Romulus weighs in on the team scene and the prioritization of cycling.

One of the great things about biking in the Bay Area is the frequent encounters with wildlife. Depending on the actual encounter the experiences themselves can range from awe-inspiring to downright fear, especially if you've ever seen a hippo-sized buck with antlers as big as Aztec spears. This past Saturday as Cannonball and I made a gleeful road bike descent of Page Mill Road in Palo Alto (a Category 1 climb no less) we saw the most wonderful site to behold - a massive hawk with a wingspan as wide as the two lane road. I actually noticed it first gliding across the way into some dense canopy and perching itself in a regal position on a tree limb overhanging the road. I'm hollering at CB, "Did you see that... look!... look!", when suddenly the grand bird was right above us about 10 yards away. CB said, "Holy Shiz, look at that thing", and no sooner than he uttered those words when the hawk swooped overhead and off to its predatory pursuits. It's times like those when we really wish we had a helmet camera because even if we'd brought the regular digitals there was about a 2% chance we would've captured the moment.

Our spirit guide for the day	Stylized

In retrospect, that hawk perhaps best symbolizes our plight as competitive, dedicated though mainly recreational cycling enthusiasts. If CB and I were birds we would be hawks - solitary figures who, unlike say the vultures and geese, seldom flock together. Not to compare the cycling community to the latter birds, but we are finding that there really are no groups that we fit into comfortably. Admittedly maudlin about the great camaraderie we had with Bonzai, what goes unspoken during our rides now is how much we truly miss Bonzai's companionship. Is it a coincidence that the peleton always seems to be going the opposite direction of CB and Rom or is it a profound reminder of the type of cycling species we are? A perplexing question indeed but one that deserves, if not an answer, a thorough analysis. First off let me state the obvious: not one person in our age group is going to Beijing in 2008 which leaves the annual US Nationals as the only viable goal for the average duffer. Sure, the crits, stage races, single day classics and festivals abound with glory seeking cyclists whose competitive fires burn like the brimstone flames of Hades. So what. The desire to fly your team/club/shop colors at a cycling event is gratifying in a communal sense though hardly a lucrative endeavor. Yet time and again we witness the snobbery of those who are part of a team/club/shop as if anything less than full tilt commitment to the cause makes the outsider feel like a weekend warrior in 100 degree weather with a $500 department store bike and an all cotton getup. Exhibit A - My wife Duke has been trying desperately for the past two years to find a riding partner to establish a similar dynamic that CB and I have managed to cultivate. Granted, there aren't a lot of stay-at-home mom's racing at the sport class level, but how hard can it be to find a gal who at least wants to do some hassle-free workouts? One high-end bike shop allowed Duke to join them on training rides with the implicit understanding that she would eventually join the team. The team itself required a commitment that would cause an Olympian imminent hair loss; at least 6 races during the year, 3 mandatory work days on trails and/or at cycling events, fund raising, and an absolutely putrid stipulation that requires a member to wear the team outfit on ALL rides (even on your personal trainer at home I suppose). Digest that for a moment.

Now that you've reached for the Prilosec, consider the implications of such a commitment. We're talking nearly $500 in just race fees and licenses alone. And anyone not willing to purchase more than two outfits (at about $180 a pop for the top & bottom lycra ensemble) risks being rudely mistaken for a full-time sanitation engineer or worse, a basket pusher who sleeps under the freeway in stolen cycling gear. Moreover, the reward for full participation and adherence to the team guidelines is free bike maintenance and 10% off all parts purchased from the shop. No, really, that's all. For those residing in an expensive city like San Francisco that is hardly an incentive to risk life and limb doing amateur races. Shimano XTR cranks from 2006 retail for $525 but a web-savvy shopper can get them for $300, meaning the 10% discount and free labor still doesn't add up and that's just one of many examples. Oh yeah, what about health coverage, food, lodging, travel, maintenance, etc.?; costs that are incurred every time you hop in the saddle. Maybe I'm exaggerating a bit and perhaps I'm not fully appreciating what it means to be part of a team but let's dig deeper into the rationale behind this "commitment" thing. Since 99.5% of amateur competitive cyclists have to work for a living, the opportunity to compete is basically a weekend endeavor. As I look at the calendar I can automatically eliminate twelve weekends as follows: 4 for the holidays - (Mother's & Father's Day, Xmas, New Years), 2 for family vacation, 4 for rest and recovery, and 2 for life events like weddings, unscheduled travel, etc. That leaves 40 weeks for cycling related activities without factoring in life outside of cycling. What about the NFL, NBA, MLB, Golf, Tennis, March Madness? What about other interests like fishing, camping, hiking, sex, attending sporting events, concerts, and visits to the penitentiary. Hence, there are simply not enough weekends to warrant a death grip commitment to cycling, at least for the unselfish sorts who actually have a life out of the saddle. Not surprisingly, I know someone who proudly wears a t-shirt emblazoned with the boast "100 Wednesday Night Rides" and I can't for the life of me see the value in such an outrageous feat. Note, this is the same character who boasts about the Saturday morning surf, Monday night poker, Friday night pizza, and Tuesday morning 5k run. Talk about your creature of habit.

Forgive my slight digression but the point is no one should be frowned upon because they don't sacrifice life's other enjoyments for the sake of cycling. I ride because I love being on the bike and I race because it gives me something to look forward to and offers me a chance to test and improve my skills, but mostly because it's fun. As a matter of fact, there's nothing in my life that I do that isn't fun, with the exception of working for a living. Passion and dedication are the lifeblood of any extracurricular activity be it club volleyball, golf, pimping, hoops, Bible-thumping, narcotics trafficking (oops!), collectibles, music, political activism, you name it. The problem is entry into these worlds is too often impeded by that "clique mentality" that I've been alluding too.

And since the situation is further exacerbated by the indifference towards (or ignorance of) the financial burden of full participation here is my 10-part manifesto on the creation of a cycling club dedicated to having fun, nothing more and certainly nothing less:

1. No Flakes Allowed: if you say you're going to ride no last minute excuses and no showing up fashionably late
2. Safety First: participating in safety meetings as often as possible before, during, and after rides is mandatory; providing safety supplies commensurate with your participation is greatly appreciated
3. Absolutely No Whining before, during, or after a ride
4. You must participate in one (1) race per calendar year
5. Family first, second, and third on your list of importance
6. Fat Tires rule and single-track is manna from heaven; road bikes won't do you any good post Armageddon
7. There's always next weekend: no guilt trips or peer pressure
8. You will do everything in your power to get more females involved with cycling because it's good for the sport
9. Cycling knowledge is to be shared: this goes for bike maintenance, riding techniques, navigation, etc.
10. If you have grandiose ambitions of cycling glory and you're over the age of 30, start having children