Riccitello

Bike shorts that are too short. Bike shorts aren’t supposed to resemble hot pants. They’re longish for a reason. When they’re too short you chafe. Looking sexy at the expense of rug burns on the inside of your thighs is not a fair trade off to me. It also bothers me when people fold up their bike shorts to make them shorter. When I ask people why they do this they tell me that it feels cooler . . . as in temperature. How’s a centimeter less of bike shorts going to cool a person off? Only vain people fold their bike shorts up, or wear short bike shorts.

Vain people. Posers bother me. Our sport has a lot of posers. They latest statistics show that a huge number of triathletes get into the sport simply because they want an excuse to show off their body.

Any fart that isn’t mine. I just thought I’d throw that one in there. I don’t know why, as much as I fart, that other people's farts bother me. Maybe it’s some kind of primal thing. Like when a dog marks his territory. Or it could just be the smell.

Recumbents. Cycling’s not supposed to be comfortable. I saw a recumbent the other day; it was just two wheels with a Lazy Boy recliner bolted to the frame.

Bike seats with holes in them. As if not being able to produce wood after a 100 mile ride isn’t a sign that you’re a wuss; a saddle with a hole in it only publicly confirms what a wuss you really are. Deal with the limpness.

People who buy (and then wear) clothes with company logos on them. Why would a person pay way more than they should to advertise for a company that gouges them on the price of the clothes that they wear? Companies should give away clothes that have their logo plastered all over them. And why would someone pay $50 dollars for a big Nike swoosh sticker to put on the back window of their truck? I’ll put a swoosh on my truck if Nike pays me $50. This is why Hind (shameless plug) clothes are so cool: totally functional clothing at a fair price, and a nice discreet little Hind logo.

Tandems. A tandem is usually ridden by a dysfunctional couple (not limited to the same sex) that feels the need to ruin the ride of perfectly functional individuals.

People who blow snot without making an effort to not get snot on half the people they ride with. There’s nothing worse than someone else’s boogie on your arm.

People who warm up at races on a turbo trainer. I can understand this if there are no roads to ride on. However, this seems to be a disturbing trend, even when there are plenty of nice roads to warm up on. People just want to be seen looking good. These are people who usually are not seen during the race. I remember one of my first triathlons. I was very intimidated by all the studly bodies, being the small, nondescript person that I am. I wondered aloud how I was supposed to compete with these studs. A good friend told me, "Everyone looks good warming up." I tell myself this before every race.

Tongue earrings, or tongue rings, or whatever they’re called. Why someone would purposely pierce his or her tongue is beyond my comprehension. I once bit down on a sunflower seed, and the shell went halfway through my tongue. For a while, I thought about leaving it in there. It looked kind of cool . . . NOT.

The Clydesdale/Athena division. I’m pissed. I once had a discussion with one of the Clydesdale people at a USAT Board meeting. Why isn’t there a division for those of us men who are 5‘6" and under? It’s just as much of a handicap to be short as it is to be heavy. I understand the purpose is to attract all types of athletes to our sport. But most people see it as a chance for them to do something they were never able to do in regular age-group competition: place in their age group. I know a guy in my hometown who ate his ass off to get up to the 190 pound Clydesdale weight. He won the overall National Championship in the Clydesdale division. How wrong is that? I’ve heard stories of people putting lead weights in their shoes, so they could "make weight." 190 at weigh-in, 170 on race day. I don’t blame it on the athletes, though. I mean, if you want to create a division for fat people, then get that weight limit up there. What is this 190 pound stuff? I have asked numerous times why the weight restrictions are so low. I know tall skinny people who are 190. Heck, when Paul Huddle was 7th at Ironman, he weighed more than 190. I know quite a few good pro women who weigh enough to race in the 135 pound Athena division. I won’t name names, though, because women, for the most part, are kind of sensitive about their weight . . . even when they look good. To be a Clydesdale you should have to weigh over 300. I’m talking Daryl Haley. You should have to tip the scales at 190 to be an Athena. They’ll never do it, though. It’s just a huge marketing scheme. The Clydesdale Company wouldn’t have anybody to market things to if they raised the weight to what it should be. I’m eating up to 190 when I retire, baby. Professional Clydesdale. I hope they don’t up the weight limit till I have a shot at 190.

Cell phones. Mostly just cell phone with obnoxious rings. Set that thing on vibrate, for cripes sake.

Women drivers . . . for obvious reasons . . . most of which I will not get into. I live with a woman, after all. I will say this, though. Look behind the wheel of every super-sized SUV, and you’ll see a woman driving. Whose bright idea was it to put women behind the wheel of a rolling fortress? As if it wasn’t bad enough before, now that their lives are not in danger, they think even less about driving. I’m not afraid to say it––I’m scared.

Litterbugs. People who throw their empty gel packets and bar wrappers on the road, without so much as a second thought. How can a person do this with a clear conscience? How hard is it to put these wrappers in your pocket? Why do people throw their cigarette butts out the car window? Last time I looked there were still ashtrays in cars.

People who don’t bring their own food and money when they go on a long ride. It’s a good thing Clif Bar is a sponsor of mine. I’ve bailed out more people. Why would you head out for a five-hour ride with no food or money? And why is it that the people who bonk twelve times on the ride are the people who bring no food or money? If it weren’t for that Hippocratic oath thing, I’d be leaving some hungry people out in the desert.

On a similar note, halfway through a killer seven-hour ride with Mike Pigg, we entered into a discussion about what would be the ultimate food to bring you out of the worst bonk known to man, if you only had a buck to spend. I reckoned I would spend my money on a Big Gulp full of Coke, no ice, and buy a couple of little chocolates with the change I had left over. A Big Gulp was cheap back then. Pigg scoffed at my unhealthy choice of "sugar water" as a bonk squelcher. I asked him what he would buy with his dollar. He told me he would buy a pint of milk with his dollar. At the time Pigg was heavy into the 40-30-30 diet thing. You could imagine my reaction. I told him I wasn’t waiting on his ass, while he was suffering from a return case of the sugar bonk, and hawking up phlegmy milk loogies. He told me I was wasting my money.

As circumstance would have it, Pigg bonked about 80 miles into the ride after having tapped too far into his reserves on a killer 12-mile climb. We pulled into a convenience store 45 miles from town. To my amusement, Pigg bought a pint of milk . . . nothing else. I bought two Cokes. I drank one, and put one in my pocket, in case I blew later in the ride. We left the store and Pigg proceeded to dial up the pace to 30 mph. Five miles later he was going 27 mph. A couple of miles after that, he could barely pedal. I made that sumbitch stare at that Coke in my back pocket for the next 20 miles before I gave it to him. To this day, that was the tastiest Coke he ever drank. He was amazed at the recuperative powers simple "sugar water" had. I didn’t teach him much, but I taught him a few things.

People who jump in the lane next to you, when the whole rest of the freaking lanes in the pool are empty. It never fails. I’m swimming short-course in a 50-meter pool, at the far end of the pool. I have the whole pool to myself, and am enjoying the solitude, and lack of turbulence. A swimmer comes on deck, and proceeds to get in the lane next to me while 20 other lanes are empty. What is that? Must be my magnetic personality.

Lots of other things bother me, but I feel better now.