Bike Snob - Anonymous [18]
While cyclocross has deep roots in European cycling, in recent years it has also become a demilitarized zone for Roadies and Mountain Bikers in that it involves dirt and mud but you can use carbon wheels and wear skinsuits. Cyclocrossers range from the dedicated competitor with two identical bikes (an “A” bike and a pit bike) and an endless variety of tires for different conditions, to the rudimentarily equipped minimalist who’s just out to have a good time. However, the one thing all passionate Cyclocrossers share regardless of their age, gender, and approach to the sport is an affinity for all things Belgian. Believe it or not, in the bizarre alternate universe that is Belgium (a land where both disco and mullets are still considered cutting-edge), cyclocross is an extremely popular sport. It’s sort of like curling is to Canada, only it’s much faster. As such, Cyclocrossers here cultivate irritating affectations like calling french fries “frites,” getting deeply into Belgian beer, and pretending to understand Flemish. If you’ve ever seen Breaking Away, they’re exactly like that kid, except instead of speaking Italian they make lots of guttural throat-clearing sounds. When not racing behind a mask of pain, Cyclocrossers can be found standing in mud while wearing knee-high rubber boots, ringing cowbells, munching on pretentious french fries, and drinking $9 bottles of beer they’ve been keeping warm in the hatchbacks of their Subarus.
Why other cyclists don’t like them:
Few cyclists actively hate Cyclocrossers, since cyclocross is something cyclists are supposed to appreciate, and even if they don’t like Cyclocrossers they’re generally afraid to admit it. In this sense Cyclocrossers are the cycling equivalent of Pet Sounds by the Beach Boys.
Compatibility with other cyclists:
Compatible with all types of cyclists except Righteous Cyclists, since cyclocross almost always requires driving.
The Triathlete
While the Roadie generally holds the Triathlete in contempt, the truth is they share common DNA. Actually, that may explain the contempt—Jews, Christians, and Muslims share both monotheism and a bunch of prophets, but that has certainly not stopped them from having their share of disagreements over the years. Specifically, the area in which the Triathlete and the Roadie are most similar is in their ability to reduce cycling to a fitness-building exercise, suck the joy from it, and discard it so all that is left is a desiccated Lycra shell.
But first, it’s essential to take a look at the Triathlete (which, given their predilection for bikinis—particularly the men—can be difficult). The Triathlete is one who partakes in triathlons—timed “races” in which the competitors swim, then “bike,” then run. (You should always be suspicious of people who use the word “bike” as a verb.) Many people even argue that it is inappropriate to consider a Triathlete a cyclist, since in some cases they are merely incidental cyclists who only ride because cycling happens to be part of a triathlon. If they changed the cycling leg to something else, like bowling, they’d probably all be buying bowling balls instead of bicycles. Many cyclists also believe that Triathletes are bad bike handlers, and criticize them for being middling at three disciplines instead of exceptional at one. (If triathlons involved bowling instead of cycling, Triathletes would probably roll their balls in the wrong direction and take out half the snack bar.) As such, Triathletes are regarded with general mistrust, since their amphibious nature leads other cyclists to view them as slimy interlopers.
Which leads me to their aversion to fun. One does not ride, one “trains.” If one can train more effectively on a computrainer indoors than out in the great, beautiful outdoors, then one trains indoors. Also, like the Roadie, the Triathlete will adopt any technique, practice, or equipment option that promises an