A Race You Really Can't Win Without Trying

I'm riding the Lento.

Most things sound better in Italian. (One of the few exceptions is the mushroom, fungo in la bella lingua.)  And if I didn't know any better, I'd sign up for it.

But those of you who know the language--or music terminology--know that "lento" means "slow."  Believe it or not, there's actually an event in which people try to go slowly--something that comes naturally to me at my age!

What's really wild, though, is a barrier the riders were trying to break.  Just as running a mile in four minutes or less seemed impossible until Roger Bannister did it in 1954, one wonders how someone who isn't completely immobile can ride less than a kilometer (about .625 mile) in an hour.  That was the goal of Davide Formolo and Maria Vittoria Sperotto at the Velodromo Rino Mercante del Bassano di Grappa, in the Veneto region.  They were trying to "better" the old mark of 1070 meters set by Bruno Zanoni in the same event two years ago.

Formolo and Speretto shattered that record by riding 918 meters.

Now, if you think you can out-do them simply by stopping for a latte every 30 seconds, think again.  The cyclists in the Lento are every bit as fit as the riders you'd see in any race:  Formolo, in fact, has competed in, and finished, all of the Big Three races and placed as high as ninth in the Vuelta. But they're not trying to showcase their power or speed, as someone trying to break (in the sense we'd normally think of) a distance or speed record.  What the Lento rewards, instead, are skill and patience.  

The rules of the race are that riders must always ride forward at the slowest possible speed without coming to a complete stop, and they must do so on a geared bike without brakes.  

In a way, the event reminds me of something theater and film directors have long said:  People can't play themselves.  Likewise, you can't win an event like the Lento if your normal speed is slow:  You have to be strong, fast and skilled enough to control yourself at the slowest possible speed.    

A Path For Stolen Bikes

Between 2005 and 2010, a number of European cities, mainly in the north and west, initiated bike-share programs.  Paris and Rome were among them.  Both ran into similar problems, among them vandalism and theft.  In both the City of Light and the Eternal City, bikes ended up at the bottom of bodies of water:  the Canal Saint Martin in Paris and the Tiber in Rome.  Also, a number of bikes went to--and a few were recovered in North Africa and Eastern Europe, particularly Romania.

The fact that so many bikes were not returned led Rome to pull the plug on its program, and for two companies to abandon the city.  The Velib program nearly met the same fate before a Spanish company, Smovengo, took it over and rebranded it as Velib Metropole in 2018.

Over the years, I have heard from friends and acquaintances in France and elsewhere that Romania is a common destination for goods, including everything from watches and designer clothing to priceless artwork, stolen in other parts of Europe. The reasons I've heard and read include everything from the relative poverty of the country to the corruption or inefficacy of police and government officials.  

Whatever the reasons, it seems that high-profile sports teams--including those in cycling--are not immune to the problem.  About a month ago, the Italian national team competed--and won seven medals--in this year's World track championships, held in Roubaix, Belgium (the end-point of the Paris-Roubaix race, a.k.a. "L'enfer du nord.).  The team stayed in a hotel just over the border in Lille, France that was selected specifically for its safety.

Well, we all know that stuff happens even in the safest places and structures.  The team was getting ready for its return home when 22 of its Pinarellos--including four with a distinctive gold--were stolen from a team van.  In total, those bikes were valued at around 400,000 Euros (about 451,790 USD).

Italian team members Simone Consonni, Filippo Ganna, Francesco Lamon and Jonathan Milan on the track bikes that were stolen.

 

The good news is that police recovered the bikes after they caught some criminals in the act of trying to sell  them.  Searches also turned up--surprise, surprise--other stolen goods, including eight televisions, ten mobile phones and drugs, in addition to 2800 Euros in cash.  

On Monday, team mechanics travelled to Romania to pick up the bikes and bring them back in Italy. 

A Perfect Storm Of Hate

I am a transgender woman and a cyclist.  That means I belong to two groups of people for whom it means that becoming more visible means having a target pinned on your back.

That's how it seems, anyway.  On some jobs, when I've done anything that draws positive attention--whether it's an excellent review, volunteering for a committee or, sometimes, even outside activities, like my writing--some co-workers, including those of higher rank than mine, become Captain Ahabs to my Moby Dick.  Until that happens, they congratulate themselves for "tolerating" me.  But when I accomplish something through my creativity and hard work, they seem to think that someone like me (or unlike them) isn't supposed to do such things.  

Likewise, as cycling for transportation as well as recreation becomes more mainstream, it stokes whatever hatreds and resentments some folks have toward us--or, at least, whatever notions, however unfounded, they have about us. We are seen as taking something--"their" streets or, perhaps, some notion of what it means to live a meaningful and productive life.  We are also accused of "not paying taxes" when, in fact, as I pointed out to one driver,  we pay more taxes for things we don't use, such as gasoline and highways.  

An unfortunate corollary to the things I've described can be seen in the aftermath of recent protests against the ways police, in too many places, treat Black*, Hispanic and Native American people.  It seems that, like trans and non-binary folks and cyclists, racial and ethnic minorities--especially Blacks and, in some parts of the country, Native Americans--have similarly been targeted for harassment and violence. Unfortunately, it's no surprise when you realize that the Ku Klux Klan became a force in the wake of Reconstruction, and lynchings and other kinds of violence against Black people surged in the years just after World War I, when large numbers of Black soldiers returned home, and during and after the Civil Rights protests of the 1950s and 1960s.

One parallel between what I've experienced, if less intensely, as a cyclist and trans woman and what Blacks too often endure is that we and they are too often targeted for doing or accomplishing things, or being in a place we're "not supposed to." And, being a member of one of the groups I've mentioned can compound the harassment you might experience as a member of one of the other groups.  As an example, one hot day early in my gender-affirmation process (I was on hormones for about two years and had begun living and working as female), a couple of cops pulled me over on some made-up charge while I was riding home. Their interrogation was punctuated by comments like, "I like your bike" and "You have nice legs." 

Elliot Reed also experienced an unfortunate confluence of bigotry while he was out for his morning ride two weeks ago.  The 50-year-old Texan is not only a cyclist in a car-centric, red-meat state; he is also--you guessed it--Black.  

When he stopped at an intersection, 25-year-old Collin Joseph Fries (great name for someone in a red-meat state, isn't it?)  drove up along side him.  "He was just looking at me at the stop sign," Reed recalls.  "He said, 'You need to get out of this neighborhood because you're making a lot of people nervous."  

Then Fries upped the ante:  "You don't live here, and if I catch you, I'm gonna do something to you."

Reed says he tried to get away and  get neighbors to confirm that he indeed lives in the neighborhood.  Then he pulled out his cell phone to record the incident.  At that point, he recalls, Fries got out of his car and used the N-word.  Things went downhill, very quickly, from there. 

Several witnesses have confirmed everything I've described so far, and what I'm about to relate.  Fries chased Reed, caught him and punched him so hard and so often that he lost consciousness. Those same witnesses reported that Fries continued to punch him even after he lost consciousness.

The attack left Reed with cuts requiring numerous stitches on his face, a broken tooth, fractured cheek bone and a burst blood vessel in his eye.

From Black Enterprise

Now, you might expect that, with all of those witnesses giving essentially the same account, Fries would be facing some serious charges.  For the moment, though, he's only been charged with a misdemeanor for aggravated assault.  (Is that a Harris County thing?  If something is "assault" and it's "aggravated," how can it be called a "misdemeanor?")  The District Attorney's office, however, says the investigation is "ongoing" and that it's awaiting medical records of the injuries and other evidence from the investigating officers.

At the very least, I think, Fries should be charged with something more serious related to Reed's injuries--and a hate crime.  For that matter, anyone who is attacked because of his or her identity--yes, I include motorists who did what Fries did or pedestrians who push people off their bicycles because their victims are cyclists--should be so charged, and sentenced.

*  I am using the term "Black" because I want to include immigrants and descendants from the Caribbean and Africa, as well those who were born here. They, too often, experience the same sort of hostility and violence as African Americans.

When A Death Is A "Failure To Yield"

A Postal Service driver runs over and kills a cyclist.

Five months later, that driver is...charged with a misdemeanor for "failure to yield." And he's gotten a ticket for..."failure to exercise due care."

That "failure to yield" charge "doesn't even suggest that a man died," Christopher Brimer lamented.  "It's more  like, 'Whoopsie, I guess I didn't look."

Ms. Brimer has a right to be angry:  The cyclist who died in the crash on 29 June is her husband, Jeffrey Williamson.  He was riding northbound (uptown to us New Yorkers) on Central Park West.  He had the right of way as he crossed the intersection at West 86th Street when Sergei Alekseev made a right turn with his 2019m Peterbilt truck.  Around 5:40 pm--still broad daylight at that time of year--Alekseev slammed into Williamson.

Jeffrey Williamson (inset) and the scene of his fatal crash.  Photo by Ken Coughlin, from Streetsblog

A civil notice of claim has been filed against the Postal Service, but won't be dealt with until after the criminal case is resolved.  Brimer's lawyer, Steve Vaccaro says that Alekseev should plead guilty.

Even though the charges against him seem almost trivial, they are still exceptionally rare.  Last year, the NYPD wrote 35,257 summonses for failure to yield.  That translates to roughly one per day in each of the city's 77 precincts.  What's even more galling is that such summonses are rare even in fatal crashes:  Streetsblog reported that in 2019, only six drivers--about one out of five-- who killed cyclists got so much as a summons.  The rate for drivers who killed pedestrians, while better, is still too low:  58 percent.

What makes Williamson's death all the more egregious, though, is that Alekseev was driving where trucks aren't permitted.  (I know this because I've cycled on Central Park West many times, before and since the bike lane was designated on it.)  On top of that, the USPS has a reputation of "getting away with murder." It is a behemoth that can summon lots of money and other resources.  I don't know what Brimer's financial situation is, but even if she's a multimillionaire and Vaccaro is one of the best lawyers in the world, she's fighting a lonely battle--against the USPS, and the hidebound culture of the NYPD that could only come up with a charge of "failure to yield" in her husband's death.

Priorities

 If you have ever crashed, which did you take care of first:  your body or your bike?

John Karras R.I.P.

It began as a lark. Nearly half a century later, it had become the world's oldest, largest and longest bike recreational bike ride.

In 1973, a couple of Iowa newspaper guys decided to pedal across their state:  about 700 kilometers from the Missouri to the Mississippi River.  They wrote about their adventures for their newspaper which, as one of the riders jokingly said, allowed them to claim that their adventure was part of their job and therefore get the newspaper to pay for it.

Perhaps more surprising to them, though, was that they went along with their editor's idea of allowing readers to ride with them--something one of the two fellows thought was "stupid."  His disdain turned to anxiety when more than 100 riders showed up at the starting line.

So was the Register's Annual Great Bicycle Ride Across Iowa (RAGBRAI) born.  The ride has set off every year since except for 2020, owing to the pandemic.  The most edition of the ride included more than 15,000 cyclists.

Perhaps more important, RAGBRAI--which could have disappeared along with the 1970s Bike Boom--helped to spur interest in bike touring and, arguably, led to the construction of a bike lane network that criscrosses the state, as well as bike routes beyond the Hawkeye State's boundaries.  It also helped to raise the State's profile, which people identify with RAGBRAI ("that ride") in much the same way that France is linked to its Tour and Italy to the Giro.

When they founded the ride, Donald Kaul and John Karras were Register columnists.  Kaul passed away from cancer three years ago.  He was 83 years old.  Earlier this week, 91-year-old Karras followed him to that great bike tour in the sky.

I hope to do RAGBRAI.  And I will remember Karras--and Kaul.

John Karras

Disabled Man's Bike Stolen

In yesterday's post, I talked about the importance of bicycles, sometimes modified, for people with disabilities.  Some people, like a man I mentioned, can't get drivers' licenses because of their disabilities, but they can still pedal a two- or three-wheeler.  That can allow disabled folks to get to jobs or classes, or exercise, they might not have otherwise.  Being able to study, make a living and get exercise--or simply enjoy some of the other things normally-abled people take for granted--brings about a sense of independence and some semblance of control over their lives.  

For some disabled people, such as Randy Bowling, simply getting a bike is an accomplishment.  The 50-year-old Hamilton, Ohio resident suffered a traumatic brain injury at age 16.  A few months ago, he spent $157 on a bike he rode four miles, each way, to and from his job at a Wal-Mart.  "It was the first bike I ever bought myself," he said.

Now that bike is gone.  On Saturday night, Bowling rode to the door of a nearby store.  He stepped inside and, less than a minute later, a man rode up on another bike, grabbed Bowling's ride, and took off.  The theft was captured on the store's video camera.

Although he needs the job and says he's prepared to walk to work if he must, Bowling says he doesn't feel angry toward the guy who took his bike.  "I'd rather talk to him and help him get a job," he expains.

Helping Veterans--And Everyone--With Disabilites

Today is Veterans' Day here in the US.  I don't know what I could say to, or about, veterans that isn't a platitude at best.  What I can say, though, is that I am pro-veteran precisely because I am anti-war. It's a disgrace to see a former service member living under an overpass and, honestly, the kind of health care, physical and mental, that too many veterans get--or don't get.

What I say is especially true of disabled veterans.  Even those whose immediate needs are being met by the Veterans' Administration and other organizations often face other challenges, especially in terms of mobility.  That difficulty in getting around is not just an inconvenience or a destroyer of pleasure; it also deters too many veterans (and other disabled people) from employment, education and the means of obtaining and maintaining health.  

Although Chesterfield, Virginia resident James Howard's paralysis wasn't a result of his service in the 82nd Airborne Division, the retired US Army Ranger understands just how important mobility is. He was given a recumbent bicycle adapted to his needs after his diving accident.  That inspired him to "give back," he says, by advocating for fellow veterans and people with disabilities.  

He has also helped in a more concrete way by launching REACHcycles.  To date, it has provided over 600 adaptable three-wheeled bikes to disabled veterans, children and other folks. Recipients have included a triple amputee as well as a blind child.  Those bikes allow their riders to go to jobs and schools to which they might not otherwise have access. (I am thinking now of a man I knew, now gone, who couldn't get a drivers' license because of his lack of peripheral vision.  He could, however, ride his bike to work.)  They also help, especially the kids, to prevent other health problems:  Disabled people often become obese and develop diabetes and other degenerative conditions as a result of their physical inactivity.  

So, being the pro-veteran person I am, I want to say that the Veterans' Administration and other relevant government entities (and insurance companies) should pay folks like James Howard--and the folks who build and adapt the bikes he provides--for their services.  And, of course, provide them with anything else they need for their physical and mental health.      

For Her Country, And Everyone’s

 Many cycling events, from local charity rides to races involving world-class riders, have been cancelled or postponed during the pandemic.  The cancelled rides were, mostly, annual events, and one assumes that they will resume once things return to “normal,” whatever that may mean.

On the other hand, Afghanistan’s female cyclists have no such hope.  Nobody really knows what could return that country to what it was three months ago, before the Taliban took power.  Women are losing the rights they regained during the past two decades—including, in effect, the right to ride a bicycle, an effect of the Taliban’s dress codes and prohibition against women venturing outside their homes without a male relative.

For some women, not being allowed to ride a bike means that they have no way to get to their jobs or schools—if indeed they are still allowed to work or study.  For some, though, it spells the end of their lives unless they can get out of the country and have a sponsor or other help waiting for them wherever they land.

Those women include Rukhsar Habibzi. Before she evacuated from Kabul Airport (just before it shut down) she was riding with the Afghan women’s national team and attending dental school.  Oh, and her activism got her a nomination for a Nobel Peace Prize—and threats of gender-based violence.

From Kabul, she was brought to Quatar, then to a US military base in Germany and an immigration center in New Jersey, where she waited for an emergency visa before settling in another state last week. 

She is slated to compete through 2023 for the Twenty24 development team.  Twenty24 owner Nicola Cranmer has set up a GoFundMe page to help Habibzai with rent, food, utilities, clothing, books and tuition. This fundraising effort “is not to fund a cycling team,” Cranmer stresses. Rather, she is trying to help a young woman become “the best athlete, student and leader she can be” after leaving her country “with just her purse.”  As an emergency visa holder, Habibzai gets very little assistance from the government.

She probably has dreams of winning races.  But Habibzai summed up her real goal in training and studying: “I want to showcase the physical and mental strength of an Afghan woman to Afghanistan and the whole world.” That, she believes, will show that “a woman is not weak” and that “success can be achieved by any gender.”

I’d be happy to have someone like her in my country!

What Do They Carry?

 Every once in a while, I see an article or blogpost about carrying stuff on your bicycle.  They mention the usual things:  racks, panniers, other bike bags, baskets, backpacks, trailers and such.

None of them, though, has ever mentioned anything like this: