Chris Perkins has been given many nicknames. And a guy with
his numerous qualities[1]
will be given many more endearing or sardonic ones I am sure. However, I have
yet to coin a suitable nickname for Chris. Until now.
Yet None of It Works
When I began riding with the HCD, and met Chris, many called
him “Coach”. That became awkward as soon as we began training at PH. Coach
Livingston didn’t like the confusion it caused in the studio or on the road. Attempting
to regain clarity, he tended to put us through the physical or virtual ringer too
often. So I quickly stopped using his name in vain. I went with “Perk” for a
while. It was simple enough. Rolled off a West Texas sun starched tongue easily
enough. It also suited a guy with a penchant for espresso as well. It just
didn’t seem to convey the same creative genius spawned by one’s riding skills,
heritage, stature, or secret affinity for cartoon fairies. A man, cyclist, and
friend with Chris’ character, prowess, and appreciable traits deserves a
befitting nickname.
Riding Personality
and Presence
If you ride with someone long enough you begin to note
unique things about their personality and presence. Over past year I have
ridden more times and miles with Chris than anyone else. Ever. So my
description of Chris’ riding personality and presence has been forged by
personal observations several times over.
The first thing I notice about Chris is that he looks “solid”
on the bike; particularly on his Firefly as it’s a perfect steely match to his “stout”
build. Let’s be honest: he’s no Michael
Rasmussen. Since he’s thinned up a bit this year, no longer encumbered by a
spare tire, his knees to hug the top tube while he pedals instead of flailing
out like two huge ham hocks. He has created a smooth, steady, and predictable
pedal stroke that instills confidence to those who ride beside him or on his
wheel. Heck his presence in our peloton even makes some shout out profanities
at passing motorists or mouth off to annoying VOP members.
Another thing I’ve noticed is that he is becoming an
increasingly efficient cyclist. He has accomplished this by sticking to his assigned
ride metrics each and every time. His meticulous adherence to them reminds me
constantly of the boxer’s credo: “Plan your work. Then work your plan.”
If you pay close attention[2] on our rides, you will notice that Chris is always pedaling. Up hills, down hills, cresting hills, and on the flats. He rarely, if ever, coasts. I’ve heard him curse. Sometimes when his power meter reads <150 watts. By constantly pedaling, he has stored up vast amounts of energy that he taps into whenever he needs or wants. The rest of us can too.[3] This leads me into the last characteristic and ultimately to the way I came up with his new nickname.
Have you noticed Chris has become a little more “judicious”[4]
about the amount of time he spends up front? Since I like to ride beside him, I
often get to hear his thoughts regarding the “equitable distribution of time in
front”[5]. Because he is more aware of the efficient use
of his stored up energy, he has now become more concerned about giving everyone
the opportunity to “learn proper peloton etiquette”[6]. “Thanks for being so thoughtful in my
development as a cyclist.”[7]
That’s a feigning tactic used by greyhounds, thoroughbreds, and
more appropriately, a prizefighter. Effortlessly they float in and out of the
competition, responding to each move with an equaling counter. Then, in the
last minute, with a flurry of activity and unexpected energy, they hit you in
the mouth with two jabs and a roundhouse punch to snatch victory from your
grasp. Chris has become a rider who doesn’t need to win the insignificant
sprints or climbs, but he’s still there, always in the mix. Then, when it
really counts, having mastered his energy output throughout the day, he’ll turn
it on with a burst of power and will sustain it until he’s free of the chase.
Why Do I Feel Like I
Was Just in a Fight?
For those of us less athletically gifted, with full-time
jobs and mouths to feed other than our own, cycling often becomes a battle. We
struggle with motivation, time commitments, fitness and weight levels,
technology malfunctions, and mechanicals. That battle continues into the rides
themselves. Retrospectively, most ride memories evoke a sense of competing in a
boxing match, with the physical efforts required to complete the ride
representing rounds of the match.
Because of the afore mentioned attributes, I usually feel
like I’ve been in a 12 round fight after riding with Chris. Time and time again
he is always there. Strategically waiting for the moment that inevitably occurs
on every ride. Based on the route, we know them well enough to predict when and
where they’ll come. For example, any Aussie will include plenty of suffering on
Spicewood and/or the three climbs on 360 South. No matter how strong I feel on
a ride, I know Chris will try to dig deeper than me. He seems wired for the
showdown. Any showdown.
Wait For It …
So my nickname for him is: The Main Event. Or Main Event. Or
M. E. Or M.E.n (where n=the number of times when something he’s
accomplished becomes the defining moment of the ride).
A few thing things about the Main Event that are analogous
to Main Events in Boxing:
- It has the most buzz surrounding it since it is generally the most prestigious match on the card. All promotion, advertising, and enthusiasm generated are by the Main Event itself.
- It’s something everybody wants to see. While some of the under card fights might be interesting, the Main Event is what everybody hangs around to witness and experience.
- It always happens. Traditionally, a Main Event takes place as the final match of a title-match-tournament in boxing. It’s inevitability hovers over every site. When it starts, people stand, light bulbs flash, and voices hit a crescendo.
- As with most sporting events[8], improved sightlines and ticket prices increase the closer you get to the action. You got to pay the price if you want to see the Main Event.
- (And finally) The winner of the Main Event commonly receives a pimped out championship belt for his herculean effort.
[1] His untrimmed hair turns into a curly reddish afro,
has connect the dot freckles, calves the size of oil cans, an accounting degree
from UT, three kids, a lovely wife, four bikes, a mild obsession for all things
and guys that wear Rapha cycling gear, and unceasing wit and humor are only but
a few choice material elements for a nickname.
[3] Just not as many times.
[4] ticked off
[5] beast of burden that he’s become
[6] Rule V it and
get their a$$es up here.
[7] Horse cuss!
[8] unless you are attending a UT men’s basketball game
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