The latest issue of Radix has two articles that caught my eye enough that I’ve read them several times. The first, “Why Love Will Always Be A Poor Investment” by Kurt Armstrong, is an examination of the marriage covenant, and how it stands in opposition to the individualistic, choice-driven relationships of our time.

This ring on my finger is a symbol of my decison to live against the ways of the consumer world’s telling me that fidelity is no longer fashionable. Marriage is one part of my stubborn, angry, defiant “no” to those who offer the hollow promises of so-called freedom. My lifelong commitment to bind myself to my wife is a stand against the consumer culture and its dehumanizing ways.

No. I am married. For good.

Donald Heniz, in “The Material Culture of Christmas,” sees that the material trappings of the Christmas holy day (nativity scenes and bells, for example) as a critical part of a day that celebrates God in the material.

Of all the Christian holy days, Christmas most conspicuously celebrates and clothes itself in the material world. Christmas is a festival of material culture. Divinity bodies forth in the world. As certain medieval mystics said, God is in all things, and all things are in God. If you want to celebrate life on Earth religiously, Christmas is the ideal occasion.

As part of an austere reformed tradition, our church does not conspiciously celebrate Christmas–each day should be a celebration of the incarnation of Christ. Many families within the denomination will not even allow the trappings of the holiday into their home. While these families are not wrong, would we do better proclaiming “Joy to the World, the Lord is come!” every Christmas day? Yes, the holiday has become mired in consumerism and materialism, but is that a reason to deny the celebration?

Such a mindset, however, overlooks material culture as a way into the understanding of faith. Across the Christian traditions, many of us are determined to see, hear, and touch God, to set the faith into the landscape of our senses.

Posted on 30 January 2006

I enjoy sports. Any kind really. Football, basketball, hockey, soccer, tennis, rallying, cycling, even baseball on occasion. Some find this odd, as if I am either too geeky or too intellectual to be a sports fan. My love, however, has a serious obstacle–we don’t own a functional television. Sunday afternoons in the fall or winter are often spent in our dining room, listening to the Steelers game on the radio and “watching” several other games via the scoreboards on Sports Illustrated.com. This, of course, has its limitations, and sometimes I steal a game at my dad’s, or the in-laws. This, by the way, is a mark that I am not obessed with sports–I will not (ok, I generally will not) make special plans to watch a game on television. If I miss a Steelers, that’s OK.

I can also watch most sporting events with a bit of detachment. I don’t need to get caught up in the result, I can just enjoy the game (this is why, for example, last year’s NBA finals were so great–Detroit v. San Antonio–two team-first squads that would be equally deserving champs). There are, however, two teams I absolutely cannot watch with that sort of detachment: the Pittsburgh Steelers, and the University of Pittsburgh Panthers basketball team.

We have, as a city, been spoiled by the Panthers in recent years. While they haven’t achieved a national title, they do a have Big East title, and a long run of NCAA tournament births. While much wasn’t expected this year, with the graduation of several key seniors, the Panthers have charged to an undefeated record, included this weekend’s big win over Louisville (remember, of course, that the Panthers stock up on Cupcake U’s in the early season), and ninth place in the latest national rankings. I’ve not seen a game yet, but I’m sure I’ll catch a few as the Big East action heats up (sorry, sports cliché), and those games will no doubt cause a gray hair or two, as the Panthers aren’t the dominating sort. Games go down to the wire, which means I’m a nervous wreck.

My reaction to the Panthers pales in comparison to how I deal with Steelers’ game. It’s probably best I don’t see many on television, lest I die 15 years too early. Of course, I did see yesterday victory over the Colts, and the fourth quarter alone gave me a dozen gray hairs, an ulcer, a life five years shorter.

It started well, the Steelers jumping to a 14-0 lead. This was wholly unexpected–in fact, I had resigned myself to the thought of the Steelers losing by 10 or so. This also meant I actually had to care about the game. I was invested at this point, sweaty palms and racing heart included. I broke for lunch with the in-laws, and when I returned, I watch Jerome Bettis punch into the end zone to make it 21-3. Oh dear. Coach Cowher is roughly 100-1 when the Steelers hold an 11 point lead. Now look at them. Was a win the bag?

Never say never. First, there was the Troy Polumalu interception that was overturned. An absolute killer. The Colts scored two quick touchdowns, and suddenly it was 21-18. My life was flashing before my eyes. Then after another Steelers’ punt, the Colts had the ball back. Oh dear. Finally the defense stepped up, and smothered Peyton Manning close to his own end zone. Finally! Not realizing the Colts would lose possession on downs, I looked at father-in-law and said “hopefully Randle-El won’t muff the punt.” I was suddenly relieved to see the offense trot on the field. One minute and twenty seconds on the clock? Take a knee. Stretch things out. No need to go for the jugular.

First down, Jerome Bettis gets the hand off and barrels toward the end-zone. Suddenly, a helmet hits the ball and *pop* there it goes. Oh my. And the Colts pick it up and run (my heart, by the way, is racing again just typing this). Oh no. They are going to return this for a touchdown. Game over. Then from out of no where, Ben Roethlisberger manages to trip up the Colt carry the ball. This is both good and bad. Good: the Steelers still can win. Bad: the Steelers still have to win. At least if the Colts would have returned the fumble for a touchdown, the game would have ended and my life could return to normal (I am not the typical Steelers fanatic, who, upon a loss, mopes for several weeks. It is just a game.). Now the defense has to stop Peyton Manning again. They do, but not until the Colts have a chance for a field goal to tie.

The pressure, at least in my world, is unbearable at this point. The snap, the kick, and it’s obvious it is wide right. It’s over. The Steelers win (the first time a sixth seed in the playoffs has beaten a first seed). I breath a sigh of relief, collect myself, and rejoin the land of living.

The situation will likely repeat itself next weekend, with the Steelers playing in Denver for a trip to the Super Bowl. I can’t wait.

Posted on 16 January 2006

Creak, creak, creak goes the swing. We are stealing away an hour at the playground before twilight, enjoying the rare 60 degree January day. Sebastien and I have the mile or so to the quiet playground, the one tucked in the valley between Morningside and Highland Park. And it is quiet, even on such a day–a small family is on the jungle gym, and another pre-schooler swings next to us, capturing Seb’s attention, as the two share toothy grins back and forth. We are facing toward the street, and cars go by with windows down, people surveying the playground, smiles on their faces. Bicycles zip up and down the hills–it is days like this one that increase, at least temporarily, the number of bike commuters. I am a little jealous, having spent the day working from home, helping out with brood. A small part of me would have enjoyed even a brief spin in this warmth. It’s not be, as the sun has already slipped past the horizon, and that’s alright. The walk home is slow. We meet Jen and Oren halfway, and Sebastien climbs out of the stroller. He wants to push. He runs beside it, and I periodically grab the handle to straighten his course, which prompts a shout of “No! Daddy!” But that passes quickly, and his head is down again, pushing even harder.

We linger for a bit on the front porch. I miss warm weather. I don’t mind the cold, but winter transforms our block into a bit of ghost town. We catch only passing glimpses of our neighbors, only able to share a quick hello and goodbye. The days of conversations across porches and sidewalks are gone, at least for a few months.

Posted on 16 January 2006

The 2006 campaign kicks off in roughly a week with the Rallye Monte Carlo. This season could be the most wide open in years due to the number of team and rule changes. The biggest news is that only two manufacturer teams will compete, Subaru and Ford. Citroen and Peugeot had previously announced their intentions to take a year’s sabbatical from the championship, but in the off-season, Skoda and Mitsubishi also announced they would not field teams in 2006. The news was the greatest shock to the Mitsubishi drivers, as they had received no word of the news, and therefore could not shop their services. In reaction to this news, the FIA announced changes to the rules for the manufacturer’s championship, thus allowing privateer teams to score points in the championship. The drivers market was a mad scramble, with no factory seats open in the offseason (both Ford and Subaru had set their rosters prior to close of the 2005 season), and several top drivers will not have a consistent seat throughout the season.

The factory teams will look like this:

Subaru
Petter Solberg
Chris Atkinson
Stephane Sarrazin

Ford
Marcus Gronholm
Mikko Hirvonen

Two privateer squads have announced their rosters for the season:

Kronos Total Citroen
Sebastien Loeb
Xavier Pons
Dani Sordo

Red Bull Skoda
Gilles Panizzi
Andreas Aigner
Mattias Ekstrom

The Kronos squad will have many of the factory Citroen team’s support crew, so don’t discount Loeb’s chances to repeat as champion because he is not on a factory team.

The Mitsubishi squad, Harri Rovanpera and Gigi Galli, will be driving privateer Lancers for Monte Carlo and Sweden, and it is likely both will compete most every round of the championship. Former Citroen driver Francois Duval will drive a First Motorsport Skoda Fabia in Monte Carlo, but neither the team nor Duval have announced plans for the remainder of the season.

Former Peugeot ace Markko Martin was left without a drive for 2006 and will instead run a team in his native Estonian national series. Martin’s situation was partly his own choosing, after the death of co-driver Michael Park in Great Britain last season.

While Loeb will compete for the driver’s crown, it’s unlikely the rest of the Kronos team can put the team in contention for the make’s crown. The manufacturer’s championship will come down to the two factory teams, and Ford, with its more experienced drivers, should be the favorite to win. If Atkinson can have a consistent year, Subaru can challenge, but his inexperience will likely hold him back.

Another rule change for the upcoming season is that all cars are required to use passive differentials rather than active. The FIA instituted this to lower the overall cost of running a car in the championship. This means that every team will be running a 2006 spec car at the Monte, since all 2005 factory cars would be excluded due to their active differentials.

So, now, crystal ball time. The driver’s championship will come down to Loeb and Solberg. Yes, Gronholm is still quick, but he’s been behind the wheel of a Peugeot for seven years, so the switch to Ford will hinder his championship chances this season. That said, I think Ford has the best chance to win the make’s championship, as Gronholm and Hirvonen should be in the points nearly every rally. Solberg’s chances hinge on the Impreza–it has been fast enough to beat Loeb in the past, but will the 2006 spec car be able to outpace the Xsara? Loeb will not likely dominate as he did last season, but he should be consistent enough to take the crown for the third year running.

Top 3 Drivers
1. Sebastien Loeb
2. Petter Solberg
3. Marcus Gronholm

Top 3 Teams
1. Ford
2. Subaru
3. Kronos Total Citroen

Posted on 11 January 2006

Quickly.

I’ve converted the old “climbing” page to be an actual MT blog now, so we can painlessly update content.

See it here.

Posted on 8 January 2006

It is children who lead us to the gospel… We are not worthy to educate them. Our lips are unclean; our dedication is not wholehearted. Our truthfulness is partial; our love divided. Our kindness is not without motives. We ourselves are not yet free of lovelessness, possessiveness, and selfishness… Only wise men and saints, only those who stand as children before God, are really fit to live and work with children.

Eberhard Arnold, taken from the front page of the New Pantagruel.

Posted on 5 January 2006

Few things rankle me more than a bobo driving an older BMW, festooned with “Defeat Bush” and “No Blood for Oil” bumperstickers, with the audacity to beep his horn at me for riding my bike to the office, thus causing him to actually turn his attention to the road rather than the conversation he is holding on his cell phone.

Posted on 28 December 2005

Yes, I am busy. Yes, we are getting some sleep. Yes, Sebastien likes his little brother. Yes, we are surviving. We’re probably doing a bit better than surviving, actually.

I haven’t found much free time in front of the computer lately to write (though I have been scribbling a bit over here). I’ve been reading more lately. I just finished up Technique and the Opening Chapters of Genesis by Jacques Ellul, which we will be discussing this month in our church’s, ahem, philosophy club. I’ll likely write on it more next week. I also received two books for Christmas, The Praise of Folly by Erasmus and The Cross-Shattered Christ by Stanley Hauerwas. We received a Barnes and Noble giftcard as well, so I expect to pick up a copy of Gargantua and Pantagruel by Rabelais as well.

I have re-embraced my vocation as programmer/hacker lately, in part because my new job is actually challenging. I’ve also offered my services to the New Pantagruel as a web lackey, and I’ve been trying to develop a system to allow articles and essays to be published as PDFs. It’s been quite a challenge, since there are few open source options for HTML to PDF conversion, though I may have found a winner with the combination of html2ps and ghostscript. The new issue is due out shortly.

My first wheelbuilding effort is also complete. I rode the new wheel to work yesterday, and much to my surprise, none of the spokes snapped. The wheel is even relatively true and round. Though it took me two weeks or so to complete, the process wasn’t terribly difficult, and I doubt I’ll ever purchase a built wheel again. I can now cross “wheelbuilding” off my list of things to learn. Now to only get Jen to allow me to take about the transmission on the new car….

Posted on 28 December 2005

There’s something about these December alleycats that I just really enjoy. Perhaps its riding in the city, at night, under the stars. Perhaps the cold, crisp air. I wasn’t sure if I would even line up to start this one — what, with a baby coming any moment, and six inches of snow falling just a few days ago. I found the time to go to Kraynick’s and buy a new chain for my winter bike* — it was shocking to discover that’s all it required after a winter of abuse — so I was prepared for the potentially snowy streets. And the baby was no where to be found, so there I was at Duke’s at 6:00pm, looking over the manifest and plotting my course.

The race was simple — 6 checkpoints, roughly forming a triangle drawn by the rivers, with no order and no jobs to perform. The start was chaotic. Apparently, once you had your manifest you could start, so I found myself trying to unlock my bike (why did I lock it to the top of the chain link fence?), pull on my gloves, and look at the manifest at once. A group had already slipped away, and I was trying hard to catch them, but after catching a red light at Center and Neville, I was already behind. So well, I thought, it is a nice night for a ride. A quick stop at the Kiva Han on Craig Street, and I was on my way to the Pather Hollow Lake.

Some folks had opted to approach the lake via Neville Street and into the hollow, and, in retrospect, this would have been the better plan. Once in the park, I was forced to dismount, run down several sets of snowy stairs, and then negotiate a quarter mile of snowy runny trails. Once I picked up my token at the stop, I continued another hundred yards or so with the bike on my shoulder. The bike path was (surprisingly clean of snow, which boded well for the trip into town on the Jail Trail. The sidewalk leading to the trail, however, was the most treacherous part of the ride, the surface being alternately snow, slush and ice. It was slow going, but soon enough I slipped through the gate, just ahead of two other folks, and we were cruising between the massive concrete lanes of the Parkway East.

I slowly picked up my cadence the first quarter of the trail, alternately pulls with the two other riders. I was worried that I’d be dropped promptly, as one person was on a geared bike, and the other on a fixed gear with undoubtably a higher gear ration than I was running (a mere 39×16). I hit my stride as we approached the slight crest below the Birmingham Bridge, and as the jail became visible, I noticed their shadows, cast by the dull orange glow of the streetlights, falling away behind me.

It is moments like these that make cycling so enjoyable. Spinning smoothly, under the stars on a crisp winter night, chasing my shadow. Absolutely no wasted movement. The wooosh of air past my ears. The din of automobile traffic on either side. The quiet whir of my tyres on the tarmac. Perfection.

The end of trail was oddly snowy and icy (odd because the majority of trail was completely dry. The checkpoint workers ahead shouted to slow down, as the final stretch was under a sheet of black ice. I had caught another trio at the end of the trail, and the four of us climbed out of the trail and into the streets of downtown. We slipped through Point State Park, climbed the ramp to the bridge deck, and were spinning across the river. Once we had a tokens from the checkpoint at the end of the bridge, we looped around and around, down the spiralling ramp back to the street. Since I actually knew where the next checkpoint (the zig-zag pedestrian bridge on River Avenue) was, the trio asked me take the lead through the streets of the North Side.

Once on River Avenue, I was spinning again. The street was quiet and dark, my concentration only interrupted by the railroad crossings (crossings which would, I heard after the race, bring down two riders. Neither was badly injured.). i counted down the blocks with the bridge crossings — 16th Street, the Veteran’s Bridge, 40th Street. I peered over my shoulder and noticed the trio had slipped behind. I focused again and saw the 31st Bridge ahead, the signal I was approaching the checkpoint.

“Hey wait!”

Lost in the moment, I nearly passed the checkpoint. I circled back, picked up my token and waited a moment for the trio of riders to catch me. As we pulled away, options to the next stop, a warehouse on Gold Way on Polish Hill, were discussed. The group wanted to go up Liberty, cut across the Bloomfield Bridge, and then go back down the checkpoint. I didn’t say anything, but I thought it would be better, albeit harder, to climb Herron Avenue directly to Polish Hill. We climbed the ramp to the 31st Street Bridge, and I stood up on the pedals and began to pull away from the group again.

Once in the Strip District, I waffled. Herron Avenue would be a hard, slow climb. Melwood Avenue, leading to Gold Way, would likely be messy and snow covered. I nearly passed the briddge at the start of Herron until I saw two sets of blinking red lights crossing the span. That was enough motivation to quickly make the right turn. My legs felt a bit heavy at this point, as I had pushed hard across the 31st Street Bridge. As I hit the first switchback on Herron, however, I began to reel in one of the bikes, and that was enough motivation. Another switchback. Then a quick left turn on Melwood, which was, as expected, covered with a thin veneer of snow and slush. Three of us were spread across a block or so. We rode under the Bloomfield Bridge, and hit the last crest before the stop. I quickly stood up again, and caught the rider in front me as she downshifted to deal with the incline and decreasing levels of grip. As we pulled into the stop, two others were just pulling away. Quickly, the four of us continued the final few blocks to the finish line, a house in Bloomfield.

Several other folks had finished ahead of the group I was in. It turns out, however, that all but one had missed one of the checkpoints (apparently, folks didn’t look the manifest closely enough to determine the location of the zig-zag bridge stop). That left me in second place. I was surprised at my pace, given the gearing on my bike, and relatively poor start. I was pretty happy though, given I didn’t make my usual navigational blunders.

Posted on 11 December 2005

A few months ago, I decided to (finally) replace the front wheel on the Steamroller. The existing wheel was probably ten years old, first purchased used from the old Pennsylvania Mountain Exchange when Jen got her commuter, and finally, after much abuse both on road and off, I broke a spoke on the morning commute, and provided enough impetus to actually purchase a new wheel. I thought this would be a fine opportunity to improve my bike expertise, so I committed to building the wheel myself. Two friends have recently built their own wheelsets, and they assured me the process was easier than any mechanic would have you believe. Armed with that enthusiasm, I began to research product.

This should have been an easy decision. The rear wheel, purchased used a year ago, is a Miche pista hub, laced to a Mavic MA-3 rim with DT spokes. I should have immediately purchased the same components and been on my way. Instead, spendthrift that I am, I researched less expensive (read cheaper) hubs. A week or so later, it was apparent that the Miche hub would be the best choice. The next decision? Where to buy. It’s generally difficult to find a “deal” on pista equipment, unless someone is having some sort of closeout sale, so you can expect to pay roughly the same price for a Miche hub wherever you go. In the interest of supporting the local bike shop, I decided to simply order the hub through the shop, thus saving shipping and giving them my business.

This was my first mistake.

A few after I placed the order, I stopped in to check the status. Oops, they said, we forgot to order the hub. The person that took my order generally handles all the fixed gear special orders, but he went on vacation, and in his absence, no one bothered to check the order book. Excellent. I wasn’t in dire need of the equipment, and I didn’t even have a rim or spokes, so I wasn’t terribly upset. They placed the order the next day, and within two more weeks, I had the hub, at a bit of a discount thanks to their mistake.

The next decision would be the rim and spokes. I wanted to give my money to the shop again, but they didn’t stock any rims, and I didn’t want to wait another two or three weeks. Again, in the interest of staying local, I called a few other shops, and finally found one that had a rim comparable to the MA-3 for a decent price. I stopped by the shop, explained my situation, and they said they could also cut spokes if they didn’t have the proper size in stock.

Here’s where I didn’t do my homework.

I should have already calculated the proper spoke length for the rim they stocked with the handy spreadsheet that is freely availabe. But I didn’t. They wanted to charge me nearly $30 to calculate the spoke length. This on top of the $1 they wanted to charge me for every spoke (32 were needed). Sorry, I said, but I can do that myself. So I left empty-handed. So that’s it, I decided. Enough of supporting the local economoy. Big online retailer, here I come. I found a MA-3 rim on sale, and spokes for less than half of what the local shops wanted to charge. I was even able to upgrade to two day shipping for only $3. I was officially in business.

Or not.

It turns out the company didn’t send the purchase next day. They sent it parcel post, meaning 7-10 business days. And, they shipped the spokes apart from the rim (because of course, there’s no room for 40 spokes in a rim box, right?). The rim arrived in roughly 7 days, while the spokes went from Durham, NC, to York PA, to Memphis TN, and finally to Pittsburgh. Yesterday the package arrived, and I was excited to start the project.

After dinner, I sat down and started lacing. It was easier than expected, the only real trick being getting the second set of trailing spokes started (the guide I had printed had a page break in the middle of the diagram). As I finished the second set of leading spokes, I noticed my supply of spoke nipples dwindling faster than the supply of spokes. It seems the second bag of spokes had been ripped prior to shipping, and was missing 10 nipples. So there I was — five empty spoke holes, unable to complete the task. I wasn’t even upset, really. How could I be, given the absurdity of the entire process?

Now, I can only hope that the local economy can sell me five spoke nipples…

Posted on 6 December 2005