Bike Tour of Duty
Some of you may know that I've run a couple of marathons in the past two years. Some because one of my running photos was my MySpace profile picture for a spell, others because I insisted on telling you. I'm here to tell you today that the marathon man is no longer in the building. My lean physique has been relegated to that of a middle-aged man who plays with his kids on the weekends, but otherwise eats Cheetos and uses a fair amount of mayonnaise. Rest assured, I am not that man - I just look like him.
So what do I do for fitness these days without a stringent schedule to keep me in check? Walk around a classroom and pass out papers, for one. Run down vandals, if there are any (it's been a slow year). Lastly, I'll hop on a bike now and then and spin around for an hour or two.
Biking hasn't ever been my passion, probably ever since the time I went mountain-biking at a place called Iron Hill and rolled down a very irony hill, resulting in 20 stitches in my arm and back. Ever since then, it hasn't procured the same zeal from me as running on safe, well-lit and iron free streets. The craziest I'll get these days is a spin around the boardwalk or a beginner's-level ride down a dirt path in the Pacific Palisades.
But leave it to consumerism to whet my palate once again. I purchased a new bike rack several months ago that had been collecting dust, and I finally decided to start getting my money's worth. As soon as I put the bike on it, the old emotions and excitement pre-Iron Hill came rushing back. Wouldn't you know it, but it was just in time for Dave to mention off-handedly, "Hey, are you doing the Acura Bike Tour this year?" Having no clue what it was, I said, "Yes."
Later that day, googling the hell out of "bike", "tour", "acura" and "distance", I found out that it is a 22 mile "tour" through downtown LA. "Tour" is the very appropriate word to keep in mind as you read the rest of this blog. The tour starts and stops at USC, and snakes its way in and out of beautiful Angeleno landmarks such as Skid Row, Highway 101/110 interchange, Downtown (aka That Place We All Drive By on Our Way to the Staples Center), and Fashion District (aka any Metropolitan city center in Southeast Asia, plus bums). Really, I was doing it for the camaraderie of riding my bike next to some friends for an hour or two.
Perhaps to discourage lame-asses from signing up, the start time is 6:00AM on a Sunday, which means a splendid 5:00 AM wakeup call on a day off. We are not lame-asses, however, so we were up and at 'em at five sharp, connecting bungee cords and scraping knees on bike chains in the bitter blue cold. I gave up coffee and sweets recently, so that rules out my usual breakfast when I'm up and available enough to have it. So I ate trail mix. For breakfast. In the cold.
We got to USC with time to spare, and zipped down to the start just in time to see massive fireworks exploding overhead. Those pitiable locals must've thought we were getting bombed by North Korea. That signified the start, so off we went. Sort of. A marathon starts slow, but at least you're walk-running. A bike tour starts off slow, and you walk alongside your bike for 300 yards, banging into other zealous bikers.
I suppose now's a good time to bring up one of the finer aspects of the Bike Tour - anyone, and I really, truly mean anyone, can do it. This includes 3 year-olds to 233 year-olds, coherent to bat-shit insane, cologne-drenched to foul-smelling, novice bikers to Lance Armstrong wannabes. And can I just interject here to say that just because you have a logo on your jersey that you bought from Helen's Cycles does not mean you are Lance himself. You do not have the right to shout, "ON YOUR LEFT!" or "COMING THROUGH!" or "BIKE STRAIGHT!" at the top of your lungs at me. Go up front if you must. Leave us casual bikers alone.
Another major difference between the bike tour and the marathon race is that for a "tour," the bike event produces an awful lot of injuries. During a marathon, you may see some dehydrated folks, sure. But you'll never see blood pouring from heads, as I did. Yep, right around the midway point, there was a man hunched on the ground, not moving, with blood all around him. Two bike cops were poking him and looking at each other, scratching their heads. I'm not joking - this man was in bad shape. A few minutes later, I saw a man on a stretcher getting carted into an ambulance. A mere fifteen minutes after that, I glanced over to the sidewalk and inadvertently witnesses a young boy bawling his eyes out, holding his kneecap. The bike "tour" does not eff around, ladies and gentlemen. If you are not vigilant, it will make you bleed.
We finished at around two hours, and managed to scope the elite marathoners for the LA marathon (starting right after the bike tour). They moved with such fluidity, such ease, that we were mesmerized. What was it about them that looked so appealing, made me yearn for that kind of race as opposed to the one I had just finished?
Oh yeah - none of them was BLEEDING PROFUSELY FROM THE HEAD.
So what do I do for fitness these days without a stringent schedule to keep me in check? Walk around a classroom and pass out papers, for one. Run down vandals, if there are any (it's been a slow year). Lastly, I'll hop on a bike now and then and spin around for an hour or two.
Biking hasn't ever been my passion, probably ever since the time I went mountain-biking at a place called Iron Hill and rolled down a very irony hill, resulting in 20 stitches in my arm and back. Ever since then, it hasn't procured the same zeal from me as running on safe, well-lit and iron free streets. The craziest I'll get these days is a spin around the boardwalk or a beginner's-level ride down a dirt path in the Pacific Palisades.
But leave it to consumerism to whet my palate once again. I purchased a new bike rack several months ago that had been collecting dust, and I finally decided to start getting my money's worth. As soon as I put the bike on it, the old emotions and excitement pre-Iron Hill came rushing back. Wouldn't you know it, but it was just in time for Dave to mention off-handedly, "Hey, are you doing the Acura Bike Tour this year?" Having no clue what it was, I said, "Yes."
Later that day, googling the hell out of "bike", "tour", "acura" and "distance", I found out that it is a 22 mile "tour" through downtown LA. "Tour" is the very appropriate word to keep in mind as you read the rest of this blog. The tour starts and stops at USC, and snakes its way in and out of beautiful Angeleno landmarks such as Skid Row, Highway 101/110 interchange, Downtown (aka That Place We All Drive By on Our Way to the Staples Center), and Fashion District (aka any Metropolitan city center in Southeast Asia, plus bums). Really, I was doing it for the camaraderie of riding my bike next to some friends for an hour or two.
Perhaps to discourage lame-asses from signing up, the start time is 6:00AM on a Sunday, which means a splendid 5:00 AM wakeup call on a day off. We are not lame-asses, however, so we were up and at 'em at five sharp, connecting bungee cords and scraping knees on bike chains in the bitter blue cold. I gave up coffee and sweets recently, so that rules out my usual breakfast when I'm up and available enough to have it. So I ate trail mix. For breakfast. In the cold.
We got to USC with time to spare, and zipped down to the start just in time to see massive fireworks exploding overhead. Those pitiable locals must've thought we were getting bombed by North Korea. That signified the start, so off we went. Sort of. A marathon starts slow, but at least you're walk-running. A bike tour starts off slow, and you walk alongside your bike for 300 yards, banging into other zealous bikers.
I suppose now's a good time to bring up one of the finer aspects of the Bike Tour - anyone, and I really, truly mean anyone, can do it. This includes 3 year-olds to 233 year-olds, coherent to bat-shit insane, cologne-drenched to foul-smelling, novice bikers to Lance Armstrong wannabes. And can I just interject here to say that just because you have a logo on your jersey that you bought from Helen's Cycles does not mean you are Lance himself. You do not have the right to shout, "ON YOUR LEFT!" or "COMING THROUGH!" or "BIKE STRAIGHT!" at the top of your lungs at me. Go up front if you must. Leave us casual bikers alone.
Another major difference between the bike tour and the marathon race is that for a "tour," the bike event produces an awful lot of injuries. During a marathon, you may see some dehydrated folks, sure. But you'll never see blood pouring from heads, as I did. Yep, right around the midway point, there was a man hunched on the ground, not moving, with blood all around him. Two bike cops were poking him and looking at each other, scratching their heads. I'm not joking - this man was in bad shape. A few minutes later, I saw a man on a stretcher getting carted into an ambulance. A mere fifteen minutes after that, I glanced over to the sidewalk and inadvertently witnesses a young boy bawling his eyes out, holding his kneecap. The bike "tour" does not eff around, ladies and gentlemen. If you are not vigilant, it will make you bleed.
We finished at around two hours, and managed to scope the elite marathoners for the LA marathon (starting right after the bike tour). They moved with such fluidity, such ease, that we were mesmerized. What was it about them that looked so appealing, made me yearn for that kind of race as opposed to the one I had just finished?
Oh yeah - none of them was BLEEDING PROFUSELY FROM THE HEAD.
posted by Smidge at 8:23 PM
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