Jan drivels, Basso quibbles

The organization representing UCI Pro Tour teams has called for all riders implicated in the Operation Puerto blood doping scandal to submit to DNA tests following former Tour de France champion Jan Ulrich having been conclusively linked to the scandal through such testing.

Ulrich says he's "blameless" in the whole affair and will tell his "version of the facts" in an upcoming memoir, "Bikes, Blow and Babes... the only reasons to ride." In the memoir, Ulrich says that if he really wanted that badly to win the Tour again he would have hired the guy who dresses up like the devil to kneecap Lance with a lead pipe after the 2001 stage to Alp d'Huez.

The other 2006 tour contender implicated in the scandal, Ivan Basso, also claims innocence and says he'll gladly submit to a DNA test. Providing that his DNA sample is submitted in connection to a judicial or national governing body's investigation led by Inspector Clouseau. Basso, however, didn't require the exhumation of slapstick genius Peter Sellers, which leaves the door open for Steve Martin to reprieve the role he fumbled in a 2005 remake.

On Saturday, Levi Leipheimer blew through the finish line at Copperopolis without stopping to sign a single autograph. On his way past the crowd lining the street Levi shouted over his shoulder, "Can't stop now, I've gotta find Steve."

Brave New World

I bumped into a story on velonews.com headlined "ProTour teams and (most) riders commit to DNA tests." The story is here. at the bottom of the column.

The story was both scary and encouraging. If the UCI creates a DNA bank for some of the world's best athletes, that's troubling to me. Over-analyzation is my default position, and while reading the story my mind drifted to the opening scene of Brave New World where the Director of Hatcheries and Conditioning leads students on a tour of the the fertilizing room. Of course right to privacy is the immediate issue for the riders, but whenever I read about DNA being stored for any purpose, I take logical leaps and I bound off in the direction of a Brave New World.

The encouraging part is what DNA testing can do for the sport. I can't imagine how a doctor's program could sneak past such scrutiny. Plus, DNA testing could hamper the peleton from using designer drugs that alter genes. Part of why I love cycling is because I can get on the road and compare myself to the professionals (quite dimly I must admit). But when I hit 40 mph in a sprint or take a pull on the front at 33 mph, I feel like, for that brief moment, I'm doing something the pros do. That feeling is motivating; it keeps me wanting to ride my bike and train harder; it helps me appreciate the beautiful spectacle that is bike racing. If I know the pros are all pharmaceutically enhanced, the feeling is diminished.

I guess since a Brave-New-World society where elitists lead a slack-jawed, happy and complacent middle class isn't inevitable, I'm for the DNA testing.

bike in the garage, front porch getting bigger

Tough day at work. Home in time to do an hour on the bike trail before dinner. Missed lunch, better eat first. Healthy food, hell no - corndog, make that two. Hmm, what to do whilst eating. Check on Vanderpoopie, he's always good. Ha, sucky things he sucks at, dude's funny. Read rest of that story about Tribune Co. selling to Sam Zell or to the team of Ron Burkle and Eli Broad. Either way both suitors propose leveraging the retirement accounts of Tribune employees so the employees, as a non-voting bloc, become the majority shareholder in the company. Huh? If the suitor sinks the ship the employees lose their retirement savings. I don't know. If I was a 30 year employee of the LA Times or Newsday or another Tribune subsid, I'd be wanting a back up plan before the big wigs seal that deal. Well, I digress, back to corndogs, bikes and my frontporch. Corndogs were delicious. Discipline needed to get on bike waning. Loosen the belt, my frontporch needs more room.

Remembrances

He was the one at the bar who said hello to him. He was the one who wore a tattered t-shirt and baggy shorts. He was the one who smelled like cigarette smoke mixed with gasoline. There was a pause from him before recognizing that he was once the boy who knew him best of anyone. Memories rushed in with such clarity, as if they were old movies playing for him on the silent TV up in the corner. So many happy memories of being high and laughing in the sun, of cutting school to play wiffle ball in the park, of swimming at the lake in the summers. Then the memories turned to fire. The kind of fire that burns nostrils then drips down the back of the throat. The kind of fire that burns in tin foil and plumes enticing smoke. The devil lives in fire, he affirmed to him, who the smoke scared. That was the last they saw of each other, until now at the bar. It would have been inappropriate for him to show the love still in his heart. How's your mom doin'? She's ok, and yours? Yeah, same. You take care. Yeah, you too.

So I'm thinking...

I was telling Mrs. Banks about Merco/McLane and how it was such a competitive field with great riders coming from all over which led me to thinking about nationals. Sure would be nice to tell Mrs. Banks that I was in the same field as the national champion.

So how do we get the national champion to our ncnca master races? Well, doing our best to ensure that he comes from the district sure would increase the odds.

But how do we do our best to ensure the nation's best master comes from our district? Well, we send an all-star team to nationals. I know on my team participating in nationals isn't a sponsor requirement and I think it's that way across the board. If a sponsor objects to ncnca masters joining together for nationals, I suggest using a rising tide lifts all boats argument. If we can bring back the stars and stripes jersey, our stock as a district rises and the teams in the district will have more prestige and prestige is always good for sponsors.

Now I'm not saying this is a great idea and we should start right away organizing an all-star masters squad for nationals. However, I do think this idea could possibly work, but it needs thoughtful feedback and further refinement.

The first obstacle to overcome is how to fund this venture. I'd kick in $250 and if I could find 29 other like contributors that's $7500, which should be enough to buy some kits, give the squad gas money and some coin for hotel rooms. If a squad member wants to bring friends or family with him, it's on his dime, but he'd still get an equal portion of the contributed funds. I'd need help finding 29 other contributors.

The next obstacle to overcome would be selecting which category to race: 35-39 or 40-44. I'm leaning towards 35-39 since, I believe, the 40-44 year-olds can race down in age but it's not visa versa. Besides, from what I've seen, the all-star caliber masters in our district who are 40 and over can easily compete with 35-year olds.

Now onto the nuts and bolts... how to select the squad? I propose:

1. Giving one vote to all the ncnca masters who finished in the top 3 of any 2006 masters 1/2/3 event.
2. Voters would submit 10 names to an election official. Then the official would tally the names.
3. The top eight names from the vote would be on the team.
4. I think we should send nine masters to nationals and since the electorate might leave a deserved someone off the squad, the eight elected members would vote on the ninth.
5. If there's a 4 to 4 tie, the top vote getter from the first vote would have two votes toward selecting the ninth member.

So I'd be among the voters who submit 10 names. I'd have to scour last year's results before listing all 10, but with just these names below, I'd really like our district's chances at bringing back a jersey either in the RR or crit.

Michael Hernandez
Dan Martin
Jeff Poulsen
Michael Hutchinson
Dean LaBerge
Kevin Metcalf
Nathan Parks

So there it is. Critique, deride, support, but please remember its just a thought.

13hrs in county wearing bright blue spandex, chapter two

So Gish pulls me up off the ground and begins marching me to the squad car. With his one hand on my handcuffed wrists, he rudders me along from one side of the intersection to the other. I'm not looking up to see what the TV news crew is doing, or what anyone else at the scene is doing for that matter. I just clickity-clack along in my cleated bike shoes, embarassed, towards the black and white.

The first noticeable thing about the back seat of a squad car is how little room there is. It's such tight quarters that if you exhale too much, you'll fog the plexiglass separator. Long after my spandex clad jail adventure, I asked an officer who gets more room back there: a human or police dog? He said the dog.

Another thing about the back seat is it's entirely made of plastic. The floor and backside of the front seat are covered in rubber material. I wasn't expecting leather, but I figured there'd be at least cheap vinyl upholstry. The officer who told me police dogs get more room also explained that canines get cushioning and upholstry since they don't get drunk and puke.

Following the handcuffing, I resigned to not saying another word. So I'd been sitting quietly for a long time before a flatbed tow truck came on the scene. Apparently this frees Gish and his partner for the trip to jail. The partner hops into driver's seat and pops the trunk. I see Gish rolling my $4500 bike toward the car. Crash! Clang! Thump... Thump... Thump.... I turn around and there's Gish dropping the trunk on top of a bicycle part protruding from the compartment. Thump... I turn forward in silent rage. Gish leaves the trunk ajar.

The trip to jail began with a U-turn, exactly the same manuever I pulled that started this mess. My spandex covered rear end doesn't grip at all on the plastic seat and I have to dig my cleated feet into the rubber floor to prevent from crashing into the side door.

On the way downtown, Gish sees two homeless looking guys riding clunker bikes on the sidewalk.

"It's illegal to ride on the sidewalk," he loudly admonishes them over the cruiser's loudspeaker. "Get off now!"

I just shudder.

Tour of CA at Capitol

I haven't had a chance yet to start chapter two of my jail story, but I thought the following piece I wrote for my website on CA government and politics might be interesting to the biking community. Capitol folks were really excited about seeing the tour.

From Capitol Morning Report, Feb. 21 edition --

Thousands of people lined the streets around the Capitol for the finish of yesterday's stage of the Tour of California. JJ Haedo of Team CSC went flying past the VIP tents lining L Street en route to the victory. Levi Leipheimer with Team Discovery finished in the pack and retained his overall tour lead.

Before the medal ceremony Gov. Schwarzenegger addressed the crowd. He thanked the tour sponsors for putting on such a spectacular event showcasing our state's natural beauty. Then he declared that France can't hold a candle to us, which elicited a roar of approval.

We asked some Capitol folks in the crowd for their thoughts about the race and here's what they said.

--Asm. Lori Saldana - If there's such a thing as an adrenaline contact high, this was it. Total rush.

--Lt. Gov. John Garamendi - The crowd and the noise were unbelievable. We saw world-class cyclists racing at 40-plus mph, with teammates on the various squads helping push each other to the front of the pack for a mutual victory. That's not always how it happens in this building, (the Capitol) but it should be. I'm looking forward, hopefully, to seeing next year's event back here in Sacramento.

--Speaker's Deputy Chief of Staff Steve Maviglio (a bike commuter) - I rode my bike in today in solidarity.

--Political Dir. Paul Mitchell, EdVoice - Amazing. It was great to see so many Capitol people get a thrill out of cycling. I can't wait to get out on my bike.

--Lobbyist Justin Fanslau, whose clients include CA Bicycle Coalition - Watching the tour roar by me was a thrill. With so many spectators on hand and the sound that their applause and excitement made makes advocating for safe roads in California a privilege.

--Paul Hegyi, Chief of Staff, Office of Asm. Van Tran - Having the peloton blow by near 40 miles an hour was an exhilarating experience. The riders are so fast it created a cool gust of wind, a nice change from the hot air we're accustomed to at the Capitol.

--Secty. A.G. Kawamura, Dept. of Food & Agriculture - What a great way to celebrate health and fitness for our state. It takes discipline to be an athlete and discipline to work on being healthy. Eat more fruits and vegetables!

--Lobbyist Brendan Twohig, Twohig Consulting - These guys were going so fast I felt like I drank a glass of dirt from what came off the road. I loved it! Sacramento and Amgen did a great job.

--Senate Republican consultant Cory Salzillo -- Seeing the top pros in the sport of cycling charging down the streets of Sacramento was quite a thrill. It was great to see all of the sponsors, elected and local officials, and racing fans come out to support what is becoming one of California's premier sporting events.

13 hrs in county wearing bright blue spandex, chapter 1

"Hey you!," a gruff voice shouted from behind. "Come here."

I thought there's no way that command was intended for me, but I turned around to look anyway. Glaring at me was a police officer. He was stumpy and rumpled and obviously very perturbed. I wheeled my bike around and rode over to him.

"You bicyclists think you own the road," began a two minute diatribe delivered by one Officer Gish. I don't remember the specifics of the banality that followed.

I'd done a U-turn on a minor city street. The road stripe was dashed not solid. Recalling my driver's ed class from 15 years prior, I was pretty sure I'd broken no laws. I figured destiny dealt me an unfortunate encounter with an officer who wanted to vent, but couldn't cite me for anything. So I did my best to ignore the smelly vitriol blowing into my face.

For most of the rant, I looked over his head at a car flipped on its hood blocking the intersection. I'd done the U-turn to avoid being detoured onto a one-way street going the opposite direction I wanted to go. Dumbfounded barely describes my state of mind as I pondered how much this guy must despise cyclists for him to quit attending to a spectacular crash in order to berate me.

Two minutes is a long time for a berating. About half-way I grew to be as perturbed as Gish. I was on my way home from a 60 mile group ride where we race on a levee road out to the county line and back. I was tired and hungry and holding back a growing urge to tell this chump where to put his badge.

Two minutes was also enough time for the TV news van to arrive on the scene. Oh great, I thought. The reporter will see the flipped over car and a policeman dressing down a guy on a bike and think I had something to do with the crash.

Finally, Gish asks me a direct question. "What's your name?" he growled.

I looked at him expressing as much disdain as I could muster and lied. "Todd Martin," I said. Oh if I could have a do-over on that one.

In fact I tried. Gish shocked me and began writing a ticket.

"Um," I said to him in a conciliatory tone, "could we start over. Todd Martin's not my real name."

"Well who do you want to be this time?" Gish asked haughtily.

"I'll be who I really am, John Fairbanks," I replied.

"Do you have ID?"

"No. I'm on my way home from a long bike ride and I don't carry my driver's license with me when I'm riding."

"Hmmmm." Gish leans his head closer to the radio attached to his shoulder and calls headquarters to verify my name and address. Another ten minutes pass while he goes back and forth with the crackling voice from HQ.

Meanwhile, the TV crew is taking shots of the car. I look the other way to avoid having my face wind up on the five o'clock news. Lucky for me another officer appears from the opposite side of the intersection. He starts talking to the news crew so they don't come over to Gish and me.

Dispatch confirmed my identity and Gish goes about zealously writing a ticket. For what, I have no clue, but I sign my name anyway just so I can be on my way. It's obvious Gish wants to teach me a lesson by inconveniencing me as much as possible.

Before he tears off the ticket and gives it to me, he starts fumbling through his breast pocket. He stands in silence while his chubby fingers dig. Out comes a folded piece of paper which Gish slowly unfolds and holds up to the sun for examination. "What the hell is this guy doing?" I'm thinking. The piece of paper wasn't his intended target. He meticulously refolds it. This takes longer than the unfolding. Back in the pocket the paper goes. More chubby fingered fumbling and he's still not saying a word. Finally he finds the object of his inefficient search. It's a small ink pad.

"Gimme your thumb," Gish says to me in the same gruff tone he used to first get my attention.

"Why? " I reply. "I signed the ticket. You know who I am."

"Do you have your ID?"

"I told you, I don't carry it with me when I'm riding."

"Gimme your thumb!" Gish barks once again.

"Wh..." I was going to ask why again, but before I could finish saying the word Gish knocks me off my bike onto the ground. He rolls me over, pulls my arms behind my back and handcuffs me.

I'm off for a 13 hour adventure in county lock-up wearing bright blue spandex.

How I got here

Last week I was bumping around ncncaracing.com and ran into a race report on the Cal Aggie crit written by Michael Hernandez. His name at the end of the report was a link to his blog, Hernando go lightly. The blog is awesome and I commented on a couple of his posts. Then I realized that I was one of the few blogless folks leaving comments. I don't know if this is an etiquette thing or not, but suddenly I felt like I shouldn't be commenting on the writings of others without writing something myself. So here I am.