[right-click for iTunes-compatible download, tap for iPad/iPhone]

(Contains many photos, most of which are public domain or licensed for free use, and footage from Eurosport and NOS Sport.)

In a claim worthy of Chesterfield Cigarettes, Speedplay has asserted that wind tunnel testing has proved its pedals will save you an astounding 33 seconds per hour if you use the four bolt attachment.

There are, of course, the obvious problems with this wind-tunnel derived claim—you don’t ride hour-long time trials; even if you did, you couldn’t ride them a consistent 30mph; even you could, they have hills and corners, and you’re overweight and a lousy bike handler. Then there are cross-winds, other competitors, traffic, mental toughness, etc.

But in this post I will ignore these things. Instead, I want to focus on highlighting Speedplay’s ill-conceived methodology and misleading conclusions.

“…the testing of a single component by itself raises questions as to whether or not the component will perform in the same way when installed on a bicycle and used outside of the tunnel.

With this in mind, we mechanized a life-size, lower-half of a mannequin so the mannequin, rather than a person, would pedal the bike.

Yes, you read that correctly—the problem with wind tunnel tests is that they’re not like real life, so we replaced a real life person with a torso-less pair of mechanical legs. Does its motion churn the surrounding air like a real human set of legs? Are its proportions correct? What about foot position—idealized by biomechanics, or average observed foot position of pro riders? These are questions Speedplay didn’t feel like addressing.

At any rate, Speedplay’s use of de-torsoed legs in means that the results—in the unit-less and not particularly useful form of coefficient of drag—apply only to this mannequin. When this bodiless apparatus is wears shoes with 4-bolt-mounted Speedplays, that coefficient is .237.

However, Biomechanics and Biology of Movement found that “a cyclist on a standard road bike in racing position” has a drag coefficient of 0.78. That 200% increase reflects all the things Speedplay’s disembodied legs left out of their results.

So what appeared to be a small difference in coefficient of drag—2.5%—is actually an all-but-insignificant 0.7%*. And even that minor change requires to you have faith in the reliability of Speedplay’s procedures. Measuring drag coefficient to three significant digits—the finest measure available from the wind tunnel if Speedplay’s videos are any indication—and coming away with a single thousandth of variation invites far closer scrutiny of the study.

Sadly, Speedplay states only that the tests ran for five minutes, at a cadence of 100 rpm, and a headwind of 30mph. Data on number of trials for each pedal design, and variation in wind speed during the course of each trial would be more than welcome, but are entirely lacking.

Speedplay offers similarly little help in saying exactly what “available data” lead them to infer that the advantage to their pedal is “equivalent to the speed gained when switching from a standard front wheel to a deep-profile, aerodynamic front wheel.” The only data I could find using coefficient of drag were from Greenwell, which describes aero wheel advantages roughly two to ten times more pronounced than anything measured by Speedplay in this testing.

So, Speedplay—as far as I can tell, you’re lying to sell more gear. You certainly wouldn’t be the only ones. But I’d hate to stand here casting such aspersions without giving you a chance explain or clarify your findings.

I want to see the precise data behind this test—with detailed descriptions of apparatus, methods, and raw results. I’d also like to know the names and qualifications of those who designed and carried out this test. Finally, I’d like to see what research you used to conclude that, based on the data in this test, Speedplay pedals deliver such marked aerodynamic savings.

My request for this data is genuine. Readers and tech editors alike will tell you I’m receptive to criticism and more than willing publish your response.

*actually, I’m told that the increased surface area of a full-sized rider would make the coefficient of drag an even less relevant than the absolute value I’ve derived here.

The problem is, logic has no place in cycling sponsorships. None. Winningest team in the ProTour? American squad sponsored by an American sportswear company that doesn’t even sell cycling apparel. It’s secondary sponsor? A telephone handset manufacturer that barely produces any phones under it’s own brand in the US. Does any of this make sense? Of course not.

It’s tempting to pin the roots of this nonsense on the old US Postal Service squads, which promoted a domestic American mail service all across Europe for six full years. The squad was then taken over by Discovery Channel, who, other than a few glib commercials, gave zero airtime to the exploits of the team. Money well spent, no doubt.

You’d think things would be better over in Europe, where people at least have a decent grasp of the sport’s nuances. But no: Quick.Step? It’s a flooring company. And nothing sells a smooth, clean, well-laid hardwood kitchen floor like mud-spattered Belgians ricocheting off the hilliest, lumpiest, most mangled cobblestone roads in the world.

Just look at the businesses lining up next season. Footon? First off, the company needs to learn how to use the Internet—the first Google result is from Urban Dictionary, and footon.com, .net and .dk are all similarly unhelpful. If it weren’t for Andrew Hood, I’d have no idea that Footon is (drum roll) a Danish foot-beds manufacturer.

So Denmark + footwear + cycling…what comes to mind? Oh yeah. That’s exactly what a squad that’s trying to shed the image of its dope-laiden past is going for. I’m totally gonna invite these guys to my ProTour race, esepcially when The Chicken himself has said he’s got a top-tier ride for next season, but hasn’t revealed who it is yet.

I don’t want to insist outright that Rasmussen will be riding for Footon-Servetto next season, but a Danish sponsor—when the other big Danish name is spoken for—is pretty compelling evidence.

Then there’s De Rosa/Stac Plastic. In case you don’t read The Economist (article reproduced illegally here), everything in cycling is made in the same East Asian factories, and branding is key to a successful enterprise. So what better name to pair with a high-end classic like De Rosa than “Stac Plastic”. It adds so much to the gravitas, does it not?

Rather than the plastic storage bins or Lego-knockoffs you might imagine a company named “Stac Plastic” producing, it turns out the firm is actually a manufacturer of spray adhesives. I learned this from their totally sweet website (motion gifs? <frame> tags? BALLER.) that—in addition to pointing out their official sponsorship of Team LPR—features not one, not two, but three riders who have failed drug tests in the past two years. Could you ask for better brand representation? I think not.

So on second thought, #TeamGoogle might not be that much of a stretch. The Internet is rife with cycling sites that look like they’ve been optimized for IE 2.0 and that display none of the customization and versatility that’ve become the hallmark of the Modern Internet Venture. If nonsense sponsorship really is the rule in the cycling world, it’s not a matter of if there’ll be a Team Google, but when.

But I’m not swayed by the notion that this is some sort of “new Beginning” for Silence-Lotto. Let’s not forget that Lotto put two riders in the final break of six at Roubaix this year, and was only derailed by Juan-Antonio Flecha’s crash. The tactics at Paris-Tours played very similarly to the rest of the classics, with Lotto and Quick.Step making probing attacks and putting a man in as many moves as possible. Not to take anything away from the Autumn Double, but luck plays as big a role as anything in the one-days.

As for Lotto’s performance supporting Cadel Evans in the Grand Tours, I think it’s been pretty miserable. Everyone remembers the bumbling wheel change that might have cost the Aussie the race, but no one seems to remember that Evans never should have been so isolated in the first place. Jurgen Van Den Broeck was on career form at this year’s Tour, and burned off most of it up the road in early breaks—not the kind of teamwork that regularly puts riders in Yellow.

Cadel’s biggest win—the World Championships—had absolutely jack-all to do with Silence Lotto. Not only was Evans riding on an Australian National team that contained no one else from his Belgian trade squad, but he also profited immeasurably from underdog status, as the Italian and Spaniard Squads battled to control the race.

The timing and determination of his attack, plus better-than-most support from his team is what brought Cadel the win at Mendrisio. While his support of the sponsorship is laudable, it’s almost disheartening to see Lotto flacking Evans’ gold medal as “their” accomplishment. More cycling commentators should go out of their way to point this out.

To wit: blood pressure drugs Telmisartan and Quinapril, diabetes drug Sitagliptin—which could, in theory, protect muscle glycogen stores from breakdown—and the anti-convulsive Valpromide. Of course, the AFLD neglected to mention the name of the teams or riders involved, what hotels they were staying at, how frequently these substances were found, etc., because that might lead to some sort of coherent investigation, instead of just muddying the waters.

However impressive this “therapeutic arsenal” might be, the fact remains that none of the substances are on the WADA prohibited list, and since the AFLD is a WADA signatory, they really ought to be more respectful of the protocols that shuffle substances onto and off of that register. As it stands, the only nod to procedure seems to be a dubious claim that AFLD head Pierre Bordry “signalled” WADA about his findings back in July—somehow, I feel that not how most list amendments are made.

I think it’s pretty obvious—the UCI implied as much in their press response—who’s at the other end of Bordry’s leash, and honestly, I’d be fine with this power-play if AFLD had been methodical and open about their methods. A detailed report, with evidence of what they found and how often they found it, released shortly after the TdF, would be a welcome thing, regardless of political motivation; if more drugs need to be added to the list, or if the UCI really does need to step up their control procedures, I want to see it done as much as anyone.

But a sensationalist, week-long media blitz, aimed right at the media gap between the European road and ‘cross seasons is of no help to anyone—except, of course, the dopers. Stefan Schumacher, one of the first riders picked off by the new CERA test is now using the AFLD retesting as grounds to clear his name. Now that anything “incongruous” is an implicit exception to the rules, who knows how many others will follow suit.

You can be pretty sure it’s going to be followed up by one of these:

It should be noted that in either case, the assertion is obviously ludicrous—Eastern Bloc cyclists were notorious for their wild, aggressive riding despite institutionalized, statist upbringings, and a host of Americans have managed to do quite well in cycling without Uncle Sam paying their medical bills (though back in ‘96, a certain Texan was damn lucky he had Uncle Mike to help him out instead).

I know this is a touchy subject for many, and as a guy who’s been forced to treat his road rash with nothing more than Neosporin, Saran Wrap, and an expired bottle of clindamycin, I can relate. But if a single tweet sends you into a rage, I think you may need to re-examine your feelings on the issue.

Loud, emotional, knee-jerk reactions don’t help anyone, which is precisely the reason they need to be lampooned like this. I roll overexposed mainstream stories into my cycling commentary for comic effect all the time, and I do my best to be an equal-opportunity offender.

You also have the option of not following me anymore, which, all things considered, is probably the best bet. If you’re not willing to take a second to ponder whether or not I’m being serious, there are better blogs for you out there.

That having been said, not everyone needs a pair of Obermayers. Far more burdensome—at least from my tax bracket—are the opportunity costs associated with being a competitive racer. Last summer, when I elected to pursue paid writing opportunities instead of training (and managing this blog), the roughly 10 hours a week I’d otherwise spend on the bike were quite effectively monetized; my least well paying gig was $40 for roughly an hour’s work.

Sure, I was chained to a computer for 12 hours a day (this was, after all, in addition to my day job), thirty pounds heavier, constantly irritated and under stress, struggling with pre-hypertensive blood pressure and a terrible diet—but I was also $12,000 richer. It was (and would still be) an extremely significant portion of my overall income.

Nowadays I’m poorer, happier, and faster. But it sure would be nice if there were some remuneration to reflect the most important societal benefit of a few thousand training miles: my improved health. A tax benefit from the state. A slice of my healthcare contribution back from my employer. Significantly reduced rates should I decide to quit and get my own heath insurance.

I suppose I should be thankful that people are beginning to at least try. From VoMax’s twitter, I got word of this nascent legislation, designed to allow up to $1000 of pretax deduction for fitness-related expenses, including race entry fees and equipment purchases. At first glance, that’s not an insignificant carrot

But the problem with this legislation is that it doesn’t reward people for being more physically active. It incentivizes them to spend money on things that facilitate fitness and physical activity—the same things I had even when I was fat and slow, and that millions of other out-of-shape Americans have gathering dust in a back corner of their garage.

Furthermore, the measure takes self-conscious aim at “rich” activities; hunting, sailing, horseback riding, and—most ominously—golf expenses are all explicitly excluded from the pretax deduction. With no lesser man than John McCain already taking aim at bicycle related “pork”, this thing is screaming for a bike-excluding rider, especially from a country obsessed with reviving its automotive industry.

Politics aside, it’s still tremendously complicated to quantify what being in shape means. Metrics based power output or speed are uncomfortably reliant on natural ability, and susceptible performance enhancing drugs. Awarding a benefit based on hours trained would be prohibitively open to fraud, and the old Body Mass Index standby is a pathetically inaccurate way to measure anything, let alone fitness.

If you think granting government access to more detailed information (blood pressure, percent body fat, etc.) would work, you clearly haven’t been following the news. Similar private sector efforts have met with lackluster support and, of course, are based on BMI. As lovely as it would be, I just don’t see any administrative solution to encourage getting the miles in.

So it seems the only recourse left for hard-training cyclists is to get their money’s worth and really, really love cycling. If I can be considered both a representative sample and a rational actor, the total benefits for a solid season of training are worth at least $12,000 a year.

That ought to make the pricetag on your next carbon wheelset a comparative bargain—even if the government never gets around to paying you back.

Why The Media’s As Guilty as The Bloggers, and Why You Shouldn’t Worry About Either

(Some of the people and organizations covered in this piece have contacted me with responses. I have complied and published them in a separate post.)

Back in 2005, when I started Cyclocosm, I actively avoided using the term “blog”. I used it in the <title> tag for anyone Googling for cycling blogs, but in written correspondence and in speech, I referred to it as a “cycling news website”.

Back then, the mainstream media was all about bashing bloggers. Over a decade after the advent of AOL, it had just dawned on the soon-to-be-endangered ranks of legitimate newsmen that the Internet allowed anyone with a simple technical skillset to publish material. Not only that, but it was instantly available to a near-infinite number of readers—and the technical bar for publication was getting lower by the day.

In response, these few jealous guardians of informational chastity did what they’ve always done: channeled their Victorian revulsion into a few well-placed editorials. As backward-facing and obviously wrong as these pieces were, I didn’t want to be typecast as just another web-based blabbermouth, even if I was (and to large extent, still am). So I highlighted the strengths of being an independent voice—and do to this very day.

Sometime between then and now, a very small number of mainstream blogs became highly-visible, and many of them—egged on by ranks of rabid PR mavens, struggling to justify their existence and unload promotional products—rushed to monetize that readership. But for some reason, it wasn’t until “mommy blogging” that people starting noticing this monetization had completely gutted the reliability of blog reviews; once again, blogs became suspect.

But the “problem” isn’t with blogs—it’s with advertisers. Less than two weeks after starting Cyclocosm, I tore into Bicycling for the very thing that is just becoming a “crisis” in the blogosphere: giving high marks to the people who pay you for ad space. Bicycling isn’t the only offender and is far from the worst (Pez), but with a few exceptions (film, literature), “bad reviews”—in blogs or traditional publications—simply don’t exist outside Consumer Reports.

For the most part, this conflict of interest between reviewer and review reader is necessary. Softball reviews bring traffic, which brings revenue, which lets publications create more interesting and worthwhile features. And that’s not a bad thing; despite the near-endless barrage of cheap shots taken against it, the intelligence of the average reader is quite good at counterbalancing this cartel between manufacturers and publishers. To wit:

the first 6 months of 2009 our referred revenue from cyclingnews.com…has decreased by 40%. During the same period our velonews.com referred revenue has increased by 50%. Mind you, we always run the same ads simultaneously on these two sites… [Competitive Cyclist]

I reported a very long time ago that Cyclingews was dead. Future—who bought CN to run it into the ground—hoped to redirect traffic to BikeRadar.com. Take a look at its landing page from this morning:

Oh—well, there’s always the Road-specific tab, right?

Now look at VeloNews‘ landing page:

The lesson here is that you can only debase yourself so far before the masses give up and go somewhere else. If things like Blog with Integrity and PR Blackout were truly necessary—and not a prop to restore the believability of certain blogs after some obviously suspect reviews—people would have flocked with ovine mindlessness to the new CN, and to BikeRadar. That’s pretty clearly not what happened.

There’s a market for people’s time and eyeballs just as surely as there’s a market for their income, and in both respects, consumers are looking for bargains. If a publication—blog, magazine, news show or [fill in the blank]—can’t come up with reliable, quality content, it will be buried by its competitors as surely as any other company out there.

(Some of the people and organizations covered in this piece have contacted me with responses. I have complied and published them in a separate post.)

Tour of Denmark (29 July – 2 Aug)
Clasica San Sebastian (1 Aug)
Tour of Poland (2 Aug – 8 Aug)

That’s 13 days of racing within 14 days of the end of the Tour—and frankly, that’s too many races. I realize that cycling’s season is long and grueling; even with recently defunct races like Züri-Metzgete and Deutchland Tour, there are a finite number of racing days in which to hold events.

Still, with Grand Tours dominating the schedule, cycling has on-months and off—probably one of the reasons why they moved the Vuelta to September. Now check out this UCI ProTour schedule: in June, there are a mere two events. In August, there are five.

Not only that, but none are run concurrently with the TdF. It almost feels like someone is trying bump the Tour from the public eye without trying to challenge it directly. But who would want to do such a thing? Oh, I don’t know…

I’m not insisting that the UCI is attempting to “retake” the sport with their barrage of August events—like I said, scheduling can be a tricky beast. But if there is some intent behind the UCI’s efforts, I think it’s highly misguided. First off, many who follow cycling, and the entire country of France, are on vacation during August.

Second, it’s not the worst thing in the world for races to run concurrently with a Grand Tour. Certainly, the Tour of California organizers aren’t worried about it, and Catalunya seems to be getting by ok. While the Tour may cast the longest shadow in the sport, it’s not like other events don’t exist—Tour of Austria, for example.

Cramming all these races into the first week in August just makes the UCI look desperate. Wedging events from the second half of the season directly against the tail of the Tour (Poland used to be in September, Clasica in mid-August, and Tour of Denmark didn’t begin in July) makes them a multicolored spandex blur in the racing-numbed eyes of fans.

The classics didn’t become classics by hopping around the calendar to best suit the perceived interest of fans or availability of airtime/newsprint. Objectively speaking, plenty of races have no business being where they are.

Roubaix and RVV have a nasty habit of landing on Easter Sunday (hardly conducive to a day out drinking and yelling) and any bike race slated for February in Belgium is doomed to occasional failure.

Classics became classics by staying put and attracting an audience, developing bigger crowds, better prize money, and the ageless mystique that comes from great riders putting on legendary performances.

The fact is, a lot of bike races aren’t going to develop these things and fail—and that’s not necessarily bad. Missteps allow organizers to learn from their mistakes, increase demand for new races from fans, and free up sponsorship money for new endeavors.

So next season, I’d like to see these races back where they started, preferably with a little blank space around them on the calendar. The UCI may just find that letting its events have some elbow room, and giving fans and journos a chance to get back up to speed pays solid dividends, even if a few races fall by the wayside in the process.