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Several blokes have posted their impressions of the alleycat:
Eli also put his professional skills to good use by mapping the various routes our little group took around the city during the race.
Eli and I pick our way through the crowds at Point State Park. It's hot. Really hot. Really, really hot. A group of people surrounded by bicycles have congregated under a stand of trees near the fountain, and we swing around to join them. Five dollars later I have my manifest, and we standing around with a group of friends plotting the course. The rules are simple -- there are five neighborhoods listed, each with three checkpoints. You've got to go to four neighborhoods. The rub? Only one checkpoint in each neighborhood is manned. It's up to us to figure that out on our own.
We quickly decide that Lawrenceville would be pared from our journey. The first two checkpoints were close enough to 40th Street that if, if, one of those were the One True Checkpoint we would be in good shape for Bloomfield, but the third checkpoint was on beyond Stanton Avenue, and that would mean an excruciating climb. No thanks. So we plotted our course:
1. Oakland
2. Shadyside
3. Bloomfield
4. East Liberty
There was a contingency plan for Shadyside and Bloomfield. If the Shadyside checkpoint ended up being the Ellis School, we'd break over to Bloomfield and then get Ellis on the way to East Liberty.
Soon enough the organizers gathered us 'round, and instructed us to leave our bikes at the top of stairs by the fountain and walk down to the fountain. Hands on the fountain wall, we awaited the signal. The cool mist felt good. I wish we could stay here.
"GO!"
Click-clack, click-clack as we ran toward the steps (I was happy I had made the swtich to clips and straps and could wear tennis shoes). I found my bike in the mess, took off running and mounted cyclocross style, bouncing along with the pack through the grass, over the old foundation of Fort Pitt. Yelling and screaming cleared the sidewalks for us, and the pack of 50 or so riders surged into the roads downtown, halting traffic.
The pack quickly splinters as we leave the park. We stick to our plan, and make it over to Forbes Avenue. I haven't ridden Forbes in a long time, and I can't quite remember the road from uptown to Oakland. I brace myself for the worst, expecting a large hill. Traffic lights split our little pack even further. Apparently, at some point, I lost my nerve to cut through an intersection and nearly got hit by Joshua, who was expecting me to continue on. Oh well. Once past Duquesne University, I settle into my pace, watching someone roughly half a block ahead of me. Forbes rolls through uptown, gently. I've caught the rhythm of the traffic signals, and I rarely have to alter my cadence. The stretch of road into Oakland is the hardest. The hill isn't steep, and even that long really, but on such a hot day, with the pace as it in such situation (faster than the usual commute), dealing with traffic of several other roads funneling into Forbes, it's not something to look forward to.
Traffic is light, and I enjoy the last bit of flat as I work my way over to the right-most lane. The hill is short (relatively), so I don't let up much, alternating between sitting and standing. Traffic is backed up at the traffic signal at the crest of hill, so I stand and accelerate through the maze of stopped cars. Soon enough I'm through the intersection and on the flats of Oakland. First checkpoint -- the Frick School on Thackery and Fifth. I weave up and across Forbes, cut across Bouquet, and ride the bus lane on Fifth for a block. Turning up Thackery, I'm happy to see a girl standing on the sidewalk, bike at her side, handing out scrabble pieces. Up to O'Hara Street, and I'm on my way to Shadyside.
This was the easy part of the ride, and I tried to take advantage of it by pushing my pace a bit. I was riding alone at this point, though I saw at least two people a few blocks ahead. The checkpoint at Winchester Thurston was empty, so it was time to make a decision -- cut across Morewood to Bloomfield now, or continue to the Liberty School on Ellsworth. I was already headed toward Ellsworth, so on to Liberty I went.
Good choice.
I picked up my scrabble piece (why can't all the checkpoint voluteers stand in the street so I don't have to get off my bike!), and backtracked a bit to South Aiken. On to Bloomfield.
I couldn't decide what checkpoint to hit first. I finally decided to stop at the Immaculate Conception school first, which was only a block off Liberty. Traffic was again light, so I pushed up the slight rise on Liberty, cut over just after the old movie theater and found myself in the mayhem of a fair and road construction. The checkpoint was empty, so I made my first mistake of the race -- I confused South Matilda and South Graham. I cut across Friendship Avenue, through the park at West Penn hospital before I realized my gaffe. I ended up on Penn Avenue in Friendship, cursing my bad decision, and headed back toward Winbiddle. I spied two other racers (on track bikes) up ahead, so I accelerated a bit, and was happy to see a volunteer on the corner of Winbiddle and Coral.
I followed the two fellows back up to Penn, and while they pushed ahead of me (bigger gears, I told myself), I thought about what to do next. One more set of checkpoints in East Liberty, with the further from the finish being Reizenstein school. A portion of Penn Avenue was closed through Penn Circle, so the most direct line was out. I saw the pair in front turn left on Negley, and it looked like they were going to check out the checkpoint at Peabody high school (which was only blocks from the finish). I followed suit.
The Peabody checkpoint was visible from East Liberty Boulevard, and it was empty, so we continued along the Boulevard to Reizenstein. The third checkpoint was only a block or two away from Peabody, but it was far enough from Reizenstein that it wouldn't be worth taking that risk. So on we went.
Up and down, up and down on East Liberty Boulevard, and soon enough we were picking up scrabble pieces in the school's parking lot. One of the volunteers mentioned we were among the first to arrive, but with no set order, who knows if some folks had skipped the East Liberty stops entirely. The pair sped off ahead, and I was now riding with another fellow on a track bike, and we hogged the lane back across the Boulevard. He turned right on Highland, while I took my chances on Negley. Turns out it wouldn't matter.
I cut across traffic on Negley and hopped on the sidewalk in front of the Union Project -- the finish line. My track bike cohort hopped up about the same time, and we Alphonse and Gaston-ed it for a moment or two as to who would take 11th place. He finally obliged.
12th place. Not bad. I was the fifth track bike to finish, and the first track bike was actually third overall (quite a surprise, actually). The course favored geared bikes, with loads of mostly flat roads and only one climb. The good news? I took second place in the luck-of-draw Scrabble score contest. For my troubles I got a t-shirt and a water bottle, more than making up for the measly entry fee.
Did I mention it was hot? I didn't notice it as much when I was riding (though sweat was pouring off my head), but when I finally stopped at the Union Project, I was fairly certain I was going to burst into flames. Total water consumption for the roughly 40 minute ride? 110 ounces (one large Camelback and several large glasses of water at the finish). And even after another 50 or 60 ounces later in the evening, I still had a headache that night.
Note: I'm entering a domain better left to experts, but I think the ramifications of this Supreme Court decision will be felt here in Pittsburgh.
Awhile back, I mentioned a case coming before the U.S. Supreme Court regarding eminent domain -- they power of a government to take private property for "public use" development. Today, the high court ruled in favor the New London government, allowing the city to take private property (even against the wishes of the land owners) for public development. Their argument? A local government knows what's best for local economic development. Of course, who is first beneficiary of property taken via eminent domain? The private developers. Justice Sandra Day O'Connor was clear about this in her dissent:
Any property may now be taken for the benefit of another private party, but the fallout from this decision will not be random. The beneficiaries are likely to be those citizens with disproportionate influence and power in the political process, including large corporations and development firms.
My politics are pretty hard to pin down, especially when viewed within the red/blue lenses most folks like to wear. I may lean toward big C Conservatism, but this decision makes me uncomfortable for rather libertarian reasons -- I'm just not comfortable with the idea of a government having the power to take private property for "economic" development. As O'Connor pointed out, perhaps many years down the road, those who were displaced will feel the positive economic effects of their government's action, but those private developers who gain business will always be first beneficiaries (I hear those trickle-down economists arguing already -- "but the development will create jobs!" My response? Why not just randomly raze and rebuild parts of the infrastructure every few years to create more jobs?). And of course, those families being displaced by the New London government will probably not be enjoy the development, since it will include a hotel, an office park, and a health club. Looking out for the best interests of the citizens indeed.
The City Paper has posted the fixed gear article on their website. Enjoy my crumbs of wisdom.
A week or so ago, I was contacted by a reported from the Pittsburgh City Paper to talk about fixed gear riding here in the 'burgh (the paper was running a series of articles about bicycles to coordinate with Bike Pittsburgh's Bike-Fest). She asked the usual round of questions ("Why do you do this? Do you have other bikes? What's it like riding in traffic?") and I did my best to get across my rather odd reasons for riding a fixed gear bike year 'round. Several times during the interview, I was asked if riding a fixed gear was "punk rock." I responded, well, maybe, but I'm not, as a happily married father of one who owns a house, really punk. I guess I do see riding a fixed gear as a subversive activity (heck, just commuting on a bike these days is kinda subversive), but I thought perhaps a weekly entertainment rag wasn't the place to wax philosophic about such things.
Anyway...the article isn't available online yet (the site is updated on Thursdays), but perhaps I'll post the link in a fit of self-promotion when it becomes available.
With a tip o' the hat to Moon....Dahlia Lithwick gives an unprecendented view into the decision-making process of this nation's highest court.
Maclin Horton and I seem to share the same dilemma -- we can't finish a book. I have the best of intentions -- I have a stack of things that I've started but yet to finish (I find a way to justify this, however. I remember a professor I had who would typically read ten or so books at a time) -- but few actually get finished. Like Horton, I typically spend my reading time reading journalism and blogs. I squeeze that time in the early morning, before the family awakes, and during lunch at work (where I'm probably seen as anti-social). Some nights I try to read a bit before I go to sleep, but, after the bike commute, chasing the boy around the backyard for a few hours, and, sometimes, climbing, this is nothing more than a noble intention as I quickly drift off to sleep.
I also found that Horton and I share similiar work experiences:
I’ve always had trouble concentrating, and almost every aspect of my life seems to encourage that fault. My job involves technically demanding tasks which demand extended concentration and yet requires that I be available for interruption at any moment. Comparing notes on this with a co-worker, I found that we had each arrived at a similar state: that even when there is no interruption or distraction present, the constant expectation of it makes concentration extremely difficult.
Howard Zinn, in the latest issue of the Boston Review, examines the long history of American exceptionalism. Critics of the neo-conservative foreign policy agenda of the current administration often forget (or are ignorant of) the rich tradition of exceptionalism that the United States has. This is hardly the first time in our history that a president that waged war in the name of democracy and liberty. Zinn writes:
American exceptionalism was never more clearly expressed than by Secretary of War Elihu Root, who in 1899 declared, "The American soldier is different from all other soldiers of all other countries since the world began. He is the advance guard of liberty and justice, of law and order, and of peace and happiness." At the time he was saying this, American soldiers in the Philippines were starting a bloodbath which would take the lives of 600,000 Filipinos....
Bush’s national-security strategy and its bold statement that the United States is uniquely responsible for peace and democracy in the world has been shocking to many Americans.
But it is not really a dramatic departure from the historical practice of the United States, which for a long time has acted as an aggressor, bombing and invading other countries (Vietnam, Cambodia, Laos, Grenada, Panama, Iraq) and insisting on maintaining nuclear and non-nuclear supremacy. Unilateral military action, under the guise of prevention, is a familiar part of American foreign policy.
Zinn also points out that while many of Bush's critics are on the left of the political spectrum, exceptionalism is hardly a conservative practice. Progressives and liberals, notably Woodrow Wilson and Teddy Roosevelt, were not afraid of waging war in the name of freedom. Alternately, there are plenty of conservatives who shudder at the current direction of U.S. foreign policy, from isolationists like Buchanon to, well, curmudgeons like Wendell Berry.
And of tangential interest, Zinn's discussion perhaps offers another perspective on the on-going discussion of pacificism and just wars on Gideon's site.
Velo News analyzes why the powerhouse European cycling squad can't seem to generate big wins from its star cyclists. Case in point is this year's Giro d'Italia winner, Discovery rider Paolo Savoldelli, who was a great disappointment with T-Mobile, but proved his mettle by coming back to take maglia rosa this year. Further fueling speculation about mis-management at T-Mobile is that fact that the team may have three riders who could challenge Lance Armstrong at the Tour de France this year. Jan Ullrich, Armstrong's closest rival, has yet to really race this year, though he is acknowledged to be the team's leader for the race. However, Alexandre Vinokourov and Andreas Klöden could challenge Ullrich's position as leader. Klöden finished on the podium last year when Ullrich faltered, and Vinokourov has performed well thus far this season, winning Liege-Bastogne-Liege. The lack of a clear leader for the Tour could hamper the chances of another rider preventing Armstrong from leaving the sport on top.
There's been nearly too much stuff going on to write coherently about any of it. So, I'll merely provide some quick hits...
I've basically dropped out of the pacificism discussion on Gideon's site. I'm still not sold on either side of the debate (just war v. pacificism), but Caleb Stegall makes a good point:
I've written elsewhere about the "discipline of place." "It is the idea that to suffer one's place and one’s people in the particularity of its and their needs is the only true basis for finding love, friendship, and an authentic, meaningful life. This is nothing less than the key to the pursuit of Christian holiness, which is the whole of the Christian adventure: live in love with the frailty and limits of one’s existence, suffering the places, customs, rites, joys, and sorrows of the people who are in close relation to you by family, friendship, and community–all in service of the truth, goodness, and beauty that is best experienced directly. The discipline of place teaches that it is more than enough to care skillfully and lovingly for one’s own little circle, and this is the model for the good life, not the limitless jurisdiction of the ego, granted by a doctrine of choice, that is ever seeking its own fulfillment, pleasure, and satiation. The Puritan heritage of America has long chafed against this discipline as it necessarily limits one to a small field of action in a world with seemingly little hope for eschatological fulfillment. Thus have American Evangelicals historically pined after their great mission of 'giftedness' and 'calling,' forsaking that foolishness of the Gospel of our Lord which has ever lain at their doorstep, in need of nurturing care."
Maybe burning all this time trying hash out morality in what is an amoral space is a waste of time. I am not, and will doubtless ever be, directly involved in the governance of citizens. Perhaps I simply need to concern myself with practicing peace within my own community and let things spiral outward from there.
After a brief discussion with a few co-workers about evolutionary theory, and it's place in Christian theology, I found myself wondering something -- if I subscribe to the literary perspective on the creation story in Genesis, does that mean that the Fall is nothing more than metaphor? And, how does evolution (and, more to the point, the fossil record) fit with that literary theory? If there wasn't death before the Fall, how can we explain the fossil record? So I started down the rabbit hole with my father-in-law, and we shared some links, that I'll pass along here.
Here are two articles from the American Scientific Affiliation:
Space and Time in the Genesis Cosmogony
And here's a post by Maclin Horton regarding this thoughts on the dilemma these questions pose.
All that said, I've only read the Horton post, so I've got nothing further to say. For now.
And finally, Keith has an open invitation to join the dialogue regarding Catholicism and postmodern Christianity. Interesting stuff.
There has been a long discussion happening at Gideon's blog about pacificism, just war theory, the current action in Iraq, and faith. While I find myself pulled toward the pacificist position, I've yet to read enough to formulate an informed position on the matter. Currently in the reading hopper are essays by Stanley Hauerwas and Dietrich Bonhoeffer's Cost of Discipleship, and the next gathering of our church's philosophy "club" will focus on the just war theory and pacificism. I've been thinking about these questions:
1. Pro-war advocates generally see armed conflict as a way to administer justice. The war in Iraq is good because the Baathist leadership was cruel and unjust to the citizens of that country.
Understood.
But what about Sudan? The U.S. has called the government's actions there "genocide," yet our leaders have allowed the discussions to languish in the United Nations. Where's our sense of justice here?
2. Caleb Stegall, in the discussions on Gideon's site, advocates the need for the understanding of the amoral space that war and the administration of justice reside within. While I tend to agree with the premise of Caleb's argument (both just war theorists and pacificists are looking for morality in a place where none will ever exist), his conclusions make me shiver a bit:
It strikes me that neither the right nor the left understand (or admit) that war takes place in an amoral space where civilized people bound to moral codes must behave immorally. For this, both are contemptible. True pacifists have integrity, as do the Colonel Kurtzs and Jessups. But their integrity is cut from the same cloth; that is, from a general denial of the tragic nature of life and order. Both are intolerable because neither can face up to a reality in which violence must be done, but civility--the conditions of being human--must not be annihilated in the process. It is unfortunate that the neo-con/neo-just-war advocates are our best hope for a new martial class and code (which has to be unabashedly masculinist and patriarchal) that aims to produce civilized killers who are willing and able to risk--and often sacrifice--their humanity so that we can have ours. However, as should be apparent to anyone listening to Bush/Neuhaus/Novak/etc, just war theory is just as entangled in the pursuit of moral purity as is pacifism. The truer martial traditions from Augustine to Washington to Lincoln knew "just war" was not just or moral by any ordinary definition.
3. It's my understanding that we are called by God to be counter-cultural. We are to think and act differently than the rest of the world. Pro-war types often argue that Christian pacificists in the United States can say this only because we have armed police officers protecting our right to be counter-cultural. Historically, however, we see Christians working non-violently in rather counter-cultural situations, more often than not effecting the change they desired.
Hat tip: Eli
Coffeeshop Turns off Wi-Fi on Weekends.
[Owner Jen] Strongin said that the five-year-old cafe added free Wi-Fi when it seemed their customers wanted it a couple of years ago. It initially brought in more people, she said, but over the past year “we noticed a significant change in the environment of the cafe.” Before Wi-Fi, “People talked to each other, strangers met each other,” she said. Solitary activities might involve reading and writing, but it was part of the milieu. “Those people co-existed with people having conversations,” said Strongin.But “over the past year it seems that nobody talks to each other any more,” she said. On the weekends, 80 to 90 percent of tables and chairs are taken up by people using computers. Many laptop users occupy two or more seats by themselves, as well. Victrola isn’t on the way to anywhere; it’s in the middle of a vibrant stretch of shops and restaurants on Capitol Hill’s 15th Ave. It’s exactly the kind of place that you want to sit down in, not just breeze through.
There has been an interesting news story flying under the national radar: recently divorced parents in Indiana cannot teach their Wiccan beliefs to their son, according to a local judge. Apparently, Wiccan is not a "mainstream" religion, and because the child is enrolled in a local parochial school, the judge has decided that the disparity between the belief system is not good for the child. Since the belief system at issue here is Wiccan, and not Christianity or Catholicism, few people have caught wind of the story. Get Religion, however, has found that this case is important to people of all faiths, and I agree:
Religious liberty is only as strong as the rights of miniorities. Take away the rights of parents to advocate their own faith to their children and the next thing you know you’ll have evangelical kids forced to sit in school classes that openly attack the faith taught in their homes. Wait, that’s happening already, isn’t it?But the point remains the same. Parents have a right to pray with their kids and even preach to them. If Christians — even very conservative ones — want that right they should defend that right for others.
Christians should be appalled that a judge has attempted to define what mainstream religion is, and what belief systems are appropriate to teach children. While many evangelicals promote the idea of teaching Christianity in public schools and further shrinking the separation of church and state, they often too short-sighted in their goals. The Christian Church is a terribly complex beast, and denominations and churches regularly split over issues like singing Psalms or women praying aloud during a worship service. Certainly, most of them believe in God, and believe that Christ died for our sins, but the similarities often end there. Government should not be in the business of telling us what belief systems are valid.* Isn't this what Kuyper fought against?
* At this point, many will argue "but what about a faith that promotes the sacrifice of innocents? Well, faith should not infringe upon the rights of others. certainly the slope here becomes slippery, but it is one we must tread nonetheless.