped steadily back through the group.  Matt tried valiantly to pace me back to the pack, an effort as worthy as any Jens Voigt exploit in recent years, but my legs were long gone.  The closest I got was about 30 meters from the back of the group before I motioned to Matt to go.  I watched him float, seemingly effortlessly, back to the group while I lowered my head and sucked in as much air as I could, arms braced on the hoods, pedaling with that knock-kneed stroke signaling a cyclist whose mind, body, and/or soul have finally surrendered, but knowing that I still had one more assault on Sinai and I had to do it alone.  And it was then, looking down with bleary eyes, pedaling only enough to stay upright, that I saw my bidons.


Normally, I love my bidons.  They are filled with cold liquid that quenches my thirst, balances my electrolytes, refuels my muscles, and  replenishes my spirit.  And I'm vain enough that I'll admit they look so damned good on the bike.  At the top of a hard climb or dropping off after a hard effort, a single swig from the bidon is like drinking a magic elixir that stirs me onward.  But today, as my empty legs did their best to turn the pedals over on the steepest part of Sinai, I hated my bidons.  The mere thought of two liquid filled bottles conjured images of anchors (ancres if you're French) digging into the asphalt behind.  They may only have weighed a few ounces, but it may as well have been tons.  It was then, amidst the normal doubt and fear that clouds the mind of an exhausted cyclist with more climbing ahead of him, that I had the thoughts about my bidons I always have on a hard climb.  If only these bidons didn't match my bike's paint scheme so damned well.  If only they weren't so damned expensive.  Then I could jettison these bricks attached to my bike, and surely my legs will propel me to the summit like an eagle.  A rocket propelled, two wheeled, death-eagle.


But, realistically, I knew that it wouldn't make a difference.  The bidons weren't slowing me down, and this damned hill wasn't going anywhere.  So instead, I climbed, and I cursed.  I cursed the bidons.  I cursed the sun.  I cursed my legs.  I cursed the heat, and the humidity, and the others in the group for daring to be faster than me.  I cursed the grass and the trees and the leaves because they got to sit still on the side of the road while I climbed.  Basically, for the remainder of the climb, I cursed just about everything I could think of.  Loudly.  Creatively.  I invented curses I've never thought of.  I'm a bit of an artist in this sense, and suffering on the bike is my muse.


I passed the church where the road flattens out to a gentle false flat.  I clicked into the big ring, and tapped my right hand, going a few gears higher on the cassette.  The bike responded with a gradual acceleration.  I reached down and grabbed the bidon on my downtube, taking a deep drink of the delicious nectar it contained.  Instantly, as the cool liquid coursed through my body, all the faults the bidon had accrued on the climb were forgiven.  I looked up an could just pick out the lead group in the distance up the road.  Catching them before the end of the ride wasn't likely, but it didn't matter.  The pain of the climb was already a distant memory.  There was still riding left to do.


One more swig from the bidon, two clicks up on the cassette, and a deep breath.  Come out of the saddle, damn it.  Kick, kick, kick.  Keep you head up.  Kick, kick, kick.  Shut up legs.  Kick, kick, kick.  Stay loose.  Chase.

In Memoriam: Wouter Weylandt (1984-2011)

Image courtesy of Cycling Tips

Between the thrill of the Spring Classics to the majesty of the Grand Tours, it's easy to forget the dangers associated with bicycle racing.  Unfortunately, today in the third stage of the Giro d'Italia, we were reminded of those dangers in the most tragic way.

Wouter Weylandt was born in Ghent, Belgium on Spetember 27th, 1984.  He first tasted success in the U23 ranks as a junior member with Quick Step, the highlight of which was a victory at the U23 Tour of Flanders.  As he progressed at Quick Step, he showed great form in the spring classics, and was instrumental in Tom Boonen's pair of victories at Paris-Roubaix.  By all accounts, Wouter was friendly, well liked, and a model domestique: selfless and always willing to sacrifice his own result for the good of his team and team leader.  Individually, Wouter also claimed victory in Ronde van het Groene Hart as well as stages in Ronde van Belgie, Driedaagse van West-Vlaanderen, and the Vuelta Espana, among others.  In 2011 he signed on with the new Leopard Trek team, following his breakout 2010 which saw him win Stage 3 of the Giro d'Italia.  


It's ironic, then, that it was the exact same stage that claimed his life today.  By eyewitness accounts, Wouter was looking over his shoulder while trying to bridge back to the peloton during the descent down Passo Del Bocco, about 25km from the finish when he clipped his left side against a small wall and was launched from his bicycle, falling some 60 feet to the road below.  Despite almost immediate medical attention, he died soon after at the scene.


While it's easy to begin assigning blame, we should remember that Wouter was a sprinter, and as such, one of the best bike handlers in the world.  What happened to him was an accident.  I don't know if it was a moment's inattention by Wouter or a particularly dangerous route by the race organizers.  Perhaps we'll understand better tomorrow or perhaps we'll never know.  Personally, I don't think it really matters.  Determining fault won't bring back one of the most promising young riders of the peloton, nor will it remove the inherent danger of our sport.  


Wouter knew of and accepted the immense risks involved every time he clipped into his pedals, yet, that did not dissuade him from pursuing a sport he loved.  He should serve as an inspiration to all of us.  Cycling is dangerous, but it is also beautiful, and connects to us in a way no other sport can.  Tomorrow, go for a ride in memory of Wouter.  Ride safe, of course, but ride hard.  Find the biggest hill you can and climb it as hard as you can, until your legs and lungs burn and your shoulders shake from the effort.  And when you collapse back down on your saddle, grimacing from exertion and gasping for breath, be thankful that you still have the opportunity to enjoy the simple pleasure of riding a bicycle.  That, I think, is what Wouter would want.


Wouter Weylandt is survived by his girlfriend, who is expecting the couple first child in September.  My thoughts and wishes go out to Wouter's friends and family.