I’m going to throw convention to the wind and state the moral of this post at the beginning: be careful what you post on social networking sites like Twitter or Facebook.
I’ll start by saying that I intended to race the Mount San Bruno Hillclimb on January 1st, 2011. Never mind that I can’t climb worth a damn; I’ve been “training” pretty hard this winter by way of a few ill-advised attempts at ‘cross racing, so I figured I might as well give the traditional New Years hillclimb a shot. I may have even posted my intentions on Facebook.
As always seems to be the case, the Mike Hernandez/Beth Newell duo — both nice, kind people when not hiding behind the mask of ones and zeros — began publicizing my statements and calling me out when I failed to show.
You win, Beth. Or maybe Mike. I can’t keep track of who is who anymore.
Yes, I skipped the hillclimb because I remained entirely wasted from the previous evening’s festivities by 7:30am. Is that a crime?
Actually, I’m pretty sure a BUI would be a crime. I awoke at the appropriate time and briefly considered cramming a sleeve of Fig Newtons into my gullet while forging a contraband USA Cycling “Authorization to Race” form, as I had naturally not renewed my license. Instead, I gave myself a quick field-sobriety test and failed miserably, nearly poking my own eye out performing that whole fingertip-to-nose thingy. That didn’t seem safe, and I subsequently chose to sleep until noon like a regular human being. Hell, even perpetual hillclimber Dan Connelly chose to forgo the race, so I’m in good company.
Anyway, for whatever reason, Beth really wants to compete with me, but I won’t give her the pleasure of trying (and failing).
You see, it’s obvious that Beth is siphoning most of the testosterone from her own boyfriend to herself — I mean, take a look at the guy’s emaciated biceps and listen to his Robert Plant-esque voice! Just because this testosterone transfer is consensual doesn’t mean it’s not doping, guys.
Now, a defense of my actions yesterday (or lack thereof) was not really the point of this post. Instead, let’s turn our attention to the internet activity of Steve Reaney’s #1 eunuch, Chris Stastny.
Stastny is a pretty good bike racer, a pretty nice guy, and he’s pretty enough that I like to photoshop my own face onto his race-winning body (though that’s a different topic altogether).
Like many pre-teen boys, Stastny also happens to post things on Twitter/Facebook with some frequency; I tend to respond with rival immaturity. Take, for instance, this post about the overall epicness of his rides with Cal Giant eunuchmate Tyler Brandt.
Now, declarations of ride epicness are one thing — totally acceptable practice in the world of bike nerds — but declarations of improved fitness are invitations for public mockery. Less than 24 hours prior to this year’s San Bruno Hillclimb, Stastny posted the following.
Sure, his diction is a bit vague, but for the sake of this post let’s assume he means that he feels stronger than he did last year, and especially the year before that. I’m the blogger, so I get to take that kind of liberty with other people’s words.
- Stastny is, in fact, not stronger than he was last year and he just feels that way because his coach strokes his ego or because someone mis-calibrated his Powertap.
- Stasnty is stronger than last year but also much fatter — much, much fatter. After all, climbing is all about power-to-weight, right?
Confused as to what kind of coaching practices Jesse Moore might be employing that could cause Stastny’s year-to-year fitness to stasgnate (oh God…forgive me for that one), I did a little bit of research.
This is what I found.
No wonder Stastny’s fitness gains have been surpassed only by his weight gains…he’s being coached by a closet fat kid who only derives motivation from edible objects. Seriously, Jesse…people are paying you for that kind of advice? Maybe you should just motorpace your clients in an ice-cream truck to motivate them.
Alright, I have work I ought to be doing, so I’ll leave it at that. I am sure Jesse and Chris will respond with gusto, which ought to be entertaining.
See everyone at the Early Bird Crits!