Yeah. Thanks Coach Kris for that John-Madden-like command of the obvious. "Holy Crap" was his expert analysis of the Ironman St. George bike course. That's the triathlon equivalent of "Boom. He's a really big pass rusher." Obviously, I'm just yanking his chain. I'll need someone who knows what they're doing to get this flat lander prepared for a mountain stage to be followed by a marathon.
But in addition to Coach Kris, I have another secret weapon that I'm going to roll out later this week. She now has crank, fork, seat post, saddle, wheels, brakes and cassette installed. And what's more I got to do it myself--well mostly myself except where my ignorance cried out for help--at the Cycling Valhalla known as Shama Cycles under the tutelage of Phil Shama, bicycle customizer extraordinaire.
He may be having second thoughts about letting a two-left-handed, all thumbs, wannabe back in his sanctum sanctorum, and he may never do it again, but I am so thankful that he is tolerating my questions and showing me the ropes. If true business is built on relationships, I know which bike shop will be getting my dollar for all the tires, tubes, bottles and assundry items one needs to purchase over time.
I feel like the sorcerer's apprentice--learning a trade for when this law stuff peters out. It was fascinating to fit together all the shiny new components and to marvel at the amount of technology that -- let's face it -- goes into a toy -- a play thing for the well-heeled professional competing for the "ultimate prize."
Then we ordered some special bars, carbon pedals and carbon bottle cages to finish her out on Wednesday when I'll try my hand at installing the SRAM Red derailluers, shifters, and cables. **drooling here**
Phil --who is also an extraordinarly knowledgeable bike fitter--also did a preliminary fit.
The 49 cm, all carbon, road frame fits like a glove. And it weighed in at . . .
Yes, that's less than 1 kg for the frame. Any lighter and we'd be talking about some theoretical, subatomic anti-matter that has negative mass.
Now . . . this climbing rocket of a bike, plain black carbon with red accents and bar tape, needs a name.