24 Hours of Fixed Gear Gallery

Click HERE for details.

Start - 12:00 Noon, Friday 10/23/09
Finish - 12:00 Noon, Saturday 10/24/09

All proceeds benefit the MS Society. Got Fixie? Get involved!

Fuso thinks...

Fuso must watch his step. This great lion is not so much of a coward.


Fuso pays a visit to the Meyerson, but knows deep down he is music in motion.


Fuso wonders if ancient Egyptians worshiped the power of the fixed gear.


Fuso stops for a few moments of silent contemplation with the all powerful Buddha of Fixies. “May all your journeys be as swift, smooth and silent as the Eastern winds.”


Fuso counts his lucky stars for having paint and clear coat to protect against the elements.


A little arrogant perhaps, but Fuso thinks everyone should be bowing down to him now.


Fuso poses with the pastel goodness of the Color Wall.


Fuso wonders where Steve Martin is when you need him.

Racing into 2008

Every New Years I begin to get a little reflective, thinking about what has happened in the previous twelve months. I try not to make any judgments about what was or what could have been, but instead simply look at what I gained in either knowledge or skill, and how I will apply it to the New Year at hand. Several things remain at the top of my mind, fighting for space in my daily thought processes with meaningless tasks like working, eating and sleeping. What does fall into the scope of this article is the little subject we seem to cover quite well in this monthly magazine: bicycle racing. Or, more importantly, what types of racing we’ll be doing in 2008.

There are so many choices, aren’t there? Mountain biking, Road racing, Criterium, Track, even BMX exists in the Dallas / Fort Worth area. Some readers, I hope, are not racers at all but may perhaps be considering bicycle racing as a progression in their hobby or evolution of their current involvement in charity events around the region. I’m sure most people are looking at mountain bike, criterium and long distance road race events as the most obvious ways of getting, or staying, involved in this wonderful sport, but I want to call some attention to the Superdrome. You know, the high banked wooden track that is tucked away in a little hamlet called Frisco.

For those of you who don’t know, the Superdrome is a 250 meter long, high banked (44 degrees in the corners), wooden surface race track on the Collin County Community College campus off of Preston road. The facility includes the equivalent of a Jumbotron, some really trick timing and scoring devices and is populated throughout the year by a band of very motivated, devoted and ludicrously fast cyclists who range in age from ten to 70. Something else that is nice is that the track is open for practice nearly every night of the week from March through October, weather permitting.

Something else that is both commonly known, and commonly misunderstood, is the fact that a track bike has only one gear, no brakes and you can’t glide. This, I’m sure, sounds incredibly archaic and torturous. Both of these are accurate adjectives, but I also like to throw in safe, structured, flowing and intense. The safety in this is that no one on the track is going to be changing their speed abruptly, and the structure of rules and courtesies creates an atmosphere that promotes controlled aggression and respect.

As a training methodology the track offers riders innumerable means of building massive power, incredible stamina and blindingly high cadence. All of these things can offer great benefit to a cyclist involved in any other branch of this faceted sport, but what I enjoyed most out of my 2007 track racing experience is the camaraderie and friendship that is so quickly on offer when you walk through the gates. Training advice, encouragement and friendship are readily available to those who seek a little more from this sport than sidelong glances, instant drops and gritty snarls during their rides. Of course, if you want those things, there’s plenty to go around during the Friday night races!

If you’re new to track bikes and fixed gear riding the Superdrome staff can help by providing a morning of instruction, a rental bike (even for races) and lots of advice. Honestly, there’s no reason not to try riding at the track, even if you don’t plan on racing.

To get things started, why not come out and watch a few races. When you get to the track, don’t go straight to the grandstand. Instead, walk up the two flights of stairs to the left of the timing building and take a look at the whole complex. If gazing down at the rush of riders from the top of the banking doesn’t drop your jaw and get your heart racing, then you definitely have some thrill issues. The season starts in March, and we’re excited to welcome a crop of new families and racers to the best kept secret in cycling.

For more information, please visit www.Superdrome.com.

The Kilo

“I know that I am going to sound like a supermodel, but my goal tonight is to throw up”, I excitedly tell my girlfriend before she heads up to the stands to join some friends. Her response amounts to a pat on the head and an “I’m so glad you’re cute, because that sounds so wrong” look that I am convinced of interpreting as optimism. We’re minutes away from my first timed attempt at the Kilo, and I have decided that regardless of how poor my time is, if I can at least achieve that one goal than I’ll know that I could not have pushed myself any harder.

I think it was April of 2005 that I rode my first MS150 from Houston to Austin. The event drew 13,000 cyclists and encompassed 180 miles of riding split over two days. I had trained well for it, rode regularly with organized groups and had set some reasonable goals for myself regarding time for completion and average speed. I was your average charity cyclists: a guy that was just out to enjoy cycling, raise a little money for a worthy cause and push what were then my physical limits with a two day, higher mileage event. I knew I was no racer, but I still enjoyed having those goals and pushing myself along with others during the event. At the overnight stop at some park 100 miles out from Houston I lay in my 90 degree tent trying to sleep off the feeling of having molten lead in my veins.

Three or four weeks later I rode another event, the MS150 from Dallas to Ardmore, OK. The event was far smaller but still provided a practical and challenging means to test my limits and enjoy a great ride. I wanted to ride harder and faster than my time in the first event and was determined to not only utilize, but require the massage tent at the pit stop. I accomplished that goal and spent another afternoon close to tears as my body reminded me that pushing to such a degree was followed by lots of lactic acid. Again I awoke the next day and pushed in those final miles.

Hotter ‘n’ Hell was a few months later and I enjoyed yet another strong ride considering my status as a guy on a bicycle. I knew I was not carrying any kind of speed comparable to a racer, but given my fitness I was quite proud of completing the event within my goal time. Again I felt the pain of acid after the event, but within a reasonable amount of time I was walking around the parking lot and chatting with friends.

Jump forward two years in time to the Kilo, an event run during the 2007 Elite National Qualifier. I have no chance of qualifying for Nationals and will be beaten by a member of AARP, but my desire to support the track and enjoy racing was strong enough to get me out that Friday evening. Aside from being an archaic form of torture, the Kilo time trial features a standing start followed by a one kilometer sprint. Or, as Mike Morris put it to me, “The race is won in the first 45 seconds. You have to give it everything you have for that first lap. If your butt touches the saddle before you get to turn three, you’ve already lost. Lap two continues the sprint so hold nothing back. On your third lap you need to maintain and not lose too much speed, but on the fourth lap all bets are off. It’s a battle against lactic acid and you just have to try and stay on the bike.”

Mike is a bit of an expert at the Kilo, as well as the practice of inflicting oneself with massive amounts of pain through cycling. Prior to meeting Mr. Morris I had never heard of an ice bath, seen someone push their cardio so hard they puked or realized that you could ride so hard for only 200 meters that it was necessary to rest, laying down, for a full 10 minutes.

Following my attempt at the kilo, complete with what my girlfriend Betty can only now refer to as “those hilarious grunting and screaming noises”, I found myself experiencing a level of pain unmatched in any of my previous riding. Not only could I not walk, but that night, despite my exhaustion, I did not sleep. I was back up at the track the next morning for my 200 meter time trial and spoke briefly with a rider from the Compliance Depot team that stated, “I never knew that I could ride only one kilometer and still be in this much pain 12 hours later. And now here I am ready to do it again.”

“Yeah,” I thought, “I didn’t puke either.”

Danish

Coming out of turn four I start to realize that I might actually have a shot, and perhaps my rudimentary strategy will work. I sit in the draft and watch carefully as two riders duke it out up front, neither wanting to lead and give the other the advantage of a draft, but neither wanting to slack off as they know the pack is just 15 meters behind.

While sitting in the paddock a few minutes ago I learned that the first race tonight is a Danish, which could also be called a Winner’s Out. The idea, I was told, is that after a given number of laps the bell is rung to signal the final lap. The leader, or winner of the race, is then pulled from the event while everyone else continues racing. Whoever “wins” the second lap is then pulled and awarded second place, but the pack continues to race for yet another lap to determine third and the remainder of the finishing positions through the pack. What this means is that if you sprint for the win and miss, you’re doomed to completing another lap while being chased by a seemingly rabid pack of riders.

“What’s your strategy?”
Raja is asking me a simple question, but my answer is far less than adequate.
“I think I’m going to try and pedal faster than everyone else.”
He smiles, but he’s serious now, “No really, what’s your strategy?”
Back in the Eighties there was this great John Cusack movie called Better Off Dead in which the main character was attempting to woo back his ex-girlfriend by winning a ski race. Sitting at the top of a mountain, his friend provided what I thought was a perfectly sound strategy:
“Listen to me Lane. I want you to go that way, really fast. And when something gets in your way… turn.”
I explain this to Raja with a variety of hand signals and pantomime movements, but he’s less impressed with my ability to reenact the scene than I was hoping.

We complete another lap of the 250 meter Superdrome and I hear the bell ring as we exit turn four. Frank and Sam are well out in front so I’ve resigned myself to waiting another lap to make my attack and, assuming things go as planned, will settle for second. Presently I am sitting in fourth behind Joe Crenshaw, one of the many great people I’ve met at the Superdrome. I’m grateful for all the guidance he and others have provided over the past couple of weeks as I have only just started racing on the high banked track. At twice my age and three times my chivalry I would normally feel ashamed to draft for so long before going for a crushing sprint, but he beat me in the Kilo a week or two earlier and I’m not feeling very charitable at the moment.

Frank wins the sprint and is the first person pulled from the race. Going into turn one I slip out wide and mash the pedals. Surging ahead of Joe I start to make ground on Sam. I’ve made my move a little late, but Sam is feeling the pain of having just sprinted for the win and lost by the slimmest of margins. We slice into three and Sam holds his line in the sprinter’s lane. My only option is to slide wide and try to out power him going to the line. He’s taken a bigger risk than me, and ultimately I take him as we approach the line. Winded, I stay out wide and watch from above the blue line while the field continues to race for the final positions. Not bad for my third race at the track, but Sam beats me handily in the next two races that evening. I’m elated with my results and thankful for all of the encouragement, but there’s still so much to learn.