You're Home! You're Home!

I have sat here in the garage peacefully waiting. And waiting.

(If you didn’t see the story "Bikes Having Feelings Too" you should read that first. That explains my wait.) 

I do not fully understand time, nor do I hear anyone does in. But when my friends left without me they took all means for me to judge the relativity of the time. Since then I have been sitting here, leaning against an old dresser, the air slowly leaking from my tires as I sit and wait and the strings of time continue to pass by.   

But this is not about physics. 

This is a celebration of the return of my friends! Those bikes  and pump! All home! So much of our time is spent as we sit and wait for the door to open. So many times the humans simply walk right past us. They climb into those “other” machines and ride away. No wind in their face. Global warming be damned. 

Today we forget all that as they are home, the bikes, the pump, and the riders too! I am overcome with joy as I hear the door open! My bell rings with excitement! I know that now they have returned I have a chance to head out with their butt on my saddle and my pedals turning! There is nothing like that feeling when a hand brushes you on the handlebar, that pump attaches to your valve, and finally your wheels begin to turn, and you move towards the door!

I am to be ridden! The mud awaits! The exhilaration as the air rushes into my tires. The exhilaration of the air pressure as it is fine tuned to just the right setting. Perhaps 8 pounds per square Inch (PSI) for some fresh snow? Maybe 11.5 PSI if we are going dirt today? That PSI can always be adjusted. 

The simple joy of my wheels, full of air, two hands holding me tightly, the Garmin in place with the tires rotating below, pedals being turned in concentric circles. 

I really don’t care how long I sat here, by myself, leaning against that dresser, all by myself, as long as I am to be ridden again. That is my mission, that is what I live for. And now they are home, at last, and my chance to be ridden is back! 

It’s a good day.

A very good day! 

It's the Socks!

That have me worried.

One of the challenges we "top" riders face is the Peanut Gallery. Those riders who are, always, looking for something to knock you off your game. The group who never take a turn at the front. The ones who sit on your wheel and suck like there is no tomorrow. And that day was no exception, when, from the peanut gallery, I hear exclaimed with a bit of a giggle, much joy, and mostly desperation: "Hey! Sully! Nice socks! Are those Tri socks?!?!"

The Peanut Gallery (I’m debating even giving them the dignity of using capital letters) clearly was desperate. Desperate to lay a distraction upon our champion. They, the peanut gallery, were already far behind in green jersey points and on that day, the day of the “Tri Socks” chant many sprints lay before us, perhaps they sensed an opportunity on that warm, some would soon say hot, early summer day. The gallery, destined to sit, spin, and get it handed to them once again by your hero on yet another Saturday club ride. But, was it really so that our friend would be distracted just enough to allow a rider from the peanut Gallery to sneak past, to just inch a wheel in front of our champion, and finally capture just one sprint? Or was there more at play?

In the short time since those words were tossed over our lionheart like a bucket of cold water, the last 4 or 5 months or so, I have let this weigh upon my mind in the manner my beer gut weighs upon my power to weight ratio: heavenly, ahhh, heavily.

The socks. The “Tri Socks”. What is wrong with those socks? Was it really just a distraction for that day, to take our champion's mind away from the job at hand, the exercise to continue crushing the peanuts from the gallery and putting those points in the Green Jersey standings into his own pocket? Is there more at play here? Have I, for all these miles, worn the wrong sock? What if? WHAT IF?? (can you feel the tension?)

With the time passing since that day like the many miles passing beneath my wheels we have reached the point that we must dig right to the sole of this quandary. Just what is the right sock for the elite cyclist like us? What follows is a review I do with the spirit of service in my heart, so the next time each of us rolls up to the ride with our champion’s heart pounding, the Peanut Gallery will be unable to use the Tri Sock chant upon you, upon me, and you, my friend, and me, myself, will make those socks look good!

As we begin I want you to know that what you are about to see is graphic. I've worked hard to make the images, well, never mind. You've been warned.

The Tri/Ankle Sock

Ok. Maybe that chant was, after all, well deserved. Let’s move on.

The “Pro” Sock

It’s not getting any better is it?

The Taller Sock

It begins to make you understand why the cyclist shaves those legs doesn’t it? Ug.

The Beer!

Oh. Sorry. Not sure how that got in there.

The Wool Cold Foot (prevention)

That rises awful to a whole new level.

The Tall Sock

I think this is my new favorite. Not only does our cyclist make this sock look good, they match the bike and really do a nice job of tying the bike, the cyclist, and the shoe together, don’t you think?

I've mentioned before that Cyclists Have Issues. In that story is was coffee. This time it is socks. More specifically, the appropriate sock for the cyclist. This angst driven feeling driven home that early summer day in 2015. Sock choice. I’ve had many miles to consider this affront since that day. What do we do? I mean really, look at those legs.  Isn’t it enough we wear lycra? That we wear colorful jersey’s that show just what great champions we are? Should we have to worry too about our socks?

Have I gotten the sock wrong all these miles? All these years? Through all these championships? I think back to that day the Cyclist Appeared and created the garage sale panic. Could THAT incident have been prevented with the right sock choice?  

And now I have the winter to ponder the sock. I’m curious for your thoughts. What IS the right sock?

Next time we’ll talk about the length of the bike short and how it ties into the sock choice. Sorry.

Moi Aussi!

Me Too! 

By now you are overly familiar with J. Sully (me) taking matters into his (my) hands to ensure J. Sully gets The Call for the 2015 Le Tour. If you’re not, besides being lucky, you can jump over here and understand what Le Call means. It is true that your time spent reading The Call will be 2 minutes and 30 seconds you’ll never get back, ever, but it is well worth it to put “Me Too!” (this story) into better context. ("Better" maybe to strong an adjective, anyway...) 

Le Tour. What’s it take to get The Call? Here’s what it takes: 

Cancellara warns of attack on the Tour De France Cobbles. 

Well guess what? Your hero, J. Sully will be on those same Cobbles that same day, and I too am going to attack! I (Sully) is going to attack like it is no one's business! All those other Tour Fans on our tour of the Le Tour are going to get attacked as J. Sully, like you see him do on Saturday’s at Stop Ahead Sprints, is going to go off the front, put the hammer down, pedal like there is no tomorrow, and dominate the tour, but not Le Tour! 

All towards getting THE CALL in June 2015! 

Yes! Moi aussi Fabian! Me too! 

Moi Aussi is Part 3 of the ongoing series of J. Sully making 1 last run at riding Le Tour!

Part 1: Le Call

Part 2: Le Weight

Le Weight!

In my last narrative we talked about The Call. A story of a “young man’s” (mine) dream of getting The Call to rush to France to fill out a Le Tour team that is in (very) desperate need of just 1 more rider to guide them through 21 stages of the greatest athletic event yet invented.

You should probably read that previous narrative first.

Thanks for coming back!

Why is it that J. Sully (me) has not gotten The Call? As we think back to the last story, which I’ve already mentioned you should have already read, you know I’m off to France, Belgium, even Luxembourg to take matters into my own hands. If THE CALL will not come to me, I am going to go find THE CALL. On this mission my goal is to ensure that THE CALL comes in 2015!

Today my friends, we have uncovered the first piece of Le Puzzle: Why has THE CALL not already arrived?

Le Weight!  

“What???”, you now find yourself thinking, “what has weight got to do with this?”

Well, let me tell you I am not only off to Le Tour (the cool kids say it that way, maybe) to hunt down THE CALL but I am following the media following Le Tour and I am studying just what it takes to receive THE CALL!

Flash back, if you will, to the 2013 Tour De France, the champion was a young man named Chris Froome, 6 Feet and 1 inch/1.86942984 meters tall and 157 pounds/71 kg in weight. Fast forward to now and in some people’s eyes Chris is not the favorite to repeat this championship effort in 2014 after his “collapse” in the Critérium du Dauphiné in early June. Mr. Froome fell from the Yellow Jersey to 12th overall in the 2014 edition of the Critérium du Dauphiné but still managed to come home as the winner of the Green Jersey.

(Sully, have you got a point to this story? Yes, I do. Hang on.)

In my eyes he, Mr. Chris Froome, remains the favorite for this year’s Tour De France (Americans say it like this), despite this collapse.

Why?

Here is why:

From this story at bicyling.com Mr. Froome is asked:

What is your plan between now and the start of the Tour de France?

And Chris answers:

We’re going to train in the Alps or we may do a little bit of recon in the Pyrenees. I’ve still got a bit of weight to lose before the Tour, maybe a kilo.

Read it again…

A Kilo.** A single, solitary, individual KILO!

Think back to The Call.

Can you see it? I can.

A kilo: 2.20462 US Pounds, 0.157473 Stone, 35.274 Ounces!

THE CALL is but 1 kilo from my grasp! I feel it. A trip to France. Cobbles, mountains, (some) wine and:

In 2015... In the midst of June... The phone will ring:

J. Sully: "Bonjour!, Bonjour!!!”

Heavily accented unknown caller, bored: "Is this J. Sully, of Stillwater MN, USA?"

J. Sully, now breathless and heart racing: "Yes! Yes it is!!! I AM J. SULLY!"  

Heavily accented unknown caller: “Thank you for taking my call Jay. Would you like to take 15 minutes to cut your insurance bill? "

Jump back to Part 1: Le Call
Jump ahead to Part 3: Mau Aussi 

**While it is true Mr. Froome mentioned the Alps, here in Minnesota we have not just Pawnee but also Chilkoot. I’m good on the climbing part. Right??

Le Call

It is la** time of the year when all over the internet you see nothing but stories of the world’s great cycling teams announcing their lineups for Le Tour. There is much talk of who can beat last years champion Mr. Froome. Everyone wonders if A. Contador will eat tainted Spanish beef. 

But, more importantly, it is the time of the year when J. Sully (me) waits for le CALL!

For those of you who follow the trials and tribulations of J. Sully (e.g. drop me), you know that for years, our hero, J. Sully (me) has been waiting for “The Call”. If you follow cycling and the race of the year, le Tour (the cool kids say it that way, maybe) you are familiar with “The Look” given from the “greatest” (in a physically/doped sense, not morally) rider in le Tour history to another infamous former “Champion” of what I consider one of the greatest athletic challenges of all time. (relive The Look, it really is amazing: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MdMdJAdzpYQ at about 21 seconds), 

Yes, I’m still talking about the le Tour - where men wear tights and ride up the sides of mountains at a pace unimaginable to most. 

Le Call, in my mind, would be of the magnitude of Le Look!

The Call goes “something” like this:

J. Sully: “Hello?”

Unknown voice with accent, slightly harried: “Bonjour! Is this J. Sully?”

J. Sully: “Yes, Bonjour. Who is this?”

Unknown voice with accent, with slight relief in voice: “So wonderful to track you down. We need you! Le Tour begins in just a few days. Our lead out train is now short 1 man. Can you come?”

J. Sully: “Well, I do have work. And a bike club who depends on me on Saturdays.”

Unknown voice with accent: “But we need you. A 30 day contract. All the EPO you can use. Can you come?”

J. Sully, slightly hesitant: “Well, my French is not very good… and, as I said, my club, what about my club? I mean, the Coffee Ride...”

Unknown voice with accent cutting me off: “My friend! Jerseys! Bibs! Skin suits!! And an aero helmet too! We need you!”

In my (small) mind, for years now, I've dreamt of this call coming. As my years on this planet increase along with my cholesterol, my time to be called is shortening. Soon I will be as old as the riders in le Chilkoot Cycling Club who drop me every Saturday, and at that age, who's gonna call? I mean, besides the American Association of Retired Folks or whatever they're called.

So now is the time! Action is required! I am taking matters into my own hands! I am bringing the bike and bibs to them! If the mountains will not come to me, I will head to the mountains.

My friends I am off to Europe to show the world that NOW is the time for The Call. I will follow le Tour! I will ride the cobbles! I shall ride the mountains on Bastille Day! I shall be dropped by those from other lands! And I will send updates! (Um, sorry.)

In 2015... In the midst of June... The phone will ring:

J. Sully: "Hello, Bonjour!"

Heavily accented unknown caller, slightly bored: "Is this J. Sully? The J. Sully?"

J. Sully, now breathless: "Yes! Yes it is!!!"  

Heavily accented unknown caller: “Ah! We've found you. Would you care to cut your interest rate in HALF on your Visa?"

(jump to part 2 of this adventure)

(ps - I’ll put all the pics & video of my mission up elsewhere and try not to fill up chat. It’s bad enough having to watch me climb trying to catch you as you (thankfully) wait for me. I won’t force more of the same (looking, not waiting)!

** "Clever" use of French: https://translate.google.com/#fr/en/la