Normal vs. Robot Life Pt.1

Pt.1
It’s fair to say that I live two entirely different lives (neither are very exciting).
To clarify, I have never been treated for schizophrenia nor do I have multiple personality disorder. These multiple lives are differenced by physical, rather than mental ways (phew).
The first and most evident life of mine consist of the normal college kid from Boulder; sometimes he thinks he knows everything there is to know and he owns a rather gangly appearance. Little do people know that this normal college kid (albeit thinks he is different) usually goes home after school, makes himself a big sandwich, then steps into his bedroom to evolve into an entirely different being.

(reduced to show texture)

After dressing the gangliness in a ridiculous combination of bright colors, spandex and carbon fiber; that normal college kid enters into a fully evolved state. This new state may be mistaken for a robot that makes repetitive motions with the legs for hours and is entirely unrecognizable from his previous state. Once the repetitive motion of the legs has stopped, it is then safe to exit robot mode and assimilate back into the normality of college life.

(A photo that has nothing to do with this blog post)


This completion of physical evolution (for the day) comes with great responsibility. Is it morally and/or socially acceptable to tell your neighbor in class that you were one of those guys blocking a full lane of Folsom street this morning? In the opinion of myself that answer to the previous question would be a simple “no”. However, there are many people (especially in boulder) that live a similar split life. Little do you know that the cubicle/desk/computer/coffee shop adjacent to you is the home of an individual that experiences full evolutions of their physical self. You have all been warned,
- Buck

Puzzling Evidence

"There is no picture perfect body for cycling, and a rider's potential should never be judged just by looking at him. This is especially true for someone who is new to the sport and has not yet had his body developed by the bike." - Edward "Eddie B.'' Borysewicz

Michael Rasmussen's highly developed body.

I have this problem. I can't climb. At least not on a bike. I have always struggled with it. I became acutely aware of this fact during my first season of competitive cycling. I spent my first Spring doing hill climb time trials every weekend, generally placing it the lower 1/3 of the field. I thought it was my weight, so I dieted. However, that wasn't exactly the problem. You see, I'm just not built for the steep grades. Let me give you some background information.

Before cycling captivated me, I was really into rock climbing. I was into climbing in much the same way that anyone, who has ever seriously pushed their limits, either physically or mentally, is into his or her passion. It was an all consuming pursuit. And as with any activity, that goes from being an interest to a passion bordering on obsession, there is a relative learning curve attached. The learning curve is relative to what's involved with, or demanded of the participant; physicality, intellect, danger, risk, dedication. For example, becoming a checkers master might have a considerably less steep curve than say, becoming an astronaut. Moreover, with activities that involve a greater deal of physicality, like cycling and climbing, there is also a continuum of progression associated with becoming "better". At one end of the continuum lie the elementary steps of ascending the ranks of gumbiedom and learning things the hard way. Further down are the stages of feeling yourself improving, doing things the right way, and in some cases, being competitive. Also relevant to this continuum is one's physique. As one dedicates himself to a certain physical pursuit, he assumes a more specialized build, one more suited to the nature of the activity involved. So, as a result of my years of rock climbing, my highly specialized build was less than ideal for competitive cycling. Note: Spandex is not just for skin suits.

Mario Cipollini lent me these.

So, as I began my bike racing career, I realized that my learning curve was gonna be somewhere around "Lunar Module operator". However, I knew what it meant to be dedicated to something, so I worked as hard as my body allowed and suffered. Also, I forgot to mention that I began riding with the FLC Cycling team. For those of you who don't follow collegiate cycling, that would be like walking onto the University of Nebraska football team, after a season of pee wee.

Needless to say, I was a bit intimidated, and got off to quite the auspicious beginning. I got dropped a lot. It was frustrating, to put it nicely. I quickly noticed that I especially suffered on the climbs. Due to a high ratio of fast twitch muscle fiber, my anaerobic thresh hold was quite low. So, I came to the conclusion that I would have to change my body to more resemble that of the cyclist. However, I didn't look much like my teammates, so I knew that I had a lot of work to do.

I won't go into all the depressing details of how bad that season was. Rather, I will fast

forward to present day. Let me tell you what I've learned. Beyond all the tinkering with diet,

calorie counting, and food weighing, there is one thing I know for sure. You have to work with

what you've got. It's not worth agonizing over. If you're not having fun what's the point? Sure, I

have learned to eat better, and know what works for my body. But all of that didn't have half the

impact of believing in myself. So I may never win the king of the mountains jersey, or even make it

to the top of Lookout Mountain in under 17 minutes. But one thing is for sure, I'm developing a

a pretty decent sprint and I'm having a ton of fun.

As of right now, I'm preparing for a more redeeming season. I have slimmed down my upper

body, but most of the weight has just migrated south. My climbing is getting better, too. Although,

there seems to be more power involved than finesse. I'm getting dropped less, and have even

passed a few people. Eddie B. was right. Just as you can't judge a book by it's cover, you can

never underestimate your fellow rider. Anyone who has ever been ridden into the ground by a

senior rider, twice his age, can attest to that fact. Now, If only I could get my bike to shape

me more like Mr. Rasmussen.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M_-E1TsyMOw&feature=fvw

Against Nostalgia

After spending time with various sets of parents and grandparents, I've noticed a definite trend in common attitudes and modes of thinking among these generations. One of the most troubling is in regards to automobiles.

The generation of the Baby Boomers, led of course by their parents, grew up in the post-World War II cookie-cutter landscape of "Leave it to Beaver" America where it was assumed that boys would grow up, go to college, find a wife, and get a job. Girls would grow up, become the wife, and have a bunch of kids. One of the central components to this manicured-lawn style of perfection and stability was the automobile.

These were the days of the giant, boat-like Cadillac. Gas was somewhere around 25 cents a gallon. For really the first time, cars became a major part of the normal American lifestyle: drive-thrus, Route 66, dad's commute to and from work, road trips, and family vacations to Yellowstone or the Grand Canyon all revolved around the family car. It was assumed that the automobile was the way to get around in life, period.

Now, as I spend time with the parents and grandparents of our generation – the people who created, lived, and grew up in this environment – I often notice a sense of nostalgia for those good old days when cars were beautiful, when boys talked about motors, and when the car was the assumed, necessary, and cool thing to have.

I see this nostalgia become evident in the attitude that it's entirely nonsensical, irrational, or silly to attempt to go through life without an automobile. This nostalgia drives those who think that to attempt to go through life with nothing more than a bike (along with public transportation) is somehow naive, idealistic, and childish. Attempts to pass this nostalgia for "Happy Days" America down to our own generation is seen in attitudes that encourage people to idealize, romanticize, and become dependent on the automobile.

This nostalgia is outdated. It should not be passed on to us. It is for a day that no longer exists; that can no longer exist because it cannot sustain itself. While a car-centered lifestyle may have been sufficient for those earlier generations, it has by now entirely run its course. It is no longer feasible or even remotely necessary to rely on cars in our daily lives.

We have the opportunity to change these attitudes, and to keep the nostalgia for America's automobile-driven history where it belongs: in the irrecoverable past. By continuing to use bikes as a primary mode of daily transportation, and by demonstrating this to be a valid lifestyle, we help accomplish this. Hopefully, by the time our generation has become the wise elders of society we can pass on a healthy, sustainable love for the bicycle and by then, the automobile will seem an object more akin to the dinosaurs than an actual part of life.