Jake Khuon's Casual Ponderings and Pontifications

Everybody's Free to Wear Lycra

I'm not sure how many of you are familiar with the infamous Everybody's Free to Wear Sunscreen (aka The Sunscreen Song) or know its history, It really isn't as much of a song as it is a monologue set to music. I've always regarded it as pretty fitting for cycling but I tried to make a version that bore just a little more reference. I'm also not sure if this has already been done before although I do know there's a version out there specific to riding recumbents. I still am not sure I like all the wording so feel free to suggest changes.

[Based off Everybody's Free to Wear Sunscreen (aka The Sunscreen Song) with apologies to Mary Schmich and Baz Luhrmann]

Ladies and gentlemen of the community of cyclists... Wear lycra.

If I could offer you only one tip for the future, lycra would be it. The long-term benefits of lycra have been proved by professional cyclists, whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own meandering experience. I will dispense this advice now.

Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth. Oh, never mind. You will not understand the power and beauty of your youth until they've faded. But trust me, in 20 years, you'll look back at photos of yourself and recall in a way you can't grasp now how much possibility lay before you and how fabulous you really looked. You are not as fat as you imagine.

Don't worry about converting the drivers. Or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by ingesting a packet of Gu. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind, the kind that blindside you at 4 p.m. on your Tuesday commute.

Do one thing every day that scares you.

Spin.

Don't be reckless with other people's bikes. Don't put up with people who are reckless with yours.

Lube.

Don't waste your time on stoplight sprints. Sometimes you're ahead, sometimes you're behind. The race is long and, in the end, it's only with yourself.

Remember the riders who drop you. Forget the ones you drop. If you succeed in doing this, tell me how.

Keep your old PowerLinks. Throw away your old PowerBars.

Stretch.

Don't feel guilty if you don't know where you want to go on your ride. The most interesting people I know didn't know at two miles where they wanted to go on their rides. Some of the most interesting 40 mile rides I know still don't go anywhere.

Get plenty of carbohydrates. Be kind to your knees. You'll miss them when they're gone.

Maybe you'll mountain bike, maybe you won't. Maybe you'll have a fixed gear, maybe you won't. Maybe you'll have to push a 39, maybe you'll dance the funky chicken on your your pedals like Lance Armstrong climbing L'Alpe D'Huez. Whatever you do, don't congratulate yourself too much, or berate yourself either. Your choices are half chance. So are everybody else's.

Enjoy your bike. Use it every way you can. Don't be afraid of it or of what other people think of it. It's the greatest instrument ever invented.

Pedal. Even if you have nowhere to do it but your living room.

Read the cue sheet, even if you don't follow them.

Do not read bicycling magazines. They will only give you upgrade fever.

Get to know your bike shops. You never know when they'll be gone for good. Be nice to your mechanics. They're your best link to a smooth drivetrain and the people most likely to fix it when you case a huck off a skinny.

Understand that riders come and go, but with a precious few you should hold on. Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and lifestyle, because the better you get, the more you need the people who knew you when you were a newbie.

Bike in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard. Bike in Northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft. Travel.

Accept certain inalienable truths: Hills will rise. Pacelines will splinter. You, too, will get tired. And when you do, you'll fantasize that when you were fresh, hills were reasonable, pacelines stayed intact and cyclists respected their drafts.

Respect your drafts.

Don't expect anyone else to support you. Maybe you have a windless route. Maybe you'll have a friend willing to pull. But you never know when either one might run out.

Don't mess too much with your hair or by the time you take off your helmet it will look like you were a band member from the early 1980s.

Be careful whose advice you buy, but be patient with those who supply it. Advice is a form of nostalgia. Dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts and recycling it for more than it's worth.

But trust me on the lycra.

Posted by khuon on Wed, 02 Jun 2004, 02:41:15 UTC-08:00