Ride Review: 2012 Pivot Mach 429 Alloy

Uhhhffffsshhh.  A bike review?  Really?  What's next, a race report?

Hey!  Ask, and ye shall receive. (Part 2 can be found HERE)

Oh man this bike kills.  And not just because it's mine.  Not just because I'm awesome.  Not just because I ride like a boss (I don't).  As a matter of fact, this bike kills because it inspires.

The reviews don't lie.  Numerous in quantity, precise in praise, the proverbial shit-storm of awesomeness that follows this bike around is easy to find and hard to deny.  How can SO MANY people say SO MANY nice things about the same bike?  I'll tell you how: It's all true.

2012 Pivot Mach 429

Overlooking Palos Verdes.  Catalina Island lurks in the clouds.

Quick Specs:  I went with the XT build.  Full XT with the Fox RP23 Kashima coated shock and the the Fox Float 29 120RLC Fit fork (with the Kashima coating).

Weight: 28.32 lbs. minus bottle and seat bag.

The XT group is clutch.  Smooth, smooth, smooth.  The direct mount front derailleur is nice and will make future adjustments simple.  The shifting is really sharp and, coming from the road with a full Ultegra set-up, reminds me of the quiet precision that I have grown fond of when using Shimano.  A relatively low "clack" is all that's heard as I find the needed gear.

And now, I present to you: The DW-Link.

This linkage owns.  Many people will comment that this link is the most successful suspension system in the UCI Downhill World Cup.  I don't know about any of that.  I just know that it works well, descends well, and that it makes climbing that much sweeter.  The pedal-bob barely exists, even on the steep, gotta-hunch-forward climbs (of which there are many on the Peninsula of Palos Verdes).  I never had the opportunity to test out the climbing settings on the fork and shock.  Leaving the settings to "trail" mode, I climbed and descended well and with compliance.

Compliments of the best bike shop in San Diego: ITSA Bike Shop

Descending is a real treat on this bike, given that this bike is considered to be a "trail" or "cross-country" rig.  What you really have is a super compliant, super plush bike that feels light.  This bike can be whipped around like a fully-suspended 26" racer.  It just feels lighter than it is.  I have yet to test the fork and shock on their respective "descending" settings, but my next trip to Malibu will rectify that problem.

"29ers are stupid," said the 29er hater.  "Those wheels are so big and flexy.  They probably just wobble around like warble-warble.  And they make your climbing suck.  Dumb!"

"You're dumb.  I hate your face, and this bike looks sick."

Seriously though, wheels are wheels, flex is flex, and I am not about to regurgitate the bike industry vocabulary in this blog.  This is for using classy, sophisticated vocabulary like, "Your face looks like testicles."  There ya go.

I'm 6'1, 175 pounds, and this bike is money.  Size Large.  It fits well, it climbs well, and Lily (oh ya, I named this bike) descends with a stiff, balanced, controllable feel.  I cannot wait to race this bike in some 50 miler, 6 hour, 12 hour, or 24 hour events.

I will continue to update this page after I make a trip out to Malibu and Noble Canyon.  The runs in these areas will put the bike through a true SoCal test and give everyone a better idea of how much I suck at writing "industry-friendly" reviews.  But I did use the word compliance.  And stiff.

11/27/2012

This bike continues to soar and kick ass and make me understand that I totally suck at riding bikes, specifically mountain bikes, down hills.

I feel cliche and more cliche typing this but honestly, the DT Swiss 29r 350 CUSTOM W/DT 470 rims do a severe amount of dominating.  I really like the way they roll and the way they complete the whole package.  For stock wheels, with a guy who asks a decent amount from a build package, they really tie the whole deal together.  Not only that, but you can feel safe that they're not going to wobble.  I'm not the smallest guy, but they keep the bike tight.

Hey Mister, You Got the Stuff?

What is this? A drug deal?


"Hey Mister, you got the stuff??"


This is a new student.  I call him "Big D" or "D" for short.  D is pretty rough around the edges, but a funny kid.  When I told the kids we would have a raffle on Wednesday, the whole place went off.


"Mister, Mister!  What do we get?!?!  What do we get?!?!?!?!"


"What do YOU get?  Nothing, actually.  You can earn something.  But you most certainly do not get anything."


"But Mister, you just said we be getting a raffle with stuff, so what do we get?!"
"Cheetos??"  "YA HOT CHEETOS!!!"


"No, no.  No hot cheetos.  You all get sick when you eat them and then wonder why I tell you not to eat them."


And so it goes.  I've been teaching in the city for only a year, but the pattern is clear (as it relates to tangible items and students): 


-A failing school system has given generations of kids a crap education with high teacher-turnover, broken buildings, barren libraries and poor leadership/administration, blah blah blah.


-In order to rectify this, LAUSD feels it fit to give these kids LOTS of stuff: Ipads in the classroom, MacBooks in the lab,  newly stocked and wonderfully organized libraries, and of course, field trips to USC.


(Through an informal poll, all of the incoming 9th graders that I've met have been to USC at least twice in their young lives, in order to make them "college ready").


It comes as no surprise that, when confronted with a raffle, these kids expect to GET something.  Even students who come from Santee and Jefferson High School (two relatively rundown schools) do not expect to earn things.  They've been trained, taught, and accustomed to getting things and, through no fault of their own, now expect stuff.  They don't necessarily expect education.  Instead, they expect the benefits of being in this particular educational system.  And when I said raffle, they heard "prizes."


So you could imagine their shock when I postponed the raffle one day.


"But Mister, you said it was today.  You said that."


"That's true, I did say that.  But based on your performance and attitude yesterday, our raffle will be postponed.  We will still have a raffle, but we will not have a raffle until all of us as a class earn the privilege to have a raffle."


"Mister that's not fair, you lied."


Liar, Liar, You Suck at Teaching


Now, I've had students call me "liar" before.  I can't quite explain the feeling of intense, mind-numbing rage that welled up inside, but it would be somewhere between getting fired and getting rear-ended.  My students know well enough that the word "liar" is never to be used in my room; never to be directed at a student or teacher.  It does not exist.  At the same time, it is crucial that we do not enter into the "liar, liar" game.


"We do not call each other liars.  I am not lying.  We will have a raffle when we have earned it."


I Love Wall Balls, Not Ben Wah Balls


As I surged up from my squat and released a medicine ball into the air, I couldn't help but let my mind wander off.  "Wall Balls" as they are called in CrossFit, is a movement in which the athlete stands facing a wall,  does a full squat with a medball, throws it into the air so that it gently kisses the wall at a much higher and fixed point, and catches the falling ball again while simultaneously squatting down.  This motion is repeated until satisfaction, frustration, delirium, or failure.  


It's rhythmic.  Beautiful in it's simplicity yet awkwardly sadistic.  The ball can drop anytime, sure, but who wants to pick that thing up?  So you go up and down.  And the rhythm...


Like cycling, wall balls have a rhythm.  The repetition allows the mind to wander.  You still suffer, of course, but sometimes you're out of body, hovering. Suffering and hovering.  


Suvering.


Down.  Up.  I'm not a liar.  Down.  Up.  Why would they call me a liar?  Down. Up.  


The release is just that: a release.  But like the weight of the medball, all of the anger, frustration comes back to you, often times, with greater weight than before.  Gravity is a bitch like that.  


Best Raffle Ever


In one word: professional.  I'm increasingly blown away by how professional these young 14 year olds can act.  We held the raffle.  4 students won.  12 students did not (small summer school class).  The fact that those 12 students congratulated the others (without me asking) and avoided complaining, whining, sobbing, and yelling (with me asking), makes me hopeful for this year.  Good things are on the way for these kids.


With proper coaching, these kids have shown that they can act like scholars, like future members, productive members, of a society.  It's a good day.

These Fucking CrossFitters....

Profanity???  Fo reeeeaalllsss???

No but seriously.  These fucking people.

I moved to Lomita and, naturally, felt the need to fill my schedule up with more stuff.  It's as if I wasn't already going to be busy enough come the first day of school on August 13th.  And now: some demographics.

Lomita, for reference, has roughly 20,000 people.  My former town of Alpine has roughly 16k.  The difference here being that Lomita is not isolated, as is Alpine.  Don't say I never taught you anything.  If you're from San Diego, stop asking me about Lomita.  I just told you.  Don't interrupt me anymore.  I kill you.

So I'm in the South Bay, and it's a bit rough.  I have no friends to speak of in Los Angeles, no acquaintances around.  A few friends in Long Beach, but they're busy getting ready for a wedding.  So as to avoid the bitter mood swings of a 5-year-relationship-gone-poof, I saddled up on the C'dale and hit the roads of the South Bay.

My explorations post-Palos Verdes took me down Hawthorne Avenue.  After fifteen near-sideswipes I pulled into a small strip mall containing what looked to be a mattress store, a Sees candy storefront, and something about Code 3. It was a bright as hell, hi-viz yellow sign advertising a crossfit gym.

I returned on another day in the Danger Ranger.  Naturally, I decided to go into the mattress store.  Who likes sleeping on a couch anyway???  This guy!!! (For the record, I spent 42 days sleeping on a couch.  Ya.  Classy)

I walk on out like a boss having purchased a brand new Serta mattress.  Firm, supportive, soft, sensual (that's Serta, ladies). "Oh hey! there's still a crossfit gym next door."

So I went into the Sees candy shop.

And here's the beautiful thing about truffles: they really get your brain moving. Dark Chocolate Chip, Cafe Au Lait, Milk Chocolate, Dark Chocolate.

I got a handful of truffles, bagged them and stepped out.  With a smile on my face and chocolate in my mouth, I skipped around the corner and saw a bunch of grunting, sweaty people that looked really fucking good.  Like, "we lift lots of shit and have fun doing it" good.

Pop a truffle, "Hmmmm, I'm pretty fucking skinny still." Truffle "This cycling shit is cool, but I'm REALLY fucking skinny."  And that's how it happend.

Starting crossfit has brought me right back to my first group ride experience on the SDBC A ride.  On the climb up to Stud Loop, explosion in the legs like I've never felt.  Never.  Limp.  Lifeless. I thought, "Damn, a couple more weeks of this and I'm going to be FLYING."  Yahuh.

And, as if to remind me of my ironic existence on this planet, my first workout at CrossFit Code 3 was much the same.  It went like this:  "Do a bunch of push ups and sit ups and other shit, but do it for time.  You know, go fast."

Push ups?  I know I'm a cyclist, but ya sure, whatever, bring it.

And then my arms locked up.  I've never fell flat on my face before that first day. It's kind of like when one of your sarcastic, punk ass high school students calls you out in front of the class,

"Hey Mr. Smith, solve this problem that you're completely unprepared to solve while I make snide remarks to my friends."

Slam.

My first trip to the Fiesta Island World Championships https://www.facebook.com/pages/Fiesta-Island-World-Championships/103294853037699 was a pseudo-religious experience, coupled with suffering and busted egos.  I had never gone that fast on a bike before.  After 10 minutes I realized we were averaging 28 mph.  Are you shitting me?  You can actually do that on a bike?  At 10:01 my heart exploded, my lungs came out of my mouth, and 50 other riders literally pedaled away from me, as if I dropped and anchor in the road.

Dude.  Fiesta is like, soooooo fast.  Who can find me?

And just the same, my first real WOD involving pull ups.  Oooooomf. 

Does this thing go any higher? 

"Come on Self, you can do at least one before you jump on the bands.  Quick, no one is looking.  Show yourself what's up."

And, like someone being strangled to death, I flailed and flailed.  A few desperate kicks sealed the deal. The three coaches walked back into the corner of the gym where I was in eyesight.  I released my death grip from the bar with a quickness and landed back on my feet.  I was defeated, and mildly embarrassed; staring at my arms and chest in confusion, as if a visual pep-talk was all that was needed.

3 months later and I'm doing pull ups like I've never done, Olympic lifts (albeit, like a goon), some running (why run if you're not playing soccer?), and other weird workouts I most certainly would have never done on my own.  Best money I've ever spent.

Douche Bag Cyclist: "Ya, whatever dude.  Does it make you better at cycling? I saw you got dropped at Fiesta last time you were in San Diego.  Pffft"

Fuck no, it's not supposed to.  And shut your mouth.  I had to close those gaps 5 times before I popped!  However, over the past 3 months I can honestly say that I'm not worse for wear.

I haven't put in one week over 7 hours since April.  I race the Telo Street practice crit every tuesday night.  I can sit in, but always explode if I go off the front.  Over the past 3 months I've kept a close eye on my power, and I'm still able to push out 367 - 375 watts during a 5 minute test.  Not my max, nothing to really write home about, but it speaks to the power of at least being FIT.  At least doing SOMETHING.

The fact that we're constantly squatting at the box doesn't hurt (I'm told it's the one functional workout that will sorta-kinda translate to cycling in some capacity, if not a small one).

Look at those tiny arms!  Look at that baby chest!  Gone, I say!

So basically the test is this: up my cycling to 7-10 hours a week of INTENSITY and maintain 4 - 6 hours a week of crossfit.  This will work well with my teaching schedule in the fall.  Will it lead to some podiums?  We'll see.

Fucking CrossFitters

Lomita. That's fun to say. Loowww-meeee-tuuuuh

Oh man!!!  You readers must've yearned for this post!!

Lomita is where I am now.  Through a series of intended events (a break-up, not wanting to live in Long Beach, my getting re-hired with a sweet bonus and pay raise, realizing living alone is kinda rad), I am now in this cute little pocket community.

There's a lot that happens in this little area, and I'm finding the proximity to Torrance, Palos Verdes, and the adjoining beach communities to be a pleasant, and cleaner change from Long Beach.

Teaching is interesting.  As certain things in my life changed, I found a great deal of stress, or maybe the feeling of judgement, or maybe the anxiety of performance, leave my being.  It's been a refreshing change, and my students responded positively with a great push through the end of April to now.  Those freaking kids, man.

"Hey Mr. Smith, you know what tastes good with ice cream?"

"What?"

"Jagermeister!"

"Aaaaand you're done."

So, aside from the obvious missteps, over-shares, and abundant swearing, my students are starting to take school seriously.  I really think that they can tell that us teachers care.  Legitimately.  Yes, it has been a short school year, but I have been harping on these kids for the entirety of this year, despite the following:
"I hate this class."
"Fuck this shit."
"Get out of my face."
"Shut up mister."
"I'm getting out of here!"
"I hate being in sped, I hate this shit!"

But they love me, sort of.

And guess what??  It's almost 'cross season.  :-)

Bell Lap

It's that time of the year on campus where things get crazy. It's like the bell lap in a crit: a slight lull in action followed by a crazy surge. You go from 5th wheel, sitting in and feeling great, to being swallowed-whole by racers playing a different, and perhaps smarter, card.

November was a bit crazy but Thanksgiving break, coupled with a series of minimum days for parent conferencing, gave me a false sense of security. All of my paperwork looked good, my lessons were solid, and things felt organized.

That's until you get back.

The first week of December was full-speed ahead. Like a punch in the throat, new kids just showed up. 10 students exited the school before break and, when we returned, 10 new students had taken their place. 7 of these students had IEPs. Paperwork death. But, we are what we are. And in that vein, I decided to complain more, eat more, and ride my bike less.

My complete lack of fitness was confirmed by the fact that my front row call-up at the district championships proved useless after the first lap. First lap, heart rate pinned, thinking to myself, "you know, it would've been nice to at least get on the trainer after those long days at work."

I thought about all the weird stress eating I was doing. All the weird foods you pack into your belly when things go wrong, grades get messed up, papers get lost, or when the people living in the apartment above you start acting like idiots. All of those things. They all equal stress. And stress equals cookies. And noodles. And chicken.

I'm still not sure what will come of special education in my future. So as to make things specialized our government created different sections of an Individualized Education Plan (IEP) in order to make sure that teachers personalize each student's education. The problem is, there is no budget to hire the many teachers needed to make education a personalized experience. I have 31 kids on my caseload. There is not enough time in the day to give each student what they need, much less to give these students personalized attention to develop individual skills.

And so all of that means that racing bikes is pushed back. It's just a silly hobby, but at times, competition of any sort is a necessity. I need to feel like I'm training for some sort of athletic endeavor in order to get through these work slumps. I feel devastated at times because, though I'm lucky to have this job, it is this weird American "work 'till you drop" mentality that is slowly eating away at my spirit. We'll see how things end in June.

Where does the time go?

I found where the time goes. It goes out the window.

After getting hired by Synergy Charter Schools to build their RSP program at the brand new Quantum Academy High School, the only mantra I heard by the principal and board members was, "there are never enough hours in the day."

So true. So true.

But you know, we be racing now. And I'm actually getting better. The key to it all is keeping it in your brain. I know the big thing in cross right now is to "freak out" as is popular on the East Coast. I'm the exact opposite: go as fast as possible while still keeping the brain open. When I keep the brain open, the first lap is perfect:

Keep it upright, try not to put too many people in the tape, find the group, go go go.

I try to get a quick head count sometime during the first lap just to see how I fell in the hustle. It sounds lame, but top 16 through the first few corners works for me thus far.

The middle laps are all about finding the tempo, hitting the lines, staying off the brakes, and looking way ahead for the next group to latch on to.

Last lap: redemption. Always redemption. Get it back.

I love cross because it's all about me: about what I can pour into an effort, about how well I set my bike up, about my mental choices, my toughness, and my focus.

People have their niche, and 'cross is mine.

redemption

The Excitement and Danger of the Charter

So it has been awhile, and mainly because a lot has changed since the last post. No one reads. It's okay, this is slowly turning into a chronicle of my life just in case I go crazy enough to lose my memory.

I'm now residing in Long Beach, and it has been quite the move. What a fantastic city.

I've been training pretty hard, and fortunate enough to live in a cycling friendly city (though it is completely lacking in the 'mountains' department).

Interestingly enough, my offer with Celerity was rescinded within a few weeks of it being initially offered.

Remember that whole, "no job with Celerity without CSUDH" deal? That came back to haunt. CSUDH was utterly ineffective in processing my paperwork and, when Celerity called to check on my status, a lady in the department actually said that I didn't exist on paper, and was not even in the program!!

So, yea, they let me go. Unfortunately, it was the way they took back their offer that stunned me. Within a few weeks of being offered my spot, I get a letter with 2 sentences, effectively saying that we're taking back your offer. Unfortunately, instead of saying "we are rescinding your offer," it was instead phrased as, "we are RESENDING your offer."

So you can see where I would be a bit confused. I figured that after driving countless hours and delivering a fantastic demo lesson that I would be at least given a phone call. I can't expect to be hired if i'm technically not even a student eligible for the program (although, if they would have waited a few weeks, they would have seen the opposite). Still, the lack of respect shown to me left my feelings hurt, but it also left me with insane amounts of motivation to show the error of their ways.

After moving to Long Beach, I was given a hot tip about a job from a very grateful professor, and I went after it. Hardcore. I was in the principals face over the phone, via email. No one could shake me. After a series of interviews, I was offered ANOTHER special education job.

What?!?!

So now we got this sweet new pad and I've got myself a sweet new job (though there are still copious amounts of paperwork left) and things seem a bit more stable. very nice.