Winning By Two Weeks

Minutes or seconds.

Kilometers or meters. Miles or feet.

Those are the margins by which world records are broken in cycling. Seconds or minutes could separate a current from a former record holder on a particular course or distance. Meters, feet, kilometers or miles demarcate the difference between a new and an old record for distance pedaled over an hour or some other fixed amount of time.

But two weeks? 

Well, Lael Wilcox beat a world record by that much.

To be clear, she wasn’t in a UCI-sanctioned race. I reckon, however, that her speed and endurance could match, or better, that of any rider on the World Cup circuit. Over the past three and a half months, she’s put in more miles or kilometers than most racers ride in a year—and, on an average day, she covered more ground than cyclists on a stage of a multi-day extravaganza like the Tour, Giro or Vuelta.

So, on what kind of ride did she best her nearest rival by two weeks? 

It’s one that she took—or took her, depending on your point of view—around the world. Beginning and ending in Chicago, she covered 18,125 miles (29169 kilometers) over four continents in 108 days, 12 hours and 12 minutes.

The previous women’s record holder, Jenny Graham of Scotland, did her 2018 world tour in 124 days and 11 hours.

Her grand tour ended on 11 September. How did she celebrate? By taking a ride with her wife, photojournalist Rue Kaladyte, who took this photo when Wilcox arrived in Chicago:

Struck—Not By A Car Or SUV—While Cycling To School

People's concerns about cycling safety most commonly are centered around motor vehicles: We all hope that two tons of metal approaching is from behind isn’t steered by someone who’s intoxicated, enraged or simply careless.

The next-most common safety concerns probably are about road or bike lane hazards like potholes, sewer drains with grates that run parallel to the curb or lanes that send us directly into the path of right-turning vehicles.

Depending on where we ride, we may also need to take weather or other natural elements into account. For example, in mountainous areas, I’ve ridden directly from sunshine and summery heat into snow and sleet, and  vice versa.  

And while lightning can flash just about anywhere in the world, Florida seems to be a particular target for those bolts of electricity. But even in the so-called Sunshine State, I don’t think that most cyclists think about their rides—and their days of riding—coming to an end because they were struck by lightning while riding.

That, apparently is what happened to an eleventh-grader in Pembroke Pines, just north of Miami.  He was rushed to a hospital where he was pronounced dead, and there’s a hole where his body was recovered. A home security video picked up the apparent strike, and a resident of the home where the camera was positioned said that she heard the loudest “boom” she’d ever heard right about the time that video captured the unfortunate encounter.

I’ll bet that she didn’t envision, any more than the poor young man did, being struck by lightning while cycling home from school. And I’ll bet that if she thought about cycling safely before that incident, she probably thought more about vehicles crashing into cyclists—which kills more cyclists in Florida than in any other US state.

A Dying Breed?

 

Curtis Phillip, one of New York’s last remaining bike messengers. Photo by Kay Bonrempo.

In 1983-84 I worked for two small businesses in the same industry. Both are long gone. That, on its face, is not remarkable: Few small businesses, in any industry, last four decades.

I have noticed, however, that none of the other companies that were part of that industry when I was working in it are still in business. In fact, industry itself barely exists and what remains of it is very different.

I am talking about the bicycle courier business. Not so long ago, one would see legions of cyclists, most of them young men, large rectangular bags slung across their bodies. pedaling fixed-gear bikes in slaloms through throngs of buses, taxicabs, vans and pedestrians.

I was one of those couriers, and I saw hundreds of them every day. Now I rarely see even one, even in the Wall Street and Midtown areas of Manhattan.

Apparently, bike messengers like the ones I’ve described are a dying breed, not only in New York, but also in Washington DC and other major cities. Their disappearance has been hastened by the pandemic: Many professionals and businesses still haven’t returned to their traditional downtown office spaces.

But the decline of the bike courier business and bike messenger culture has been unfolding for decades: more or less since I made my last delivery four decades ago. While the world-wide web hadn’t come into existence, there were networks that linked computers within certain geographical areas and industries. And fax machines were already in fairly wide use.  Documents that didn’t require physical signatures could therefore be sent remotely. 

For a decade or so after I left the business, the number of messengers didn’t seem to decline much, if at all. They were, however, getting less work and their pay—whether by the hour as or per delivery—stagnated or declined. From what I’ve heard and read, messengers today make less in actual—not adjusted—dollars than I made 40 years ago.

Another blow to the world of messengering I knew was, if not a direct result of, then at least accelerated by, the pandemic: food delivery apps. When people used them, they discovered that they could get their sushi brought to them for less than it cost to deliver a sales report. They lost what little reason and inclination they might have had to use a messenger service like the ones for which I worked.

Some bike messengers became “hybrids”: They combined food delivery with ferrying documents and small packages to offices. Those couriers, however, found that delivering food ordered on Door Dash or Grub Hub was taking more of their work day. Some quit because orders placed  on apps paid less than their old messenger companies; others didn’t or couldn’t (or didn’t want to) become part of the new wave of delivery workers who ride eBikes or mopeds.