30 Days of Biking, Fulton Fondo and Non-Exceptionalism

I got into a discussion with some friends a while back about Lance Armstrong. This was in 2011, and I was convinced a sports figure of such high regard would not have to face litigation, public humiliation and a stunning reversal of fortune considering much of his allegiances were based on a non-profit organization that successfully marketed something as ubiquitous as a yellow rubberized bracelet into a multi-million dollar campaign for cancer research.

I was still on the fence. My friends were well past the first few stages of anger, denial and resignation, while I was still thinking a great American success story had emerged from cancer recovery and won the most difficult sporting event there is, seven times in a row, all while demonstrating a resiliency and determination that maybe survivors have, or maybe that is just the stereotype I bought into.

Personally it wasn't too heartbreaking for me because I spent a lot of time as a kid watching TV and established a long list of sports heroes that is probably not altogether healthy. Sure, he's a guy in lycra who won some bike races, but did he nail a game winning sky hook in game four of the NBA Finals like Magic Johnson? Did he walk on as a pinch hitter in the World Series with gelatin in his knees and pain killers in his blood stream and smack a game winning home run to win game one like Kurt Gibson? Did he overcome racial disparities like Jackie Robinson or Tiger Woods? I mean frankly, as far as sports go, it's a wash. Compare him to the other winningest cyclists of his era, most of whom were doping too, and he is still a significant indicator of what he stood for, an era of sports replete with Sammy Sosas, Mark McGuires and fewer Carl Lewises.

So there I was, in 2011, watching the Armstrong case unravel, and remembering that I had debated strongly for the guy, and I was dead wrong. It is maybe a lesson on remembering not to judge people solely on the extremes of their personality or career; like admonishing a priest who does not decry evolution, or a yoga instructor who displays vehement anger towards something he or she is strongly opposed to, it is simple to take a malleable interpretation of a person's occupation into an extreme state of idolatry.

I do like riding a bicycle though, and for the most part find myself enjoying being around other cyclists. I met Greg Lemond in 2012 and told him what I thought about him beating Laurent Fignon, and Greg, champion that he is, just smiled and made me feel like I had some relevance back then, watching him race down the Champs Elysees, tucked behind those aero bars and cranking for every second...as exciting a sporting event as any I have witnessed before or since.

So...I enjoyed another round of the Minneapolis #30DaysOfBiking challenge in April, and made 30 consecutive days count for a little over 730 miles and 17,000 feet of climbing. I jumped at the chance to apply for an entrance into the Fulton Gran Fondo, and won a prize drawing for the entry fee. Getting in a few hundred miles of riding really must have helped me prepare for the Fondo, because even though the day was windy, and occasionally I found myself bucking a twenty mile an hour headwind without a domestique, it was a great day and a fun afternoon.

During 30 Days of Biking I got a few flats, mostly from having my tires under inflated, the frequent demarcation of trails, sidewalks and urban city streets broken into the occasional rutted gravel road strewn with haphazardly arrayed potholes; during the Fondo at least one large farm truck hurled profanity as they drove past going 60 miles an hour on a two lane farm road...so nothing is perfect.

Nothing is perfect. It's worth remembering that even the purest element is only 99.994% perfect, so how much you strive for that last second, fraction of a second or specific benchmark that defines excellence, nothing is flawless. Learning how to appreciate your own non-exceptionalism is a skill, all the more challenging when so much of expecting yourself to achieve greatness takes away from what is truly great.

I put together a few decent loaves of bread in the past few weeks. I still haven't gotten back to a reliable sourdough starter, so a lot of cranberry walnut breads made with RedStar yeast.

4-22-2016, Minneapolis turns purple. Photo by Michael McKinney

Honey Cranberry Bread, photo by Michael McKinney

Lake Nokomis, Minneapolis. April 2016. Photo by Michael McKinney

Minnehaha Creek, Minneapolis. April 2016. Photo by Michael McKinney

Felt F75X, at Lake Harriet, Minneapolis. April 2016. Photo by Michael McKinney

At the end of the Fulton Fondo, May 2016. 

Image by Sisu, My 30DaysOfBiking, April 2016. 

Minnesota River Bottoms

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Windy day yesterday for bike riding, the mud along the Minnesota River corridor is still very fresh, deep and akin to quick set cement.  I hit one nasty patch that stopped my wheels and required about fifty feet of pushing the bike, pulling mud out of the brake calipers, pushing the bike, pulling mud out of the brake calipers, and so on and so forth. 

Otherwise, a pretty decent ride.

               

Rainy Saturday

Between waiting for passing traffic, negotiating a left turn against steady traffic, the rain, the cold, the lingering puddles of icy slush, the passive aggressive Minnesota Nice drivers who are trying so hard to try harder than my worst effort at being a considerate cyclist, the Farmer's Market not being open and puzzling a sudoku puzzle for a couple hours, the day was not what I would call overtly enjoyable. Or fun.
Other terminology escapes me.
So, besides a few well worn, time-tested vices that inescapably lead to ruin, what can a person turn to?
I don't know.
If I did, would I share it here?
One thing, besides toast, or a companion animal, or going crazy broadway style, (requires a slushy made of pure syrup) I occasionally resort to Jiffy cornbread.
Master the one egg, 1/3 Cup of milk, and you might add yogurt, or chocolate chips, or bananas. Or all three.
This is not an endorsement, or therapeutic advice, if I could take back the various poorly handled interactions that dictated my bike ride today I would. In lieu of a time machine, I offer Jiffy cornbread. Seriously.
There are still eleven.

*Footnote - due to the low grade quality of this pre-packaged product, I strongly suggest sifting the mix before adding anything to it. Those Tenebrio Obscurus eggs are everywhere.

Afternoon Ride

After some deliberation over where or how far, I got some air into my tires and went out in search of dry pavement.  There was plenty, PLENTY of trail without snow, ice, sand, salt, grit, water and wildlife, but there were also a few patches of ice I walked over.  A number of cyclists were also out on the trails, besides myself, and today Minneapolis and Saint Paul are saturated in sunlight and warmth for the first time in months.  I estimate many bushy tailed squirrels are chasing one another throughout all of the trail systems, urban, rural, suburban...it's just the way spring is.



After completing the ride and saving it with the Strava application, I noticed a few inconsistencies with the data recorded, (a maximum speed of 65 MPH, a KOM score for going 35 MPH), which is ridiculous.  Having the capacity to record the ride in real time leaves me free to admire the things the GPS and mapping software are able to get right - the map, the time and possibly the average speed.  Anyway, first ride of the year on the skinny tires.  Same Specialized 2005 53 CM Allez Sport I've been riding since 2006.

Good times, Noodle salad.

With this last class finishing, I've completed a number of mugs and small bowls, and have eight pieces of greenware waiting for firing and glazing.  I used two blocks of Raku clay, and found that again my centering was dependent on making sure the piece of clay I was working with was properly kneaded before throwing it onto the wheel...the proper term for this is Wedging.  I usually think of Star Wars, "'That's impossible even for a computer!' 'No it's not, I used to bulls-eye womp rats in my T-16 back home and they aren't much bigger than two meters!'", whenever I hear the word Wedge, so I tend to avoid it for that reason.  The glazes turned out a lot darker than previous classes, and after a suggestion, I wound the handles into braids of either two or three, and despite having the wheel fall apart at one point, the class was enjoyable and productive.
Today is Wednesday, I haven't ridden my bicycle since...monday.  After watching another documentary about alley cat racing and bike messenger culture, I think the motivation for year round cycling has to come from productivity, or the requirements of ones lifestyle - despite getting out pretty frequently myself, the people who see me riding my bicycle, in the winter, always ask the same question, "Do you ride year round?"  I don't know how to address their concern any more clearly than being on the bicycle, as they are asking me if I ride my bicycle.  I've many times thought out a rational, proportionate response, devoid of frustration and criticism, but I think from now on, the response I will give will be something more like, "I do what I have to do."
That being said and done and over with, it would have been nice to ride more, given the capacity for studded tires, brighter lights and bigger wheels that are on the markets and readily available to interested cyclists.
I'm adding a few pictures of the pottery, including another piece that was broken during the greenware phase.  Having once broken an anonymous artist's piece of greenware myself, I can't feel any more upset about the accident than blaming myself for not having a job and keeping myself too busy earning a wage to attempt pottery in the first place.

Block of Raku, wet and single-fired pieces.

Wet, green, single-fired and finished pieces.   Photo by Michael McKinney.

Greenware and finished pieces.  Photo by Michael McKinney.

Greenware and unfinished pieces.   Photo by Michael McKinney.

Broken vessel, greenware.  Photo by Michael McKinney.

Bicycle sale paycheck.  Photo by Michael McKinney.

With the weather getting warmer and spring just around the corner, I am starting to think about getting away from the security of riding the single speed mountain bike, (I named it Richard for Richard Farnsworth from the Straight Story, in the winter you could substitute Richard Parker from The Life of Pi), and getting back to a commuter bike or a more versatile machine.  As per having sold my Schwinn, here is a photo of the check I got for selling it - five dollars went for coffee, forty dollars went towards my new bike and forty dollars went towards rent, bills, groceries....all the living that occurs between riding.