In 2009, Lance Armstrong came out of retirement to compete, once again, in the Tour de France, the premier cycling event in the world. He came in third overall. This, of course, means that in 2009, Lance Armstrong was one of the very best competitive cyclists in the world. He was 38 years old. Let’s just put a pin in that for now, shall we? Okay…
It’s finally spring in Chicago. For those of you who don’t know, Chicago is one of the most spectacularly beautiful cities in the world, and the only reason that it’s not hyper expensive, a la Sydney/Tokyo/New York/LA/London etc. is because the weather here tends to suck the dick right off a dog. In the winter, it’s so cold that everyone and everything freezes. The old people die. It blows. In the summer, it gets so hot that everyone melts. Grids fail, bulbs burst in the sockets. The old people die. It blows. A fond expression around Chicago is “There are two seasons in Chicago: Winter and construction.” That’s pretty much true, and it’s a multi layered joke because firstly, it stays cold as shit long into “spring” and then just shoots right into being unbearably hot. Similarly, at the end of summer, one day you just kind of wake up and boom! You need your earmuffs. You gotta have your shorts AND parkas ready to go at a moments notice on any given day in this town (this has to do with the jetstreams and lake effect and all sorts of blah blah blah that I’m not gonna get into, but suffice it to say, we’ve got a unique place in the meteorological world that accounts for our crazy weather).
The second part of this joke is this: In the winter, it gets so fucking cold here that the streets all contract and crack. When it suddenly heats up real quick, all the roads bust apart and car-swallowing potholes bloom everywhere. Hence, winter and construction.
Anyway, the point is, right now, in these few beautiful spring days and again in September at the end of summer, Chicago is, hands down the most amazing city you could ever hope to be in. It’s spectacular. In celebration of our newly acquired ability to be outside without freezing our labias off, I’ve broken out my bike and started riding it to work. My bike is pretty okay. I bought it on Craigslist after my buddy Chris gave me a hot tip. It’s a road bike, no gears, but it’s not one of those dumb bikes with no brakes. I can coast on it. It’s just a regular, fast, light, normal bike for grownups. No stupid terminator 2 technology and no dumb future-primitive fixed-gear dick thumping. It doesn’t look fancy, but it’s fun to ride, and I’ve been taking it the 8 or so miles each way to and from work since it got nice out.
Now, back to the city for a moment: for those of you who’ve never been, Chicago is on Lake Michigan which is a huge lake that looks like a calm ocean, in that you can’t see the other side, and therefore it has the illusion of vastness. People from various coastal zones often come to Chicago and are shocked to find that this is true. “I didn’t believe that it REALLY looked like this, but this is like, a REAL BEACH!?!?! I don’t believe that’s a lake!” people say to us (which is kind of condescending, really. What do you think, I don’t know what a beach looks like? I said it looks like the ocean. I’ve been to the ocean…come on). Anyway, the reason the beachfront zone is so nice is because back in the day one of the big Chicago families (the Wrigleys [gum!] or the Kellogs [eugenics!], I don’t remember which and I’m too lazy to look it up) bought up the entire lakefront and gifted it to the city as a park back in the day. Therefore, there’s no commercial or private property development at all on the entire half mile or so between the water and the city along the eastern border of Chicago (there are a few exceptions to this, notably small hotdog stands, North Pond restaurant, that one building Oprah used to live in…but still, as far as huge, highly coveted swaths of land in major cities go, the lakefront in Chicago is remarkably pristine).
Anyway, I ride my bike from my house, which is way northwest, down to the lake and then I take the path all the way downtown to my office. It’s a really nice ride and a fun way to get some of the disgusting, coagulated bacon grease off of my musculature. However, I’m not the only person on the path. Heavens no. In fact, the path, even at 8 AM is full of other cyclists, powerwalkers, hobos, and joggers. And in the afternoon it’s completely insane. The path is jamming. Stoned teenagers, jugglers, and bodybuilders flank the path as the huge amounts of bike and jogging traffic thread through. And it’s these other motherfuckers on bikes, my fellow cyclists, I want to talk about today.
Yeah, I’m one of them. I like riding my bike. It’s fun, it’s great, and with a great place to ride like the Chicago lakefront, I understand completely why everyone and their mom gets out there and rides. But these dipshits that are going for it on their bikes…what’s up with them? Oh, you don’t know what I’m talking about? Let me set the scene:
You’re me. You’re cruising along at a nice clip, passing old ladies on bikes and joggers, going a reasonable speed, keeping yourself alert. Suddenly, someone starts shrilly barking words at you from behind “STRAIGHT ON! LEFT! XXXXXX{these X’s are to indicate shit that they all yell that I, as a path newbie, don’t yet understand}.” Suddenly, a ‘team’ of these dipshits shoot past, wearing heavily branded lycra bodysuits, toe clips, Oakley blades, with fucking go-pro helmet cams strapped to the tops of their heads. They’re FLYING through groups of people with kids, old folks, tubby hipsters on longboards etc. and right as you wrap your head around the weirdness that is a bunch of grown men playing dress up and putting everyone around them in danger so they can zip down the lakefront path with awesome gusto, ANOTHER squad of these dinguses swoop past you in the exact same getups. Then another group does. Then another group comes from the other way. Cyclists. Real, ‘competitive’ cyclists are EVERYWHERE, zooming all over the place with no shame at all. It’s almost as if they truly believe that they don’t look completely fucking stupid. And they do. What? Yeah they do. Listen:
You know why Lance Armstrong’s bodysuit is covered in ads? Lemme tell you why: It’s because people pay him for the space on his suit. When you’re willfully paying top dollar to slide into a nudity suit that’s slathered in corporate logos, you’re already a dick. You don’t even NEED the head-cam or the glasses—the lame ‘out-of-my-way’ jargon or the obnoxious formation riding. You’re ALREADY blowing it so bad by cruising around in that dumb suit. What are you, six? You want your superman pajamas, buddy? Is that what you want to go outside and play in? Okay. Cool. Just as long as we’re clear on what’s going on here.
The helmet cam? What? Do you watch that shit back? REALLY? What’s on there? A bunch of terrified moms pulling their kids out of the way and guys like me giving you the finger? Cool movie, bro. Listen, riding bikes is fun. Physically challenging yourself is fun. I’d even go so far as to say that there’s a way to ride fast on the bike path that’s fun and not completely stupid, but fuck me if any of the men in Chicago seem to have been able to figure that last bit out. Good grief. It’s like everyone’s training for the goddamned Tour de France, as if THAT’S somehow cool.
Listen, remember what I wrote at the top, about Lance Armstrong in 2009? If you can be 38 years old and be one of the elite in your sport, it ain’t much of a sport. Period. Sorry dorks. It’s true. That doesn’t make it not fun, or not challenging. It just means that people with REAL athletic ability are actually playing the sports that are way more fun, more challenging and more lucrative and therefore allowing for a cycling crème de la crème that consists of greasy Europeans and athletic geriatric cancer survivors. Cycling is a GREAT way to exercise, but no matter how high you rise in the elite, thrill-a-second world of celebrity cycling, about the best thing that’s gonna happen to you is that maybe you’ll get to bone Cheryl Crow. Guys that play HOCKEY bang supermodels, and only Canadians, white people from Detroit and Scandinavian perverts like hockey.
Other people that ride bikes in Chicago include hipster goofs on their magic bikes, glimmering shirtless gays, and the moms and old men, just jiggling the backs of their arms along down the trail. Once you get off the trail, you’ve got the guys with too many DUI’s, who you can spot a mile away. They’re older and they’re smoking cigarettes and they’re always on shitty 90’s mountain bikes. They’ve got bad tattoos and tend to be pretty amusing in their blatant disregard for all traffic laws, including their willingness to just ride on the sidewalk. Also on the same bikes, disregarding the same laws, but infinitely more respectable are the busboys. They’re pretty hard to find fault with, except for I just wish they’d stay the fuck off the sidewalk. That’s an unforgivable sin.
Okay, this is real long. Sorry. TL;DR version: Chicago is awesome. Don’t be a dick on your bike. Xoxoxoxo
BK
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