emptyage

Golden Gate Trails Loop

You can see where satellite reception was bad in some spots, but this was created with my iPhone and TrailGuru. It's not there yet, but it's getting closer. If I could track heart rate (preferably R to R), I'd be ready to make the leap to iPhone-only as my main casual training device. I'd still want something beefier on race day and competitive training but for day to day training it's starting to show promise.

Dream-cycle

It's no secret I'm a big fan of LOOK bikes. But the new limited edition (50!) 586 has got to be one of the nicest machines I've ever seen.

This year LOOK is introducing only fifty, built to order LOOK 586 Mondrian Limited Edition frames. Each will be numbered and will come with a signed certificate of authenticity from Look President, Dominique Bergin. This will be in commemoration of the 1986 Tour de France, this frame represents the soul of LOOK Cycles, harking back to the heritage that brought our brand to fame. This “nouveau retro” frame will become an instant collector’s item.

Frameset only: $4499
With the 586, LOOK offers a single-shell frame with flowing and elegant lines. A pioneer in the technology of single-shell carbon frames, LOOK has always featured innovative design and technology.

Torched! Or: How I Saw The Torch A Whole Bunch Of Times Even Though Gavin Newsom Told Me Not To Look

The Chronicle has an editorial criticizing the torch switcheroo:
Run ... for cover / Torch relay turns into keep-away game.

Everyone who turned out should feel cheated. Along the Embarcadero route, Beijing's backers and the groups opposed to China's policies in Tibet, Burma and Darfur didn't get a glimpse of the flaming torch. Casual observers who wanted to take in the torch's only North American stop were likewise left out. In effect, the event was canceled.

This was San Francisco's chance to show how it respects and handles vigorous political dissent. It is also the hub of a region with great pride in its Olympic alliances. Thousands gathered to see the torch and express their passions, positive and negative, about the upcoming Games. Regrettably, our city leaders chose to run away from them.

I agree with that, but I'm also realistic. I hadn't been sure if I was going to go, and the mayhem in London and Paris had left me leaning towards not. But at the last moment I thought to myself that I was about to miss an amazing spectacle, and figured I could stay out of trouble. Although I was busy, I thought I could take off at 11, and be back by 2:30. Besides, Harper was there. And so I changed out of my ironic-shirt-du-jour, jumped on my bike and headed down Market Street.

It was a gorgeous day in the city, and it felt like falling in love to ride through the middle of it at mid-day.

But when I got to Justin Herman Plaza, it was a circus. Harper and I (amazingly) found each other right away, and within minutes were approached/harassed by some Fox News clown with an agenda. We split, heading south towards the ballpark.

Years ago, when I was sad, I would go sit out on the Embarcadero at lunchtime all by myself and eat a burrito.

Today, there were thousands of emotional people with flags along the water. Thousands. I saw so many confrontations between pro and anti China groups and individuals that I find it hard to believe you could have run the torch up Embarcadero and not had very bad things happen. I was right there during The Bussing that's been cited repeatedly on the news. It actually was pretty alarming. One woman was trampled, several protesters were nearly run over, and then the crowd went apeshit on the vehicle.

This wasn't your average protest where you've got, say, 30,000 protesters who are against the war in Iraq and 2,000 cops who are against those protesters fucking too much shit up. There were two distinct and very pissed off sides (and I don't mean China vs. Tibet; there were all kinds of anti-China factions) and both were out in force. It would be a pretty reasonable assumption that something could go wrong.

And, plus, let's face it, it's San Francisco. You can't really predict it.

So they switched up the torch route, and left everyone guessing. The misdirection was fantastic. Was it on the water? Heading up 3rd Street? Taking the N Judah? All the sudden there was a rumor it was on Van Ness.

It was like a challenge. A game. Us vs The Olympics.

But we had bikes, and an "Eye in the Sky" (a friend was watching on teevee and updating via d messages on Twitter.) All they had was a plan. And so we were off, hauling ass through the city.

We caught up with the torch at Van Ness and Bay, we actually arrived at the intersection just moments ahead of it. The Eye confirmed the torch was on the way. Harper busted out her Tibetan flag. I got my camera. We had different priorities. I only saw one or two protesters there, definitely a lot more in the pro-China camp. And then it took a left on Bay.

We didn't follow, as it was a madhouse right behind the torch procession. I was thinking of heading back home. But then we decided to go for it again, and we were off, heading towards the helicopters.

We pedaled hard up the steep hill from the Warf into Fort Mason, and cut across over to catch it again as it rolled by Marina Green. There were several police and other law enforcement kinda boats heading towards Ft. Baker, and we thought maybe the torch was going to head under the bridge then get on a boat back to the Ferry Plaza--it's intended destination.

And we caught it again at Marina Green. This time it was under constant harassment from anti-China protesters. But the torch was fine. Nobody was doing anything to go after the torchbearers or to put it out. (I did yell at some punk kid to get off my lawn when he tossed a water ballon, but it looked incident-free) Not that it wasn't nuts. It was:

But it was peaceful nuts. And I was close. I got eyeball-to-eyeball with those creepy special agent secret service double super duper commandos-in-grandpa's-travelin'-clothes guys. I was actually eyeing the torch. I couldn't help it. "Could I grab that shit?" Yes, yes I could.

But I didn't. Nor did anyone else, and when the torch headed West, we pursued. I thought it was headed to Ft. Point. The gate. Some sort of watery exit. All that. But then rumors went around that it was headed to the bridge. So we beat it there.

Foiled again. We stood around for a while, getting bad intel from our Eye (thanks for nothing, Eye!) who eventually clued us in that the torch was headed to the airport. Then we got a text from the SF Team Tibet folks telling everyone to head to SFO.

And then we were besieged by the remaining media on the bridge. We were surprised to learn we'd seen more of the torch than they had. Harper was interviewed by a passel of journalists. She made the Chronicle, at least online.

And then it was really late in the day, so we left and rode home. We stopped and had a beer and Taytos on the way.

Look! Look!

This is a post for bike nerds.

I went to pick up my mail this evening and nearly snapped my neck because my eyes popped so hard when I saw the cover of the new issue of Bicycling, the 2008 Buyer's Guide issue. Seriously. Click that shit. It's beautiful.

Not only is the cover striking, but the bike grabbed my attention. It's the 2008 Look 586. I got a chance to ride it last Fall, and immediately started saving my pennies to buy one. It's the perfect tri-bike. You can order it with a reversible seat-post that sits in a timetrial/triathlon geometry in one direction, and a standard roadie setup in the other. It's crazy. Plus it's just a beautiful bike. Gorgeous to look at. And it's more of a lightweight then, er, let's go with a freshman in high school at his first kegger after donating blood earlier in the afternoon and having naught but, say, noodles to eat. Whatever, it's light. It's carbon. It's got a one-piece carbon fiber monobloc fork and it gives me hope. Hope, for a better tomorrow.

Oh, and it has an MSRP of $7,000. Just to throw that out there.

Now, I don't pay retail. And neither should you. Everything can be had for cheaper than that. But even with a good deal on it, this was still going to be a damn expensive bike. And I was prepared for that. This is, to me at least, the epitome of a credit card expense. I've got great credit (borne of an atrocity of a credit rating that would set cities on fire when I was in my 20s that led to a now-obsessive/compulsive relationship with my credit score). My credit card charges me about the same interest rate my car loan does, and I'll spend more time on the bike than in my car.

And yet then, last week, or was it two weeks ago? I forget. But recently, I spied an Oh-Seven Look 595 on sale at Pacific Bicycle here in San Francisco. It was a ridiculously good price, the kind of price that any man with a heroin hankering for carbon fiber and Dura Ace components would find impossible to pass by. You'd have to be a preacher, and I'm not a man of the cloth. And so, despite my long-standing bikeenvy for a 586, I found myself earlier today gingerly wiping grease spots off of the fork of my beautiful 595.

And then minutes later, I'm confronted with the bike I had long considered buying, on the cover of a magazine. Stunning. Lauded. The greatest Goddamned bike in the world. At least this year.

So do I have buyer's remorse? Did I look at it in much the same way Britney Spears does, when she, mired in the depths of her need for a taco and some Red Bull and love (can't you see all she really wants is love! nothing more than love!), leads the paparazzi on a chase through the dark stinking streets of suburban Los Angeles only to arrive at the QuickTrip to be confronted with Justin Timberlake's smiling face on the cover of some magazine (that doesn't, for the record, carry the word "Breakdown" prominently in bold yellow Arial somewhere next to his photo) and have to face the horrible revelation that you're lost? Lost in the fucking biggest city (so to speak) in the history of the world? You're in the dark in this city of light? God help me? Is that it? Is that how I felt? Is that how I feel?

No. No not at all. That's ridiculous.

I mean, look at my fucking bicycle. Just look at it.


Now that's a fucking bicycle.







Oh: And is it just me, or are those SpeedPlay pedals on that fancy new Look bike on the cover of Bicycling?

Bicycle!

Bicycle!

Hello, new bicycle

Bicycle, bicycle, bicycle, bicycle!

Remember when you were ten, and you woke up on Christmas morning, and there was a bicycle under the tree?

"Bicycle!" You said. "Bicycle! Bicycle! Bicycle! Bicycle! Biiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiicycle!"

That's still how I feel today. I went out today and rode my new bike on the trails at Golden Gate Park. I flew through them. Most I know from running. But I've never gone so fast on them before. And I felt like I was fucking good. I was moving, going fast, uphill. I bounced down hills with wooden steps set into them, and across rocks the size of railroad ties. I went head-over-the-handlebars, once, v e r y s l o w l y. I was riding what amounted to single track along a steep hillside along Fulton, heading towards the back side of the Conservatory, when I hit a fallen log hidden in deep grass and (then) over I went like the minute hand of a clock. It was mystifying to me, how I kept moving like that.

11Flip1

I'm already envisioning myself in Xterras. Flying.

2007 Felt Virtue Three

Hello, new bicycle, originally uploaded by Mat Honan.

I bought a 2007 Felt Virtue Three today. I've really wanted a full suspension mountain bike so I can ride with Harper, and also because I want to get into doing some Xterras next year. I had a chance to pick this one up at a great price, and I snapped it up. Looking forward to some different type of riding next year.

Speaking of which, I've got some of my 2008 tri-schedule sorted out. I'm sure I'll add more, and I might drop some as well. I certainly would like to add another Xterra, and perhaps even a full marathon. Wait a second. Who said that? Was that me? I guess it was. See you in the water.

February 3: Kaiser Half Marathon
March 30: XTerra Folsom Lake
May 4: Wildflower Olympic
June 8: Escape from Alcatraz
July 20: Vineman 70.3
August 3: Sandman Triathlon
August 10: Escape from The Rock

Oh, Schwinn

My old bike, originally uploaded by Mat Honan.

This is my bike, a Schwinn Sprint. My parents got it for me the summer in between sixth and seventh grade, and I rode it all the way through high school. When I was 13 or 14, my friend McDowell and I rode in The Tour for Cure (I still have the shirt!), a 75 mile bike ride from Montgomery to Selma, and then 75 miles back again the next day to raise money for MS. Like many kids, I was totes the bike junkie as a kid, but this is the one that made me a bike junkie as an adult. This is the bike that took me from rider to cyclist. I loved it; it must weigh 500 pounds.

Today the Sprint is in pretty sorry shape. I dug it out of my dad's utility shed and was appalled at the state it's in. The derailleur is bent and broken. You can't turn most of the bolts due to corrosion. And the entire frame is flecked in spots of rust.

But I still love it.

Yesterday, I spent the evening stripping what parts I could from the bike. When I come back in December, I'm brining solvent and a metric wrench to take care of the rest. As it is, it's useless, but I think I can save it. The bike is nearly 23 years old, but I intend to make it new again. My plan is to take it with me to San Francisco and then build it into a fixed gear bike, re-paint it, and hopefully resurrect it and give it a second life. The Schwinn once took me all over the streets of Montgomery and rural backroads of Alabama. I can't wait to see how it does in California.

Wish me luck.

Personal Best

I set a new 10K personal best today, clocking a 7:36 pace. That sounds fast to me, and I'm thrilled with it.

But then I remember High School, when a seven-minute mile was de rigour, not something to brag about. Though I've come a long way from my days as a smoker, it pains me to realize that I'll never have that athletic ability I had when I was a kid back again. Worse, however, is that I spent my best athletic years as a smoker, and an oft-intoxicated one at that.

I'm halfway through my 30s now, and for the past five years -- while I've certainly fallen off the wagon and picked up the cancer sticks -- I've largely been in god shape, biking and hiking, swimming and running. After deciding to get into triathlons this year, I've gotten into the best shape I've been in since I was a sophomore in high school, when I took up smoking.

But I think back to when I was 15, when I made the varsity track and cross country teams. When I placed in the state. When I could run faster and father than I can now. And I can't help but wonder how good I would have been at 18, or at 22, or 25.

I lost those years, and I regret it.

And so I hit a personal best today. But not really. In all reality, I'll never know my personal best. Rather: I'll never know my potential best. I'll always be left wondering what I could have done had I not dedicated the 1990s to Philip Morris and Samuel Adams. Had I, instead, dedicated them to me.