Yesterday I mentioned unsanctioned bicycle racing, and as it happens I also received an email from a PR firm promoting an unsanctioned running race with the following subject line:
The Rise of Unsanctioned Racing Is Rewriting Running Culture
It continued:
More and more runners are stepping away from traditional races – the lotteries, the crowded corrals, the polished race expos – in search of something that feels more raw, more connected, and more grounded in community.
That shift is fueling the rise of unsanctioned racing: small, word-of-mouth events held on open streets. No permits. No chip timing. No spectator-lined finish. Just a start line, a set of secret checkpoints, and the freedom to get there however you choose.
My first thought was that hiring a PR firm to promote an unsanctioned word-of-mouth race seemed rather ironic, like making your dad who works on Wall Street buy you this shirt:
Not that I have anything against unsanctioned running races, mind you. I even tried to start running regularly myself several years back, and nobody sanctioned it. Sadly however I had to stop when I immediately realized I was quickly destroying my body. At my age, running is basically the corporeal equivalent of riding your bike through wet sand day after day and never cleaning it.
Speaking of irony, I really try not to mention the Desert Hipster website and how ridiculous it is, because doing so makes me seem petty and jealous. (Because I am petty and jealous.) But how the hell am I supposed to keep my mouth shut when I read something like this?
When putting together a bike, I find it useful to approach the task with a sort of Janus-faced perspective, twin gazes looking towards two poles of reference: the pragmatic and the romantic. These poles are positioned not as a pair of opposites within some binary schema, but rather points of difference upon the continuum of purpose. For my ends, at least, establishing a balance, developing concordance between the two is the most edifying aspect of building a bike, of locating the perfect degree of tension in their midst. If one leans too far towards the romantic, then a beautiful tool is produced, but one that functions best on the showroom floor; contrarily, if one overemphasizes the pragmatic aspects, then a performance machine is all but ensured, yet one that rarely stirs the spirit to song. How delicate the dance!
Okay, maybe it’s tongue-in-cheek and I’m missing it, but if someone of even my intellectual sophistication can’t tell then I’d err on the side of pure pretentiousness. And if you’re looking for the irony, it’s that all this purple-anodized prose is about putting together a Specialized. A Specialized. Yes, all this person did was change some parts on a Specialized.
Alas, too many of us in this social media-addled age think that simply buying something is an act of artistic expression–and I absolutely include myself in that, by the way. I mean when I look at this baby I feel like a creative genius!
When putting together a bike, I find it useful to approach the task with a sort of Jungian subconscious introspection, in which I attempt to reconcile the Dionysian with the Appolonian by combining disparate elements, whilst at the same time endeavoring to adhere to Joseph Campbell’s framework of the hero’s journey when undertaking all my bicycle rides.
If nothing else, the modern cycling media is perhaps the best example we have of why you should never, ever send your kids to college.
Hey, look, I get it. We all want to think our kids are going to go to college and then do something great that will allow them to immediately pay off all their student loans, like invent a jersey that allows you to nurse yourself:
Behold, the future of gravel hydration:
I was alerted to this item by the venerable commenter known as “Urchin,” and to preemptively answer your questions, yes, there’s a video, and yes, it’s in French:
Look, I get it. Sometimes you need more water than you can carry on your bike, and you don’t want to suffer the indignity of using a hydration pack. So this jersey lets you hydrate in a far more dignified fashion–by suckling awkwardly at your own teat:
[Why wouldn’t you just take the bottle out first?]
This is truly the greatest French contribution to cycling since the H-Zontal:
Though in the greatest bit of irony we’ve seen so far today it’s impossible to use this jersey while riding an H-Zontal:
Of course the jersey works well for smaller bottles…
…though if you attempt to use larger ones you could experience some sagging and jiggling, especially on rough terrain, in which case you can also purchase this optional reinforcement kit:
Frankly, at that point you might as well go for the fully integrated hydration solution:
[Total Integrated Tippling Solution (T.I.T.S.)]
This could be the product that finally compels me to upgrade from my automatic hydration backpack:
The future of cycling is nothing if not moist.