I actually rode with other people today, tagging along with some of the racer boys on an easy ride. The climb at the start of Middle Road is quite nice, and I’ve realized that I need to teach myself that it’s entirely possible (and okay) to downshift and climb slowly. There’s no need to attack every hill, as fun as that is.

Oh, and a Confidis rider, Cristian Moreni, failed a doping control for unusually high levels of testosterone. Ironically, Moreni was part of a riders’ demostration before the start of today’s stage protesting the rampant use of drugs in the peleton. Oops.

Tarik Saleh has a fine post up regarding the Vino doping scandal, by the way.

That pounding your hear? That’s the sound of the last nail being driven into the coffin of professional bicycle racing.

Update

Cycle-Licious has posted a handful of other reactions.

In a moment of sheer stupidity, I penciled in Stuart O’Grady as the winner of the green jersey for best sprinter. I’d like to think I simple got a few Aussies confused (they do all look alike, right?) and should have picked Robbie McEwen. Of course, McEwen crashed out in week one, and O’Grady wrapped himself around a utility pole and Tom Boonen, who I really wanted to pick, is in the lead (though he missed a golden opportunity to put the contest away yesterday when he nearly went down in the final sprint). I picked Christophe Moreau for the polka dot jersey of the best climber, but the Dauphine Libere winner was dropped on the transitional stage yesterday and is now nothing more than an also-ran. He could certainly try to take some points in the Pyrennes, but given that he was dropped again today, I don’t hold much hope.

Back to the general classification.

The Danish chicken, Michael Rasmussen is currently in the yellow (and polka dot) jersey with what seems to be a healthy two and half minute lead over Alejandro Valverde. This, however, should be taken with a grain of salt, given that there are two time trials between now and Paris, and it’s quite possible that Rasmussen is the worst time trial rider in the Tour. He lost over twelve minutes in the chrono races in last year’s edition, so things don’t look good. I do, expect, however, that he will keep the polka dot jersey, though Yaroslov Popovych could challenge. Valverde, if he can get some support in the mountains, could end up in yellow, and a podium place is his for the taking. Cadel Evans and Carlos Sastre could also become threats, though team support could be sparse. Leipheimer is a wild card–he has the team, especially in Contador and Popovych, to break open the race in the Pyrennes (Popo, remember, was a key mountain goat for Lance Armstrong), and he can be a strong chrono rider as well. But as I said, he may also blow up spectacularly at some point.

So, then, how about my mid-race picks? Well, let’s play the role of the optimist.

General Classification
1. Levi Leipheimer
2. Cadel Evans
3. Alejandro Valverde

Green Jersey
Tom Boonen

Polka Dot
Michael Rasmussen

White
Alberto Contador

Two other bits of cycling news have yet again cast a shadow on the sport. First, Floyd Landis’ “B” sample was found to contain synthetic testosterone, thus validating the original tests that cast doubt on his Tour de France win. Landis’ camp has repeatedly denied the charges and claimed that the French lab has been biased. It’s unlikely we will ever know the truth, unfortunately. It does, however, seem that Landis will be banned for two years, and his Tour victory will be stripped. Additionally, Ivan Basso will be investigated again for apparent links with the Operation Puerto sting, and Discovery Channel has asked that Basso not race until the investigation is finished. He will miss the remainder of the spring season, and there is some doubt that he could participate in the Giro. Good thing Disco picked up Levi Leipheimer–without Basso, he is certainly a threat to win the Tour, if he continues his form from the spring.

Riding a bicycle, like playing a musical instrument or sailing a boat or driving a racing car, allows those who are otherwise unsure and awkward to exhibit moments of fluidity and grace in a way not readily possible with dance shoes, a basketball, or a pair of boxing gloves. From square one, the tool is a very effective catalyst for cinematic beauty, both in between the ears and outwardly as one pans across the landscape rolling quietly. An entity like one’s bicycle can’t help but inspire self-expression through its use, and the increasing ease, speed, and volume of communication today results in no shortage of two-wheeled material to peruse.

Anyway…

Dorseyville Road and Saxonburg Blvd. offer some of the finest riding just outside the city limits. Gently rolling terrain, nice scenery, moderate traffic. The final descent on Dorseyville to Saxonburg is also quite an eye-opener–relatively steep, with a few tight turns and dodgy tarmac. Good stuff. I was happy to be on the fat tires of the Cannondale. I looped back down Saxonburg to Harts Run, and climbed that back to Dorseyville (I pity the poor middle aged guy on the carbon bike who had a guy on a mountain bike with three speed bars, a saddlebag, and cutoff shorts breathing down his back). I’m still generally pleased with the Cannondale, though I think I’d still prefer Albatross bars over the North Roads, if only to be able to use bar-end shifters, rather than the thumbies I’m using now. I did a fair amount of out-of-the-saddle climbing, and while the bike is a bit on the sluggish side, it’s still not all that bad.

Hopefully this coming weekend I can do a full recce of the populaire course. I’m also considering perhaps riding the course backwards from Sewickley this Friday, but we’ll see how that shakes out.

Running down Baker Street faster than usual (thanks to the front brake), I found myself turning right on the 62nd Street Bridge. The expansion joints on the bridge deck are scary — gaping jaws ready to catch a skinny road tyre. Exiting into Sharpsburgh, I bounced over the rough concrete and slowly picked my way over the railroad tracks into Etna proper. For now, I wished I had cushy cyclocross tyres, rolling resistence or not. Moving along Butler Street, I notice a small cafe/deli and think maybe I’d stop some morning.

As quickly as I’m on Grant Street, I’m off again, up Dewey, heading for the “back way” to avoid the initial hill up Mt. Royal out of Etna. Once out of the neighborhood, I’m on Pine Creek Road, meandering below the traffic of Mt. Royal. Pine Creek is only a gentle climb most of the way, passing small pockets of houses, folks that are brave enough to live across from a creek that floods at a moment’s notice. It is a nice section of road, with little traffic and a wide shoulder. I note, however, the lack of any sort of street lamps, and realize I’ll have to upgrade my (non-existent) lighting system for the winter.

At the end of Pine Creek Road, the road bends sharply to the right, and I’m faced with the single hardest climb of the commute — a short, steep rise that curves quickly to the right. Immediately, I lose momentum, and I’m one the drops of my bars, the bike rocking side-to-side. I hear the chain grown a bit each revolution, and I hear the tyres buzz as the bike leans with my pedal stroke. At the crest of hill, I turn left on Vollmer, into another residential area. The grade eases somewhat, and the crossing guard at the corner smiles and says “Hello, there.” I wheeze a “hello,” and this disrupts my breathing terribly, and I’m now panting, hoping this will end soon. I feel like I’m barely moving — in fact, I’m sure someone walking could overtake me with ease. Soon enough, I’m at the top of the hill, hands now resting on the bar top, tongue wagging. The respite will be shorted lived, however, with another short rise ahead that will bring to Mt. Royal.

Most of the ride into work on Mt. Royal is just slightly rolling. In the first two miles, I don’t even have to get out of the saddle. This, however, ends abruptly just past Ferguson Road. The hill is deceptively steep, though relatively short. Any momentum carried from the previous downhill is lost rather quickly, and again, the bike rocking side-to-side, the chain squeaking just a little from effort. Once to the top however, it’s a looooong downhill to the office parking lot. Which of course means…

It’s abrupt start to the ride home — poking my nose out of the parking lot, looking for traffic, and then immediately it’s into the drops for more bike rocking and tongue wagging. The intitial hill is long, but not sustained. The angle decreases eases a bit in the middle, allowing a bit of rest before the final surge around the first corner. Once at the top it’s a short, steep drop past Ferguson, and then the deceptively easy climb through the S-curve. I thought upon first inspection that this climb would be the killer, but it’s not, really. Yes, I’m out of the saddle a lot, but the first curve flattens a bit. After the second curve, it’s a short sprint to the crest, then nothing but rolling bumps until Saint Bonaventure school, where I leave Mt Royal for the quiet of the residential streets.

Going down Vollmer, I’m amazed at how long the hill is. I let my legs spins freely, using the handbrake once or twice to check my cadence without skipping the rear wheel. Quickly I’m at the top of hill above Pine Creek road, shocked and appalled I rode this brakeless on my first sortie with Aaron. Hard braking and a skip or two checks my speed enough, and I gently rolling, rolling down Pine Creek Road, enjoying the creek and the pines.

The last bit of Pine Creek Road is rippled like a washboard, and I bounce over them, not at all gracefully. It’s good preparation for the remainder of the ride, however, through the potholed, cracked streets of Etna. I’m still learning the ebb and flow of traffic, so I’m cautious as I pick my way across cars to turn left on Bridge Street. Once again, I wobble over the railroad tracks and harsh cement slabs just before the bridge, and I find the ride still has a sting in the tail — the final rise to the deck of the 62nd Street bridge. It’s not long or steep, but in the corridor of concrete, rattling over expansion joints, drainage grates, and potholes, I’m not happy about it. I’ve also realized it’s best to simply hug the yellow line up the ramp, rather than find myself in the middle of two lanes of traffic once on the bridge deck. Hugging the jersey barrier, I pick my way, quickly, through the potholes and cracks, bounce through the intersection with Butler Street, and take comfort in the final, familiar rise to home.

If you care.

It is also hard to ride a bike to work if it takes away family time in the morning or evening or both. What?s more important to you?your personal fitness and a contribution to a cleaner world, or eating breakfast and dinner with your family? Sometimes, there are tradeoffs, and if you choose your bike over your family, why?

I like his response, and I’ll take a bit further. First, I’ll ask that if your commute is so long that it takes time away from your family, why don’t you a) move closer to your employer or b) work closer to your home? I know, of course, that there are certain circumstances that require a long commute, but more often than not it is simply a choice most people don’t want to make. Also, I wonder if these trade-off Peterson describes can’t also become important lessons for your children. Even at two years old, Sebastien knows that daddy going to work equals a bicycle ride. The boy is already thinking outside of the box.

That said, Peterson’s essay is a great read. There is certainly a hump to get over, but you do, it does really become easier to get on the bike, day after day, in any weather. But I’ve prattled on about that before…