To Ease The Shock

Consternation followed his victory.

There weren't any rumors of doping or other cheating.  Nor were any questionable decisions by race officials.

The fact that he was 37 years old--ancient for a European pro cyclist--or that he'd been trying to win that particular race for years didn't get tongues wagging.  Even his palmares, which included a number of wins and high places in one-day races but no such results in multi-day events, wasn't the reason why cycling fans and the media were shocked when he won the Paris-Roubaix.

When Gilbert Duclos-Lassalle ascended the podium in the Roubaix Velodrome on 12 April 1992, no one talked about the course of the annual race--dubbed "L'enfer du nord" (the Hell of the North) for its cobblestones, mud and unpredictable weather-- or his persévérance.  Rather, all of the attention was on his bike--specifically, one part.

At that time, suspension or "telescoping" (as they're called in Britain) front forks were the hot new item on mountain bikes.  Until that day, no one had seen them on road bikes.  

Gibus, as he was called, rode a LeMond road bike equipped with a specially-modified Rock Shox fork.  The funny thing is that, with all due respect to LeMond bikes, the fork was really its only unusual feature.  The rest of the frame was a typical road bike of the time, equipped with standard Campagnolo road components.

What's surprising, to me, is that there weren't more attempts to create suspended road bikes before Gibus rode his.   The great Bernard Hinault won the Tour de France five times and a number of one-day events.  But he refused to ride Paris-Roubaix until 1981 (he won) because the jarring conditions would aggravate his tendinitis, the condition that caused him to withdraw from the cold, rainy 1980 Tour.  He's not the only elite cyclist who couldn't or wouldn't ride P-R because of bone-shaking conditions.

Since then, road bikes have incorporated various forms of  front suspension.  Rear suspension, however, caught on in any major way with professionals because it's difficult to achieve a balance between weight, shock absorption when needed and stiffness when ridden on smooth surfaces.

In April 2018, Specialized applied for a patent describing a system that allows the upper portion of a bike's seat post to move and absorb shock.  To accomplish this, the seat post is clamped much further down the seat tube.  The patent application, approved in October of last year, indicates that a pivot could be placed there and that it might be adjustable to the rider's weight.

According Specialized, the system could make its appearance on, appropriately enough, the company's Roubaix model.  And it might come out next year:  the 30th anniversary of Gilbert Duclos-Lassalle's first Paris-Roubaix win. (He also won the following year.)

I can't say I'm shocked. 

Photo of Gilbert Duclos-Lassalle in 1992 Paris-Roubaix by Graham Watson.  Drawings from Specialized patent application.

Fall Classics?

A few weeks ago, I wrote about how the coronavirus might keep you from getting the new bike you want. 

The other day, I wondered whether quarantines or containment zones might keep us from doing some of our regular rides--or force us to re-route them.

Now I've learned that bike races, just like other sporting events can be affected.  The Sea Otter Classic, which had been scheduled for next month in Monterey, California,  has been rescheduled for 1-4 October.  

Of course I understand organizers' reasons for re-scheduling the event.  And, given that Italy is basically under lockdown because of its virus outbreak, it's no surprise that this year's Strade Bianche and Milano-San Remo one-day classic races have been postponed.  So, I wonder whether upcoming "classics" further north in Europe, such as Gent-Wevelgem and Paris-Roubaix will also be affected, as the scope of the outbreak is spreading and France has banned gatherings of 1000 or more people.

If those races are postponed or cancelled, what will happen to the Giro d'Italia, which runs in May, or the Tour de France or Vuelta a Espana if the epidemic engulfs those countries.   
David Lappartient, the president of the Union de Cyclisme Internationale, says that canceling the Giro or the Tour would be a "disaster" for cycling.  He seemed more optimistic about the prospects for the Tour, not only because he's French, but also because the worst of the crisis may pass before the race starts.

The Tour's grand depart is scheduled for 27 July--a week earlier than normal--because of the Tokyo Olympics, which themselves may be postponed.

Perhaps the Sea Otter won't be the only major cycling event in October after all. Or, to put it another way, the World Series might not be the only Fall Classic this year!

Michael Goolaerts, R.I.P.

Professional athletes are usually young and in prime physical condition.  That is why almost nobody expects one to die while competing or training.

So it was for Michael Goolaerts.  The 23-year-old Belgian collapsed from cardiac arrest during Paris-Roubaix, the one-day race often dubbed "L'enfer du nord" (the Hell of the North).  

It was originally reported that Goolaerts crashed.  There are no images available, but more recent reports say that he was found on the side of a cobblestoned road, where he is believed to have fallen.  No other riders were found at the scene.  

From there, he was airlifted to a hospital in the northern French city of Lille where he died, surrounded by his family.

Current reports say that he died of cardiac arrest, which could easily explain his fall and why medical assistance was to no avail.  Unlike a heart attack, during which the heart to continues to beat, in cardiac arrest, the heart immediately stops pumping blood to the brain, lungs and other organs.  A heart attack requires prompt attention, while a cardiac arrest victim needs almost immediate help if he or she is to survive, let alone recover.

Another way that cardiac arrest differs from a heart attack is that the former comes without warning.  That is why we occasionally hear of athletes suddenly collapsing and dying, as Goolaerts seems to have done, and why it is so surprising.

I give my condolences:  I can hardly imagine the shock and grief his family, friends and colleagues in the cycling community are feeling.

L'Enfer du DUMBO

I've been to Hell.


All right.  I confess (Do you still go to Hell if you confess):  I wrote that first sentence to get your attention.  I didn't see lakes of fire or papal prelates or industrial/military plutocrats with encased in ice up to their necks.  And I didn't have an out-of-body experience.

But I did ride over something that, on a fixed-gear bike, can very closely resemble Hell:

Riding over this street made me think of the Paris-Roubaix race, often called L'Enfer du Nord (The Hell of the North).  Every year in April, the race organizers look for the roads in northern France and Belgium with the pointiest cobblestones or with all sorts of other hazards.

Bernard Hinault is a five-time Tour de France winner and very old-school racer:  Unlike, say, Lance, he used to ride--and, very often, win--all sorts of races all over Europe.  But he flatly refused to ride in L'Enfer.  It's hard to blame him:  He had chronic tendinitis in one knee, a condition that caused him to abandon the 1980 Tour de France while he was wearing the leader's yellow jersey.  Finally, the following year, he rode Paris- Roubaix--the only time he would do so--and won.  


Wouldn't you like to see a race like that run through DUMBO, where I took the photo?  From there, such a race could spin through other nearby industrial areas along the Brooklyn waterfront.  There are also other areas--most of them industrial or post-industrial--with Belgian cobblestones like the ones you see in the photo.  


When I had a mountain bike with shocks, I used to ride over those streets for fun.  The experience was still jarring, because most mountain bike shocks are designed to keep the bike stable rather than to cushion the rider.  It's the kind of joyously harebrained thing you do when you're young--or, as I was, full of testosterone (and, possibly, other substances).  


After bouncing along the DUMBO cobblestones, I stopped in Recycle A Bicycle, where I have been volunteering.  The young woman there was working on this bike:

She assured me that the paint job was as it appeared to me; I was not seeing an optical illusion induced by the ride I'd just done!

Classic Beginnings To Spring

Now we're having the sort of weather we normally get in the latter parts of November or Feburary.  So many people in this part of the world are wondering whether or not we had winter.


Officially, Spring began about a week and a half ago.  Of course, we all know that the beginning or end of a season hasn't much to do with an equinox. Or so it seems. 


Some Irish people argue that Spring begins on St. Patrick's Day.  Some old Sicilians say it starts with the feast of San Giuseppe (St. Joseph) on the 19th.  (I don't think it does; however, it's a great excuse for eating a sfingi.)  However, other Italians argue that the season commences with the Milano-San Remo race.  In fact, the race is commonly nicknamed "La Primavera." Other Europeans think la primavera or le printemps begins on the day of the nearest one-day "classic".  


One-day classics usually highlight a particular aspect of road racing such as sprinting (e.g., Milano-San Remo), climbing (La Fleche Wallonne) or the sheer ability to endure pain and torture (See the Paris-Roubaix, a.k.a., "L'enfer du nord.").  As one might expect, the first ones are held in Italy and, from there, they move northward to France, Belgium and the Netherlands.  


In times past, it was important for even the top racers to place well, if not win.  Cycling, which until the 1980's was sponsored mainly by bicycle-related companies and other mom-and-pop businesses, didn't pay as well as other sports like soccer/football.  Even Eddy Mercx built up his bank account--along with his muscles and his reputation--by winning more classics than any other racer in history.  That is one reason why, Lance's seven Tour de France wins notwithstanding, Europeans still hold Mercx in higher esteem--more than three decades after his retirement-- than just about any other racer.


Ironically, Australians won this year's and last year's Milan-San Remo.  In the native country of Simon Gerrans and Matt Goss, autumn was beginning when they won the race, as it was in 2009 when their countryman Mark Cavendish won.

Hotter Than...

Today was so hot...


Today was hotter than...


Today has been one of those days when, it seems, everyone has his or her own version of one of those two declarations.  Today was so hot that my lycra melted off me.


I could have used that line a few years ago.  These days, I don't own any lycra bike clothes, or much of anything in lycra.  So I have to come up with something new, I guess.


Being the religious sort that I am (ha, ha), I can't say hotter than aitch-ee-double-toothpick.  But it seems that a bunch of riders in Texas can.  They even have a ride named after it:  The Hotter 'N Hell 100. 

Now, I'll admit, I have never been to HHH (the last "H" is for "Hundred") or, for that matter, Wichita Falls, Texas.  But if it's even hotter than it is today, or they have days like this every day for months on end (as they have in the part of Florida where my parents live), I'm not so sure I'd want to go there, at least at this time of year.  


Now, I have ridden in the mid-afternoon heat of days even hotter than this.  So I suppose that I could condition myself for HHH.  After all, I have ridden a hundred miles on days when the temperature reached 100 F.  I admit, though, I haven't done anything like that in a while.


But something about the ride intrigues me.  Well, any ride with aitch-ee-double-toothpick in its name is bound to get my attention. The grandparent of all such rides is, of course, l'Enfer du Nord, or the aitch-ee-double-toothpick of the North, otherwise known as the Paris-Roubaix. It's held in early spring every year, and the weather has ranged from hot and dusty to windy and snowy--and everything in between.  At least, anyone who signs up for HHH knows it's going to be hot, or so I imagine.


Is that hot weather guaranteed?  If the day turns out, by some chance, to be more like a perfect spring day--say, 70 degrees F without a cloud in the sky or much humidity--can the participants demand a refund of their registration fees?


Hmm...What if a cyclo-cross race were held and all the mud dried?  Or what if there were no snow for Iditarod?  What would people do?


If you're reading this and you're going to ride in HHH, I wish you well.  Have fun!