Emily Zinn, on the profound commitment to your CX bike
Join in if this has ever happened to you:
The month of August is hot and still deeply summer and you’re not thinking about cyclocross. But September… that’s the month of cyclophilia! The races are beginning and you haven’t even considered assembling your ‘cross bike, literally in seven pieces in a box in the garage. Decrepit mummy wrappings hang off your handlebars like a crappy Halloween costume. Your cranks barely spin, which is hardly relevant without pedals on them. Fuzzy chevrons adorn threadbare tubulars, still adhered with comedic strength to rims, the tread so worn you’d be better off using them on the road.
You meant to do it, but August disappeared so quickly you barely realized it had started. You had to get in the last concerts at Red Rocks, not to mention your favorite races — and who’s got time for more than two bikes in their life?
At the thought of you arriving to your first cyclocross group training ride on your mountain bike, the cycling-inclined man in your life must fight to stave off an aneurism (IT’S THE SILENT KILLER, LANA!). Finally, the nightmares of sticky bottom brackets will overpower him to the point that he literally steals your cyclocross bike and under the cover of darkness begins covertly systematically fixing your bike’s ailments, thereby getting you off the hook.
Yeah, that’s never happened to me, either.
But, were I to point out similarities to my own life in the non-committal subjunctive tense, I would say it’s about time I nut up and do it myself.
So, I’m starting in August. I’m gonna sniff my own Mastik and clean my own cables.
I did intend to write this blog in July… but who thinks about cyclocross in July?