The Structure of Bicycle Revolutions

          New cycling stuff rocks. I’m always stoked to buy something new for my bike. Often it means that I can explore somewhere I wouldn’t have been able to before. The right tires, bars, saddle and bags for the conditions make it easier to explore terrain that would otherwise be
inaccessible. A lot of times, this takes the form of a specific trip or ride that takes on a meaning of its own. Preparing for the Oregon Outback last spring, every new piece of gear was one puzzle piece of the whole trip fitting into place. A physical token of miles to be ridden, hills to be climbed, mechanical challenges to be fixed and nights to be spent under the stars.

           A new bike is the ultimate embodiment of this sense of possibility. An admission that there is something unexplored, something inaccessible that goes beyond a new set of tires, or wheels, or whatever. In many ways a new bike is a new paradigm; a completely new way of looking at your
environment. Exploration and inspiration become available that were previously unimaginable.

          My paradigm is about to change. A couple weeks ago I put in an order for a Surly Wednesday. The possibilities of a fatbike have been gnawing at me for years. The black space on the map that is sand and snow and “omniterra” as Surly has aptly named all the other challenging terrain that huge tires make accessible has been highlighted by photos and videos of riders sessioning 100’ sand dunes, riding through the Alaskan wilderness, and rolling through snowy landscapes previously reserved for skis and snowshoes.

Fat Forest Fat Biking.

          I have been planning new trips in daydreams from the moment the bike was on its way. Some so unreasonably challenging that they will never see the light of day. Others so mundane that when they inevitably happen when I get on the bike they will pass unnoticed. Both are a product of the type of unreasonable optimism that is not limited by time off, or weather or stretched chains and worn out cassettes. That optimism is the reason I will never leave a bike unchanged, and the reason that I continue to pedal over familiar roads and new landscapes.

The Author enjoying his newly obtained steely steed of satisfaction. Note: The Author realizes his fork is on backwards. He is trying something out.

Continue the stoke through this next video...

They Fix #1: Mr. Knobby

Mr. Tuffy has nothing on Mr. Knobby, the new tire liner innovation.

It has been said that epiphany whispers to us like angels from heaven.  Other times, inspiration barks at us like junkyard dogs.  When your kid pops a flat for the umpteenth time and threatens to hijack the ipad instead of playing outside, you scramble for a solution.  So you grab your garden shears and whatever old worn out tire you've got in the garage and make yourself a textured tire liner.  We salute you mothers, fathers and extended family of invention.          

"They Fix" is our new series highlighting other people's innovations, workarounds and bike hacks we see here in Portland.  Also, look for our upcoming companion posts "We Fix" to see how we do bikes here at 21st Avenue Bicycles.

Cyclocross season recap from Swift Racing's Katy Salinas

Some of you may not know that we've been sponsoring the Swift Racing team for the past two years.  The 30 or so cyclists on the team race road and mountain, but cyclocross is what really brought them all together.  Their results this season were impressive:

• 3rd place team (out of 97) at Blind Date
• 448 race starts in 96 races
• 180 top ten finishes
• 214 volunteer hours (for more on Swift’s community involvement, click here)

For Volunteer Coordinator and Elite Women's racer Katy Salinas, this past ‘cross season has been about more than just skinsuits and powermeters; it’s about people.

“It was an amazing season to see people with podium finishes and upgrade points to compete in the next hardest category.  Other victories include breaking into the top half of a huge field, coming back from an injury, winning a duel with that other racer who used to always finish ahead.  There’s a saying that friends multiply joy and divide suffering.  After each race, in the team tent, I rehash the race highlights, so glad that I have people.

“Cyclocross is easy to get into, but the rabbit hole is deep.  Sport-specific knowledge includes gear, training, technique, eating and resting strategies.  Team is a cadre of people to consult on what to wear in variable weather, what tire pressure to run.  I am having trouble figuring out why I struggle in corners, so one of the guys takes some time out to work with me.  I will keep growing as a racer because I have stronger racers supporting me, and racers are kind of like people.

“On a team, you get two kinds of mechanical support.  Our shop support is unparalleled, helping us maintain our bikes, decide on gear, and dial in bicycle fit.  Race days, I found additional support in my teammates.  In the tent, you see someone lubing cleats and pedals for himself and everyone else present, checking tire pressure or a glue job.  When I have a mechanical problem in a race, someone meets me in the pit to get me on a working bike and back into the fray.  In that moment, I feel like I approach something of pro status: I have people.

“Although the ribbing and heckling is loud, you could not find a more supportive group.  Head down, trying to breathe and not vomit, I hear someone telling me I can go faster, and I get out of the saddle one more time.  Some races I find myself all by myself on the course and desperate for motivation, and then I hear someone cheering me on.  I’m not alone; I have people.

“This year, we went legit with a beautiful team tent to shelter us from the element