La Vida Wanker

La Vida Wanker

Thursday, September 30, 2010

Fall Fling 2010

A year wiser?

One year ago, I penned my "famous" first foray into blogging. And in a single sentence, my style was captured: “The Fall Fling is maybe a brownie that was left over from last weekend’s party and is now a bit stale and hard with some random powdered sugar sprinkled on top.”

Instantly, my readers knew: I’m an idiot who’s obsessed with food and writes pretentiously with grand ambitious analogies that can be reduced to meaningless jibber. (Like this sentence.)

Well readers, little has changed—I’m still your favorite fat idiot. Except a year has passed. So while today marks 365 days since my first blog post, it also marks a year since my first full foray into the Fall Fling.

A year heavier!

Several pounds heavier and a category “better,” I entered this year’s Fall Fling with low expectations. Primarily, I was there to support the IsCorp juniors—Peter Davis, Kevin Lindlau and Kaleb Koch—and the new Northwestern cyclists.

Invariably, George Hincapie decided to rain on our parade. Not only did several of the NU kids fail to show (with legitimate excuses, of course), but the juniorfolk arrived with less than 20 minutes to spare.

As I rushed around doing nothing in particular, I realized my brakes were not functioning. Eventually, I found my worn down brake-pads were to blame—the shoes were gouging wonderfully circular cuts into my carbon wheels.

Thankfully, GH and I have a close relationship (after all, his brother makes my kits). In times of cycling crisis, I prevail. So the mechanical turned out to be no problem at all. I just raced without brake pads, right T-Peng?

Known Unknowns and Unknown Unknowns

As we lined up, the IsCorp super junior squad and I outlined our strategy: I would try to break away, Kevin and Petey would attack and try to control the field, and we’d lead Kaleb out in the event of a field sprint.

While things began predictably unpredictable, they took a turn for the unpredictably unpredictable when Petey snapped his chain. Thankfully, ABR has the unlimited free lap rule and he was able to find a similar size bike to race—which he did, and race the heck out of.

As Petey rejoined the pack, we realized a Kenda rider was in attendance. Things suddenly got more confusing. As is always the case, every rider in the field followed the one pro guy around expecting him to do all of the work. It didn't matter that there were around 100 other guys in the race. So long as there is one pro, nobody is required to do any pulling.

So when the break went and Mr.Kenda didn’t chase, the break was gone.

Naturally, when I’m supposed to be coaching the juniors, I make the biggest mistakes. As I began to patrol the front following great pulls by Petey and Kevin, I hesitated. Restarting the lead-out from the final corner, I swung right and was trapped between the curb and another rider. Naturally, there was nothing to be done. Kaleb had to go the long way around and was unable to win the field sprint. Good job, coach!

Finally, the TT

Sunday brought its own surprises. With the failure of my SRM to work and my front wheel still flat from the ABR TTT, I was hesitant to race. Naturally, TTs are my strength for when equipment matters more than talent, I find success. Sadly, my equipment was not up to par.

And after having to move and park three separate times, I managed to get on the bike with just enough time to get nice and cool before my start. Regardless, I still threw down a somewhat respectable time.

In comparison, the juniors all rode great races. Kevin blasted through the course and Petey rode very well on his road bike.

One weekend down. One more to go. Watch out world—Kaleb returns. And this time without an idiot lead-out.

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

Upcoming Papp Interview

Laptop on legs, he sits on his bed—his flabby form contained by nothing but well-worn tighty whities. Surrounding him, spilled coke mixes with Cheetos crumbs

In other words, it’s just another night for just another blogger.

Breaking the silence, his inbox suddenly reads: One New Message. And just like that, he has a real story. He has a lead.

And assuming the blogger can actually write coherent sentences, this single email transforms him from overweight deadbeat into dignified journalist.

Well folks, I don’t drink pop, and I rarely eat Cheetos. Also and rather unexpectedly, I don’t think tighty whities look too bad on me. (Just ask Axie, Will or Ian.)

But my inbox does read 1025 new messages...

Anyway, on the urging of a Mr. Mark French, I contacted Joe Papp about an interview. Mr. Papp has agreed to speak with me. The focus of our discussion will be doping and junior/u23 racing.

This—the junior/u23 racing—will be a Pro Wanker exclusive interview. Yep, the pink and white has just made the bigs. (hahaha. Yeah right!)

As part of the interview, I would like to take questions from my readers for Mr. Papp. So readers, feel free to post your question in the comment section of this post or email them to me: scottrosenfield AT mac dot com



Monday, September 20, 2010

Bright Lights, Big City

For years, the same faces have won the same races. There has been little suspense. The winner always comes from a small pool of people. For the US Pro TT, he is DZ. For the RR, there is no victor other than Hincapie, Hamilton, Leipheimer or Fast Freddy.

While Hincapie and company were once young, promising talents, they are no longer. Their best years are behind them. Tour or Roubaix glory becomes more and more unlikely with each passing dope-tainted year.

A look at this year’s Tour de France appears to be a confirmation. American riders were announced as potential winners, yet they failed to deliver. And as a rule, they were part of the old guard.

And for a time, it seemed like little would disrupt the state of affairs. While the Pharmstrong boys may not be speeding up, they are still fast enough. Who would challenge their reign?

The first shadow of insurrection appeared at the Criterium du Dauphine. A then unknown American from HTC managed to ride within himself and contain the attacks of Contador in route to a third place. Despite his foreign name, Tejay Van Garderen was soon an American cycling idol.

Next, larger cracks appeared at the Tour of Utah. In the form of Taylor Phinney, Levi was defeated in the TT. Yes, Phinney had a skinsuit and Levi did not. And yes, differences between skinsuits can amount for more than a handful of seconds. So compared to a jersey and bibs, the gains are enormous. But the boy still won.

And in the climbing stages, Ian Boswell surprised. Climbing like few other riders his age, he managed to stay with the big guns on the hardest stages.

Even more impressive, 2010 l’Abitibi winner Lachlan Morton riding for Holowesko Partners (Garmin’s junior racing team) managed several respectable placings on the intense climbing and TT stages.

In Spain, Van Garderen later followed through on his Dauphine promise. While he eventually fell out of the top 15, he fought valiantly and was within striking distance of the top ten for most of the race.

But compared to this weekend, the results in Spain and Utah were nothing but blips. In two days of racing, the old guard has been destroyed.

Again, the defining shot came from the young Phinney. Narrowly defeating Leipheimer, he posted a time over a minute faster than the third place finisher in the USPRO TT.

A day later, Ben King rode to one of the most impressive results in years. Going on an audacious breakaway and then attacking the group on the Paris Mountain climb, King soloed to the win.

Some will say the wins of King and Phinney are tainted. Riding for Trek—Livestrong, they are assumed to be recipients of the RadioShack doping program. However, we can hope they are not. The results of King and Phinney have followed a linear path. From their youth, they have excelled.

Rather than with doubt or anxiety, the results of this weekend should be welcomed. On their own roads in their favorite races, the old guard has been defeated. Ready or not, American cycling is entering a new era.

For one, I hope it to be a cleaner, more competitive and entertaining one.

Wednesday, September 15, 2010


Hopefully, this post will be read. Likely, it will languish on the interwebs unnoticed and lonely. In the off chance that you are a real human and read this post to its conclusion, I'm interested in your opinion and feedback. Disagree with me? Think I'm a misguided? Let me know in the comments section. And please, make your comments anonymous.


I’ve largely kept my head out of the doping game. Yeah, Pharmstrong jokes are easy to make, but I like to leave the accusations to the forums. Reputations are too important to impugn on heresy and Internet innuendo. However, the recent posts regarding an impending drug bust have aroused my interest.

The calculus involved in doping must be complicated. As one contemplates injecting himself with the product, he likely weighs the health risks, expected performance gains, monetary costs and odds of getting caught. Some might not even pause, but I’d like to think most do.

For the pros, the decision likely becomes a monetary one. And as is so often the case, greed rules the day. For the master cyclist, I’m not so sure what the thought process is. Perhaps ego is the motivating factor. Maybe it’s fear—of aging and finally slowing down.


Regardless of my rambling, it looks like USADA is acting on the confession of former pro cyclist doper turned pusher, Joe Papp. In coming months, expect a number of pro, elite, and masters cyclists to be busted for doping on behalf of Papp’s testimony.

(Papp is highly active on the forums in the Clinic section. He also posts regularly to Twitter.)

Papp himself has an interesting story. In 2007, he was suspended for using synthetic testosterone at the 2006 Tour of Turkey where he won several stages. At the famed Landis hearings, he provided testimony regarding the benefits of testosterone for cyclists.

Explaining why he testified a the Landis hearing, Papp said, “By testifying here outside of clear conscience, and helping next generation of riders see that they have a choice. I don’t gain anything and I lose a lot.”

In reality, it appears Papp’s motives were not completely pure. Earlier this year, he pleaded guilty to “conspiracy to distribute performance enhancing drugs” while he was offering information against other athletes suspected of drug use, according to Cyclingnews.

As he claimed to be helping to rid cycling of dopers, Papp was actually providing riders with drugs—something few articles explicitly mention. They ignore the timeline, making Papp a hero. The reality is gray. Like with all men, the truth goes beyond hero or villain.

One Race, Two Wins

But the Papp story gets even more complicated. And it takes another turn for the confusing with the lifetime ban from cycling semi-local hero/villain Duane Dickey recently received.

On, an anonymous poster with the handle "VeloDoc (Project 5)" writes “sucks when it happens to a genuinely nice guy.” All over the Internet, praise is heaped on Dickey. His doping conviction is ignored, rationalized, or dismissed with the anonymous clicking of keys.

I cannot comment on Dickey’s innocence or guilt. USADA claims he possessed and used EPO, possibly supplied by Papp. Additionally, he refused a sample collection. If USADA cannot be believed, then all sports—not just cycling—has an issue. So for the sake of this article, I will assume USADA’s claims have merit.

(And I realize the issues that this assumption brings.)

What is most disturbing about this case is the phraseology of "VeloDoc." “When it happens” implies Dickey was forcefully injected with EPO. That doesn’t seem to be the case. Dickey, like the rest of us, has free will. He chose to posses and take EPO.

And this statement is about more than Dickey.

On Free Will

Perhaps USADA is totally wrong. Maybe this is all one big mistake. Regardless of that, doping is a choice. And if Tyler Hamilton taught us anything, it’s that being a nice guy has nothing to do with doping.

Heck, if’s Clinic forum is to be believed, Hamilton’s wife arranged the doping logistics and then may have had a fling with Lance. But hey, that’s’s Clinic forum. So Tugboat, I’m sorry if the above turns out true.

(Sorry, I'm not providing the link to that one.)

Who Will Be Busted Next?

To return to the Papp situation, one should doubt his testimony. If history is any guide, he is an opportunist. However, his evidence should not be disregarded if it can be corroborated. I, for one, hope it isn’t. Likely though, it has been. And it appears to have great relevance on American racing.

Tweeting about the 2010 Tour of Utah, Papp wrote that McCarty had earned a 5th place. On the stage, he had actually finished sixth. Ahead of him were Levi Leipheimer, Francisco Mancebo, Ian Boswell, Darren Lill and Phil Zajicek. Papp’s Tweet (screw you NYT, I’ll use Tweet as a word) implies one rider who finished ahead of McCarty was a doper.

Again on’s Clinic forum, Papp points toward Zajicek and Lill as the likely dopers. According to speculative posts by other members, Leipheimer and Mancebo are assumed to be part of more sophisticated doping programs. Ian Boswell is assumed to be too young to dope. Lill then becomes a suspect, but is ruled out based on the timeline of Papp's pushing. This leaves Zajicek, who is claimed to have been busted at the “Tour of Qinghai(?) [sic] when he took a legal decongestant (not on the banned list) which metabolizes in the body into an illegal substance that was detected in a test,” poster “Rupert” wrote.

Again, the above is pure speculation by a potential random Internet waco. However, the claims on the forums have often been substantiated. And Papp’s commentary seems to support the above quotation.

Let History Be Your Guide, Lemmiwinks

The year is 1998 and the Tour de France is in shambles. The discovery of doping products in a Festina team car leads to the reopening of an investigation into the TVM team. Before the Tour is over, the existence of a systematic network of doping is revealed.

In one race, the veneer of plausible deniability is shattered.

The year is now 2010—12 years since the Festina scandal. And cycling is still plagued by the dopage. But is seems that the basic issues still remain. Dopers, when caught, deny and fail to implicate the networks. The anti-doping organizations are not trusted. Fans believe in cover-ups and some of their fears appear to be founded.

Meanwhile, bloggers write about theoretical limits on performance (FTP must be less than 6.2 watts/kg, for example). Yet their numbers are flawed. They fail to take into account the climatic conditions and weight difference for each rider. (According to Andrew Coggan and others.) In one swoop, an entire cadre of riders is assumed guilty. Perhaps some are clean?

Tolerance Camp

There is no easy way out of this quagmire. And if I knew the answers, I sure as heck wouldn’t be blogging about them. But some things clearly have to change in cycling. That much I can say.

For starters, dopers must be stigmatized in the style of The Scarlet Letter. The attitude toward them cannot be “oh, he’s a nice guy.” Frankly, it doesn’t matter if he’s the nicest guy in the world. He’s a doper. Ergo, he’s a cheat. Cheats don’t deserve respect or inclusion. Look what baseball did to Pete Rose after what he did to the sport’s integrity.

(Please, don’t get into the whole baseball doping thing. I’m speaking only of this case. And don’t bring up his one night back into the field. That was a poor decision.)

USADA/WADA must have credibility. When another Landis gets busted, there can be no question to the integrity of the system or the tests. A doping positive must be difficult to dispute. The organizations must be impartial and trustworthy.

USADA/WADA must have some accountability. At the CAS, athletes should be able to dispute cases and actually win—if their arguments merit victory. As much as every cheater should be caught, nobody should be falsely banned. So this means no more leaks to the L’Equipe.

Catching dopers must go beyond urine and blood tests. Clearly, they are easy to defeat. Informants should be used. And doping cases should be investigated by the police whenever and wherever possible.

The networks must be taken down. Behind every doper, there is a pusher. The people who supply the drugs must be found and stopped.

I’m no fool. (Well, I actually am.) I know my recommendations will not be easy to implement. In fact, they may be impossible to achieve. But as more doping cases are announced, the future should be on our minds. Our actions should be guided by our vision and values, not retribution, fanaticism or revenge.

Tuesday, September 14, 2010

Little Red Nightgown

Pro Wanker Kits
Reader, the deposit has been placed. The proofs have been sent in. And the Pro Wanker kits are being approved by Champion System as I type! Expect to see the final and gorgeous design in two weeks. If interest is high enough, I’ll leak some spy shots before then. Anyway, expect to be filling out order forms in about 2.5 weeks.

The ABR Tour de France (Fall Fling)

It's that time of year again. (No, Scott hasn't been hospitalized for gorging himself on butter...hibernation listed as the excuse.) Fall is here. Yeah, the cold sucks. And school is back in session. (Not for me, suckers!) But ABR is putting on their best weekend(s) of racing.

Distributed over two weeks to allow for recovery, the Fall Fling has two circuit r
aces, a crit and a short TT. I highly recommend you come out and race. The Northwestern Cycling Team will be there. And so will I. What more could anyone want? If you're a collegiate racer or junior folk and need lodging, hit me up.

Sadly, the first weekend falls over collegiate track nationals. So I may only be racing the final weekend. Decisions. Decisions...

Tour de Donut

It is with great regret that I must miss the Tour de Donut. As I wrote and say on a daily basis, the race sounds genius. Sadly, it falls on Yom Kippur. For all of you heathens out there, I will be fasting that day and praying for my atonement. That makes eating donuts a but difficult. However, I exhort all of you other wankers out there to go!

Star Sight, Star Bright

I was out driving instead of training. As I motored through Ft. Sheridan, I noticed a gaunt figure in Kona kit. On a whim, I pulled up besides him and started a conversation. It turns out he's Barry Wicks, and he lives in Evanston. He's a pro CXer. Hopefully, he'll hook up with Northwestern Cycling for a few rides sometime soon.

My Milkshake...

Monday, September 13, 2010

Small Stones

This Year's ABR TTT did not go according to plan. 60 k TTTs require luck—something we had none of. Regardless, I will be back next year.
The Start

To shift down, first shift up. In fact, shift up twice. Then shift down once.

No, this isn’t retreating to move forward. And no, you don’t end up where you started.

This is riding my TT bike—one without basebars, skewers or fully functioning brakes—at 35 mph with a screaming tail wind while only inches away from three other riders.

And at these speeds, time reveals its fluidity. Minutes seem to drag on for hours only to snap and disappear with the speed of seconds. On a good day, your body begins to pedal to a beat. Every action and movement goes according to script. It's part of the TTT time bending magic.

And things were musically magical. We were cruising in the low 30s after the first turnaround. Rounding the s-bend, we hit the long crosswind stretch before the final turnaround. Our echelon was perfect. We were down a man, but riding possessed. Victory was within grasp. We were pedaling to a beat.

My Story

A pebble stares at me. It’s round. Maybe the size of a acorn. It poses no harm. It’s perfectly smooth. In the face of this feeble "danger," I do not veer from my path.

I have minutes to change course. But this pebble can do no harm. Without doubt, the impact is devastating. Releasing all 120 psi in a second’s time, the tire deflates. A perfectly round body has slashed my sidewalls.

A pebble has ruined my day. A pebble has ruined our race.

The Build

The wind blows a warm breeze. Looking out from my six foot three window, I see acre upon acre of corn. The plants ripple in the wind.

But I stand still. I am besides the road. Somehow, the bike's top tube is supporting my impressive weight. I rest and wish I had brought with me some water on this too warm day.

Reeven rides past. I exhort him on. Another team goes by.

Finally, Lowell appears. I raise an arm, signifying my front flat. As Mr. Koch runs out of the car, I yell for my Y-tool. My super duper aero skewers take minutes to remove.

The Chase

Back on the road, I settle into a fast rhythm. For seconds that last minutes, I dream of catching the team, taking a long pull and propelling us to victory. But this does not happen. Unlike Lance, I don't believe in miracles

Up the Road

The remaining three power on. As they hit the tracks, their speed suggests a time capable of winning the race. Despite my flat and them needing to wait for Reeven to latch back on, they’re flying.

And then Kyle hits something. Out goes his tire. So he slowly rolls in.

The Finish

At the car, we trade frowns. Naturally, I curse Hincapie. Brach claims the name of our team is to blame. (We registered as IsCorp/Pro Wanker.) Someone else blames the team Canadian.

I stick by my guns: The Hincapie giveth, the Hincapie taketh away.

The Other Guys

Thankfully, the IsCorp juniors pull through. As has become habit, they dominated the junior event with a blistering time of 1:20 for something around 60 k. (It is ABR, afterall. Don't expect exact distances.)

(Pictured from left to right: Petey Davis, Garrett Roth, Kaleb Kock and Kevin Lindlau)

The Real Story

For once, the above is true—mostly. Regardless, I must praise this event. The prize-list may be small. But honestly, few of us race for the cash. It's about the fun. And the stupid. And ABR has both of those bases covered.

So if you're free next fall and want to suport what bike racing should feel—if not be—like, come out and race the ABR 60 K TTT.


Friday, September 10, 2010


Note: If you know how to add captions to photos, please let me know. Also, I'll be revealing the Pro Wanker kit design this week. And finally, some Gateway Videos will be posted this week. Stay posted, Wankers.
I’ve slept in an assortment of odd places—on a shelf, in a closet, in a bed with two other guys, in a bed with two guys and a girl, and on many a floor. (Heaven praise the collegiate season.)

However, I’ve never slept in a place quite as seedy as the Day’s Inn off of Lindberg Blvd, STL.

Imagine for you a moment you’re a pedophile. In looking for a hotel, you’d want to keep your drugged and kidnapped child somewhat amused. (You don't want him calling the cops, do you?) So a kid-friendly pool would be nice. And so would be a jungle gym. You’d also want your privacy. So the place would be easily accessed without arousing suspicion.

Well, pedophiles, the Day’s Inn Lindberg, STL has all the above and more!

Easy entry? With no external doors—check! Child amusement? With a full size pool and arcade—check! Privacy? With soundproof cinder block walls—check!

Thankfully, I’m over 18 and no pedophile. So while the Day’s Inn may be many a boy’s night
mare, it was just another motel for me.

But was the Gateway Cup just another weekend of racing?

As has been repeatedly said, bike racing’s beauty lies in the carnival. From
the staying in shitty motels to the pinning of race numbers and kisses from overweight "podium" girls, bike racing is about the process, the carnival.

As a member of IsCorp, I’m thankful to be part of the wildest carnival around. Between Tom Petty (JoKo), our resident Canadian (Josh G), Jesus (Jon Cook), the Brach (Brian Rach) and Weisenhoofen, something stupid is always going on. And when you throw me and a team junior in the mix. Well, heaven save us.

But beyond the regulars, Gateway was great. Seeing the Aussies is always solid. Despite the fact Owen has yet to return my final pair of Pro Wanker booties, I can’t help but love him. And Wez—he’s always a pleasure to see.

Mainly though, this weekend was made wonderful by our resident Hill Billy, Colton Barrett. Need more be said?

Ok, it wasn't all that great. The final
crit course had upward of a thousand turns—and many of them were right turns, the most difficult for me. And Sunday's course had an uphill tailwind section. And heaven knows I hate uphill headwinds. But really, since when have I gone to a bike race to actually race my bike?

Mainly, it’s still hard to believe summer has reached its inevitable end. But as a member of a slowly and painfully dying profession (journalism, wankers), it is nice to see something go out with a bang, rather than a whimper.

So summer—it was great knowing you. And Gateway—you were a great way to end the season.

Tuesday, September 7, 2010

Paving Old Roads

Note: The following is a recap from the State TT. A Gateway post is soon in coming. Hold on—its got video.

You’re sweating and wearing nothing but spandex. Suddenly, two big black arms grab you. Without speaking, a burly man escorts you behind stage. He takes you to the bathroom and grunts. As you go to close the door, he enters. And as you begin to fill the vial, you are instructed to turn around. Slowly, he begins to hum out a melancholy tune.

The year was 2006 and the scene was Seven Springs, PA. And despite the situation, I was smiling.

Earlier that day, I had been one of the last men off in the time trial. And when I crossed the line, the announcer was yelling my name triumphantly. I was sixth, he said. Quickly, I did the math. With only a handful of riders to start after me, I was assured a top ten result—at the Nationals TT.

Despite my ecstasy, I needed verification. So my mom went to check the results. As she returned, her face told all. I had not finished sixth. I was nowhere near the top ten.

Since that day, my relationship with time has been fundamentally altered. I no longer trust the clock.

But I still race to its ticking.

And the IL State TT was no exception. For the last two months, my goal was singular: Train to win the state title. Threshold intervals, aero tweaking, and dieting (haha, just kidding on that one) became the habit of my existence. I was dropped in crits, missed group rides and spent hours taping and working on my bike. It was all in the name of the clock.

And for several minutes this weekend, it looked as if all my efforts had not been in vain. Doug and Kaleb were following me in the Nazi-wagon. Through the windows they yelled out of megaphones and played into vuvuzelas. By the tone of their mingling voices, it was clear I was hauling.

And I was. At 20 K, the clock read something near 25:20.

For a brief few seconds, I was intoxicated with the moment. Every race ever won, every victory ever lost and every right turn ever botched gained meaning. It all was part of the plan.

But with the same inevitably of 2006, time told a different story. Suddenly, there was a hill on course. And the tailwind home section became a headwind. And the 30 k long course became 33.3 k.

Within sight of the finish, my four minute man dangled ahead of me. While I passed him, the rate of my approach was maddeningly slow. So I crossed the line—tears mingling with sweat.

And so we left without waiting for my time. I didn’t need to stay to consult the clock. At a later hour, the results would reveal the truth. Kaleb had won his race with a blitzing time.

And Scott. Well, he was second to a Mr. Bryce Mead.

Wednesday, September 1, 2010

Another Pre-Post Race Update

Kaleb is Fast

While my grammar is lacking, and my vocabulary decreases with each college “recreational” activity I partake in, I still have some standards. So papers that begin with “Merriam-Webster defines creative as ‘relating to or involving the creation of original ideas’” still make me cringe.

In advance, I apologize for the next few sentences. I realize they are no better than the above quoted. Anyway, here it goes: They say a picture is worth a thousand words. So if a video is shot at 30 fps (frames per second) and lasts around 16 seconds... you do the math. And by math, I mean click on the video of me cheering on as Kaleb Koch makes good on a terrific leadout from teammate Petey Davis and wins the Dixon 3/4 race.
Stupid is What Stupid Does

Most people are dumb. Some people are exceptionally stupid. Case in point:
man goes looking for ghost train and is killed by the real thing. No joke.

Oops. I guess not.

ABR-FIAC Grand National Four Man Team Time Trial

I love wanker races—ones with skewed payouts or crazy terrain. Think Wank the Lake or Great Egyptian Omnium. One of the biggest wanker races of all is the ABR Four Man Team Time Trial.

There was a time when team trials were respected and considered prestigious. But to coincide with my existence, they were made irrelevant by the UCI, IOC... The discipline is now shunned—occasionally included in the Tour but mostly mocked in the Vuelta. Essentially, we’re left with the ABR National World FIAC Championship. And I’m looking for a team. So if you're interested in winning and wanking it up, hit me up.

Death of Summer

The approach of school makes me sad. Yes, I love the NU Cycling Team and think the MWCCC (CCCCCCCp) is the greatest thing ever. But still, I’ll miss summer. I’ll miss weekends that last long into night. I’ll miss the racers. Heck, I may even miss some of the races. But let’s be honest: I’ll mostly miss the warm weather. Winter sucks.