Teammates –
As usual, there is a huge amount going on with Team RWB – we
have members participating in the Race Across America (RAAM), good luck Maj.
Dan Gade and to all the riders participating this year. Special shout out to Team 4Mil, a two squad
team racing to raise money and awareness for the Wounded Warrior Project. One of their two teams is made up entirely of
Wounded Warriors. Last year their 4Mil
Warrior squad came in second in the very tough 8-man team division. Best of
luck to USNA grad and prior Marine Officer Kyle Pittman and the rest of the
guys. There is also the usual compliment
of summer weekend races, so best of luck to everyone who is clipping in, lacing
them up, or poised for that in-water start.
On a personal note, this week also marks the week that my
wife and I leave Italy to move back to the East Coast. It is impossible to sum up what Italy meant
to us, and the experiences we have had over the past year. I had the chance to ride some of the most
well-known and respected rides in the Dolomites, swim some of the hardest
practices of my life, and eat some of the best food.
Of course, one of the other things Italy meant for me was a
chance to ogle at amazing bicycles – from Willier to Bianchi, Pinarello to
Colnago, the Italians simply know how to make quality bikes. My dream, despite my wife’s frequent
protestations about the number of bikes that already clutter our house, was to
somehow come home with a Pinarello Dogma.
Granted, the frame alone costs about $7,000 and we were on a graduate
student budget, but that’s the thing about dreams – those are free. Instead, I ended up with a, probably once-stolen,
50 Euro (about $65) commuter bike. It
weighed approximately 80 pounds, had one gear, and the seat was about a foot
too low. It was also clearly originally
black, but it had been poorly re-painted yellow, earning it the nickname “The
Bumbo” – the bumblebee. What the Bumbo
lacked in speed, aerodynamics, or state of the art engineering, it made up for
with character. Its thick, wide tires
allowed me to work on my track stands, the step-through (yes, it was cut like
an old fashioned girls’ bike) was amazing for transitions, and no one would
have been at all interested in stealing it.
The only time it went fast was if it was going downhill, especially
since the brakes were often loose.
Italy was hit with a particularly hard winter this year, and
the area we lived in was hammered with snow.
On days when I would never have dared to ride my road bike, the Bumbo
was there. I rode it to swim practice
over four inches of slushy snow and then again a couple days later when that
snow had turned to ice. The Bumbo was
indestructible – I think it was probably built in 1923 – and I rode it in the
worst conditions I have ever taken a bike in.
And the best part? I didn’t even
bother to clean it afterward – snow, sand, ice, salt – it all added not only to
the character, but probably the workings of the Bumbo. After the snow melted, the Bumbo was still in
great working order, and it was my main means of transportation through the
spring. Riding the Bumbo was freedom,
pure and simple. The ridiculousness of
the low seat, paint job, and sheer weight of the machine reminded me of the
thing we as triathletes can often forget – that riding a bike should first and
foremost be fun. It was fun in the way
riding a bike as a child was fun – carefree and with no training intentions at
all (though I am pretty sure the weight of the bike allowed me to work on my
leg strength). There was a pure joy to
riding the Bumbo that is often lost when grinding out miles at threshold on my
tri bike.
 |
| The Bumbo stands ready at swim practice |
Over the past three weeks, we have said goodbye to friends,
places we have come to love, and Italy itself – as I type, it is fading behind
us as we wing our way to Baltimore. Last
week, we also sold the Bumbo, which in so many ways had in my mind come to
epitomize our experiences in Italy – ridiculous and inefficient and
cumbersome. But also exhilarating and
just plain fun. So if you are riding a
Dogma this year, or a Willier, I’ll probably shoot you an envious glance, but
it isn’t because I want your bike any more, it’s because I am missing the
Bumbo.
Happy trails.
