I've tried all manner of provocation lately. I tried to pick a fight on behalf of Gordon Wadsworth with gentlemen Kansasracer, Nathan Wadsworth, to find out who would be the greater Wad. I called out Will Leet as a Jan Ullrich lookalike. On Strava, I made blatant attempts to rob a KOM via bogus tailwind and car drafting from local good-guy Strava champion, and I called him out in my (failed) attempts to do so.
Sheer and utter niceness.
Nathan Wadsworth and I are now friends on Facebook. (I literally called him a no talent buttfuck over here.)
Will Leet embraced his inner Jan Ullrich.
Noah encouraged me on strava, said something like "go get em next time" and gave me "kudos" whatever that is.
It's like walking around a friendly midwestern town, assaulting every passerby on the street with a big, floppy rubber chicken, and having them hug you rather than retaliate. I'm forced to face the hard truth that really fast guys - like, the fastest ones - are the nicest people.
Maybe it's all the miles. Endorphins, as the happy drugs they are, just pouring out of these dudes' brains. Maybe it's just the sort of person that pursues pain on purpose. Contrary to what you might think, it's hard rile them up.
But I'm committed to this, and for good reason.
Not just for my own entertainment, no indeed, though that's worth mention I guess. I'm spending a lot of time at my desk these days, and I could use some drama to liven things up.
But also, in a greater sense of the world at large, I think there's an existential battle at stake here, something that basic physiology has never resolved. For the sake of science:
There's no shortage of Gordon Wadsworth quad pictures floating around the internet these days. Indeed, a quick google search (and make sure you've got your safe search enabled, google users) and you've got more Wadsworth quad pictures on page one than you might get Kim Kardashian Booty Memes (also safe search). His very name informs where his power comes from. He's got multiple NUE titles, a stars and stripes jersey, 3 maillot pistachios, blah, blah blah. In a word, strong.
Will Leet, on the other hand, might rhyme with feet and resemble Jan Ullrich, but as the founder and leader of the local calf club (for which my application for enrollment has been waitlisted), well, he happens to have calves the size of Gordon's quads. He's well on his way to Cat 3 state champion status. And as a firsthand witness to Will's riding (for a few hypoxic fleeting moments every Tuesday) I can confirm he's no punk bitch either. And he happens to have a stars and stripes kit of his own:
Trouble is, there's a basic obstacle here in that they simply don't ever show up at the same time in the same place. Gordon is a mountain biker. Will, a roadie. Will, just got himself into the new hotness of a Pinarello Dogma F8.
It's sort of like trying to determine who would have been superior if Hulk Hogan had ever fought Mike Tyson. They simply never showed up in the same ring at the same time. (Tyson, you fucking coward!) The tragedy is that they're both way, waaaaay past their primes now, and we are left with little more than the hypothetical. It all makes me very sad.
So how are we to know? It's like we need a race which is equally tough on a road bike vs mountain bike. Longish, but not too long. Like, in the 3 hour range or so. It'd have to have some flat terrain, but also some climbing. Make that a lot of climbing. And it'd have to be early in the year, so as not to disrupt their otherwise packed racing schedules with what is really an exhibition of sorts for us, the masses, just so we can know. Calf vs. Quad.
Winner gets a nice little jersey.
Am I just stirring the pot, here? Starting a fight that doesn't need fought? Or is establishing this once and for all a thing worth knowing? For science.
Put it on your calendars.
Demand the truth.
Up, up, up.