Beating bike thieves

Every now and then I post something useful to the Kingston Wheelers forum (sort of like the proverbial infinite number of monkeys typing at infinite keyboards, yada yada) and it occurs to me that it might be nice to post it to the wider world. So today's blog topic, beating bike thieves -- not literally although if faced with one in real life I might like to give him a beating -- is in response to a clubmate trying to track down his nicked bike and see the thief prosecuted and a timely Guardian bike blog post.

Another well-meaning clubmate writes:

It's so sad reading that the guy who has had 8 bikes stolen telling people to expect your bike not to be there when you return. It's so shitty that he has come to accept that.

My response:

The truth is, if they really want your bike, they'll take it. All the best locks and deterrents in the world are only useful to the point that it becomes too much hassle for undiscerning thieves to steal yours so they go for some other poor sucker's bike instead. But if they really want yours, they'll find a way to get it. :( This is true the world over (having lived in Vancouver, Toronto, Utrecht and now here, I've heard so many tales of stolen bikes that it's just depressing to think about).

The only answer: if you can't keep an eye on your bike all the time or lock it somewhere completely safe, then ride the crappiest bike you can that still gets you from A to B comfortably, safely and reasonably quick. Or resign yourself to having it stolen eventually. Or both.

In Holland this means the rustiest hulking piece of crap omafiets, preferably painted weird colours or covered in tape. Here it means probably an old tourer or MTB with slicks. Almost certainly not a nice 80s retro fixie, or even a modern day fixie, or a Brompton, or anything remotely racey or bling.

Sad but true. I'll admit I'm a bit paranoid about cafe stops on club runs, making sure I can always see my bike. But it only needs to happen once to make you feel completely emasculated, furious and sad.

Btw, the LFGSS forum has some good stuff:
-- the (currently 105 pages long) "stolen bikes" thread, occasionally one turns up and everyone is ecstatic
-- the "what to do if your bike is stolen" thread
-- the "locks that work" thread
-- and my favourite, the "how not to lock your bike" thread, including this great example:

The P2SL Project

As most people who know me know, I love my Cervélos! My trusty Soloist, aka the Stealth Bike, has racked up thousands of miles as my bombproof all-season road and racing bike since I bought it new in May 2008. And the P3C is one of the most aerodynamic TT frames ever made, a perennial favourite on the Ironman scene. Alas, once the P3C arrived last June, my P2SL -- the first Cervélo I owned -- was reduced to mere frame and forks and relegated to a bag under the spare bed, awaiting a possible future as a fixed-gear track bike. So despite owning three Cervélos, but only two were ever fully-built and rideable. Until recently.


2008 Cervélo Soloist Team, 48cm

Jim and I had signed up for a couple of hilly Surrey League road races at Easter, but a persistent squeaking sound finally attributed to worn-out bearings meant his Powertap wheel would be at the repair shop over race weekend. With a 700c Powertap wheel on my Soloist and a 650c Powertap wheel on my TT bike, we had two Powertap wheels we could race with -- true data geeks would rather not race than be without a Powertap! -- but only if I built up the P2SL frame into a road race bike. I'm proud (embarrassed?) to say we had nearly all the spare parts lying around the house to do that, with only a front derailleur needed.


2006 Cervélo P2SL, 48cm

So I set about it two days before the first race, spending some time first studying the Cervélo geometry pages, then lining up the Soloist against the P2SL to try and replicate the position as best as possible. The first test rides revealed the need for a longer stem (and more comfortable saddle) but in the end I'm so glad Jim's Powertap died when it did, because without that impetus I might never have thought to put drop bars on the P2SL and race it. Instead, I now have an amazing little road machine that tops even the Soloist in agility and quickness. And it's pretty damned aero to boot.

Various smaller women, including 4'11" American elite racer Kerry Litka, have extolled the virtues of 650c wheels on their bikes, and I would never disagree when it comes to TTing, where aerodynamics and a short headtube and low front end are of utmost importance. But I was a bit hesitant to dive headlong into racing a bike with uncommon-sized wheels in important road races. Even Cervélo Test Team pro rider Emma Pooley, who rode 650c in 2005 as an amateur, now rides 700c as a pro (albeit 650c on her TT bike).

Emma at the Bedford Stage Race 2005 on a tiny Principia, photo by Paul Brown

Emma at the British Championships 2009 on a Cervélo S3, photo via Cycling Weekly

In a world where everyone else is on 700cc, it's clearly a distinct disadvantage to be riding a odd-sized wheel, even for someone with a team car following the race! But so far I've found it's not too bad. Convincing reluctant neutral service car drivers to carry my wheels for me is a bit of effort, though fortunately I've not needed to use them. I either race for myself or as one of the top riders on my team, so the likelihood I'd need to give up a wheel to a teammate is slim -- and if I were to do a race in support of another rider, I'd be happy to ride 700c just in case. And on longer rides I stick with the slightly less aggressive and more comfortable Soloist, which means I can share spare tubes with my riding companions if need be.

Here's what my two bikes looked superimposed on each other. Notice the steeper seattube on the P2SL (it is a TT frame after all), horizontal toptube and slightly slacker fork angle. I've still got some spacers under the stem which I'm hoping to remove over time so I can get even more low on the front end (the Soloist would need an lower-stack headset to get any lower). Both bikes have compact cranks, but the P2SL has an 11-23 cassette while the Soloist has a 12-27 for getting up those steep hills I train on but never seem to see much in races.


48cm Soloist (grey) vs 48cm P2SL (black)

The biggest difference I've found is the quicker acceleration with the smaller wheels, particularly on hills. There's also no toe overlap like I have on the Soloist (an unfortunate side effect of proper geometry on a small frame with 700c wheels). I've since added 165mm cranks to the Soloist to try and improve both of those things, but I definitely notice a zippier and more frisky feel to the P2SL. At the same time, it seems to hit bumps harder and roll less happily over rough ground, which I attribute to the smaller wheel size (similarly to the way 29er mountain bikes are supposed to handle bumps more easily). Not sure if this is actually true or just my subjective feeling?

Some more pics of the P2SL alone and lined up against the Soloist:

Cyclocross

I had been planning to post a little retrospective of my 2009 season -- which, as I've been reminded, was a pretty successful one -- but in the meantime, I thought I'd write a bit about my latest adventure in cycle racing: cyclocross, aka off-road riding on a road bike with knobby tires. This winter, what with the unusual cold weather creating icy roads and freezing windchills, cyclocross has been my saving grace to get outside on otherwise snowy and unrideable days, not to mention a welcome escape from the indoor turbo trainer.


Snowy conditions can't stop the cyclocrosser! (photo Roger Merriman)

My off-road skills have never been awesome (something I'd like to work on once I buy a good mountain bike), but cyclocross doesn't tend to have much in the way of technical climbs or descents. It's just good old-fashioned mud, grass, short sharp run-ups, off-camber corners, and the occasional unjumpable barrier thrown in for fun. In fact, it's become such a popular sport the past few years that even the BBC sent a sports reporter out to investigate, who filmed this video (watch for me to overtake him at 30 seconds in, ha ha).


What goes up... (photo Jim Ley)


Enjoys the ride down! (photo Jim Ley)

Having both the outer path of Richmond Park (my favourite running loop in dry weather) and Esher Common/Oxshott Heath close by means I can be out practising my riding skills on wooded trails and open fields within 15 minutes of leaving home. And whereas a similar park area in Canada might have a few trails here and there, wonderfully old heavily populated England means dozens of criss-crossing paths in every direction. I can easily spend two hours playing in a few hundred acres and never ride the same path twice. The same goes for races: a small bit of single-track and a football field can make up a course that takes 10 minutes to traverse!


A mile-long course in the space of a few acres.

As for race skills, years of riding a city bike around the Netherlands had already perfected my coasting dismount, and triathlon transitions meant I was good at jumping on the bike at speed too (though in cyclocross you already have your shoes on!) Running up hills: no problem, in fact the more running in a race, the better I am relative to other riders. But the wet grassy corners and giant ruts of mud everywhere have required me to up my game lest I crash more often than not, or worse yet, take someone else out. Thankfully taking a tumble in cyclocross usually means a soft landing, though embarrassingly often in front of a crowd of cheering fans.


Not so gracefully negotiating a corner. (photo Jim Ley)


The imfamous Herne Hill "hurdy-gurdies". (photo Jim Ley)

The races last about an hour with anywhere from five to ten laps of the course to complete. Add in a mass start with up to 100 riders and the first couple of laps are usually quite chaotic. But as a flat-out 60-minute training session, you couldn't ask for a better workout. By the end my quads are burning and my lungs bursting, but I always finish with a smile on my face.


A typical race start. (photo LondonCycleSport)


Jumping on and off the bike. (photo LondonCycleSport)


The mud flies! (photo LondonCycleSport)

Surprisingly, I've managed to pull off some good finishes in my London Cyclocross League races so far, though after a disappointing 4th place last race -- 38 seconds behind 3rd place and all of that lost in the first lap -- I can see I need to work on my starting position and effort if I want to improve. The women usually race with the main group, so call-ups (being placed in the front few rows) are rare. It just means I need to get to the start line earlier and hold my place aggressively so the late-comers can't push their way in front of me. With a hard first 30-60 seconds to maintain my position in the group after the gun, I'm hoping to keep from getting caught behind slower folks. Starting near the front also means I can stick with some faster wheels longer to take advantage of the draft through the open parts of the course. Time will tell how this new tactic works for me!


Sometimes the bike takes a beating. (photo Jim Ley)


But often the rider does too!

The speedy P3C and the Hed wheels that were worth the wait

The weather's gone from beautiful and sunny and almost but not quite too hot the past couple of weeks to cool and rainy today, more typical English summer weather I suppose? Given a hard couple of training weeks including a 165km ride on Saturday, I've felt a bit blah the past couple of days. So I figured I'd blog about my new (used) TT bike to help pick up my spirits. It's a 2006 Cervélo P3C with a Powertap Pro+ in Hed Jet C2 60mm rims. In short, more carbon fibre than I've ever seen in my life, and easily the most bling bike I've ever owned.

It's funny to reflect on how my bikes have evolved since I did my first Try-a-Tri on my old mountain bike back on Labour Day weekend, 2003. After that race, I was well and truly bitten by the tri bug, so I set about finding a "real" road bike and ended up with a circa 1988 12-speed Italian roadbike knock-off that I picked up for $100 at a secondhand sports store. I replaced the drops with tribars and managed to rig up the downtube shifters to the aerobars, though I couldn't get up any hill over 5% without standing due to its 53/39 Biopace rings and 11-24 cogset. Still, it did the trick for the next two summers and even saw me through my first half-Ironman. Alas, it's been sitting in my parents' shed ever since I left Canada and though I've been resisting for a while, I've finally given in to their wishes to just get rid of it. My sister will probably sell it at a garage sale for $50...

The trusty old 1980s "Finelli"


When I moved to Holland in 2005, I bought another old steel roadbike, this time a Batavus, as my daily getabout, stuck some flat bars on it and used that for the first few months of bike training until I found a secondhand 2002 Giant OCR for €400. With clip-on aerobars and a nice female-friendly saddle, I rode that Giant into the ground for the next 10,000+km, including a trip to Lanzarote where it got lost on the way for three days, all kinds of races from sprints to 3/4-Ironmans, and even a city criterium on the cobbled streets of Utrecht. It was finally replaced by my Cervélo Soloist Team a year ago, and after riding that for a few months I realised that the OCR is actually just a bit on the big side for me. So with the addition of the Fuji track bike cum fixie last Christmas into the overcrowded bike room, I knew it was time for the OCR to go. With sadness I sold it for £180, trashed Rolf wheels and all, where it was parted out by an enthusiastic Bike Radar bike flipper -- hopefully the frame has gone to a good home!

2002 Giant OCR


Once I knew I'd want to tackle an Ironman -- and coincidentally decided that I was finally a "good enough" cyclist to get a nice new bike -- I figured I'd better get a proper TT bike. The mid-priced and solidly engineered Cervélo P2SL fit me like a glove, so I picked up a new old stock in beautiful anodised black when home on vacation in the late summer of 2007. The difference in speed was immediately noticeable, as it had 650c wheels which allowed me to get quite a bit lower and more aerodynamic. It got me through a number of races including Ironman Germany and with some secondhand Hed Deep wheels it was going to be my IM Lake Placid bike this year.

2006 Cervélo P2SL with Hed Deep wheels


Which brings us to the P3C. Jim found the right-sized frame for a great price on ebay, and once we won the auction and picked up the bike, I set about transferring over all my bits from the P2SL. After that, it was just a matter of waiting for my Hed wheels to be built with the Powertap Pro+ for the bike to be race ready. And frustrating as that wait was, it was well worth it as this is by far the fastest bike I've ever ridden! After three weeks of tweaking the bars and stem and saddle, all the while hoping my legs would remember what it was like to ride in that low TT position enough to regain their power, last weekend it all finally came together.

2006 Cervélo P3C


Hed Jet C2 60 rim with Powertap Pro+ hub

With a 30km run in my legs from the day before, I set off on what I thought would be a ~150km/5-hour ride on a more or less flat course, the goal being to cycle at Ironman watts with a few harder intervals thrown in. The wind was pretty strong but to my surprise it never felt like a headwind unless I was literally riding straight into it; at every other angle, I felt like the wheels were being pushed along like a sail. I kept looking down and seeing speeds between 34-38km/h while barely hitting 150 watts, something that would be unheard of on my regular road bike. When I caned it along at 200 watts for 30 minutes into that direct headwind, I managed to hold 36km/h! Later with the tailwind it was an effortless 45km/h as I overtook cars in the towns I passed through. Finally home 5 hours and 23 minutes later, to my amazement I had ridden 165km in 5 hours flat of riding time.


All that shiny gridded carbon

No doubt that Ironman Lake Placid is hilly but that one long ride has done more to boost my confidence for the race than any ride has in months. I've started to taper this week, easing back on the high volume though keeping up the intensity, and my last big race rehearsal ride this weekend on reasonably fresh legs should yield similar if not better results. I've got half a mind to find a last minute 100 mile time trial if only they'd let me have a late entry...


A few more shots of the P3C and my setup:


Profile Design bars, nearly infinitely adjustable


Nice narrow profile for the wind