The cure for Fredulism
#1
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The cure for Fredulism
Racing.
The heart of the Fred problem lies in Fred's ignorance of how much he sucks and the resultant self-loathing that follows the realisation of that ineptitude.
The average American wouldn't bother getting their heart rate above 170 even if there was an orgasm involved, so the nascent roadie is superior indeed in the context of the general public. And this is where it gets dangerous. Because it's one thing to know you're better than most of the average ******bags out there and another entirely to think for a split second that you might actually be any good at this sport.
I've been there myself, perhaps, on the brink. I'd just done the Death Ride the month before and had plenty of long-mileage riding under my belt that season. People thought I was nuts for how much I rode, and I took it to heart. I started to think I might be pretty good at it, because how many people can finish the Death Ride? Then I jumped into a local race. Showed up, got my one day license and lined up.
I went OTB on the second climb. Shattered the illusions. Damn, I'm awful. And fat.
You'll learn to love to hate yourself, acquire a borderline eating disorder and obsess over expensive and fashionable gear because you know it's the only thing you can put on your bike that won't be an embarrassment.
Freds and Fred apologists fail to accept and embrace their inadequacy, and this is their fatal flaw. They start to think that either they're good enough at this or that it doesn't matter if they're not good. And from there, it's only a short jump to justifying that helmet mirror and getting excited when Nashbar has club-cut sleeveless jerseys on sale.
Get to it, Freds. https://www.usacycling.org/events/index.php?race=Road
The heart of the Fred problem lies in Fred's ignorance of how much he sucks and the resultant self-loathing that follows the realisation of that ineptitude.
The average American wouldn't bother getting their heart rate above 170 even if there was an orgasm involved, so the nascent roadie is superior indeed in the context of the general public. And this is where it gets dangerous. Because it's one thing to know you're better than most of the average ******bags out there and another entirely to think for a split second that you might actually be any good at this sport.
I've been there myself, perhaps, on the brink. I'd just done the Death Ride the month before and had plenty of long-mileage riding under my belt that season. People thought I was nuts for how much I rode, and I took it to heart. I started to think I might be pretty good at it, because how many people can finish the Death Ride? Then I jumped into a local race. Showed up, got my one day license and lined up.
I went OTB on the second climb. Shattered the illusions. Damn, I'm awful. And fat.
You'll learn to love to hate yourself, acquire a borderline eating disorder and obsess over expensive and fashionable gear because you know it's the only thing you can put on your bike that won't be an embarrassment.
Freds and Fred apologists fail to accept and embrace their inadequacy, and this is their fatal flaw. They start to think that either they're good enough at this or that it doesn't matter if they're not good. And from there, it's only a short jump to justifying that helmet mirror and getting excited when Nashbar has club-cut sleeveless jerseys on sale.
Get to it, Freds. https://www.usacycling.org/events/index.php?race=Road
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#7
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I appreciate the sentiment and the tongue-in-cheek humor (even as tired as it already is, this forum seems to love repeating the same jokes), but I get on a bike to get away from other people. I haven't yet found a good enough reason to betray that motive.
#9
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I agree. I have just registered to compete in my first race and I am only just beginning to comprehend the depth of my recent fredness.
#10
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#12
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This post just proves my point about the Aholes that partake in this sport. Not all roadies, but you are the stereotype of what I speak of.
I can tell you this, if you ever had the balls to call me a Fred on the road, I'd catch up to you at the next light (cuz I'm a lowly Fred and would need the light to do so) and I would punch you in the throat.
I can tell you this, if you ever had the balls to call me a Fred on the road, I'd catch up to you at the next light (cuz I'm a lowly Fred and would need the light to do so) and I would punch you in the throat.
Racing.
The heart of the Fred problem lies in Fred's ignorance of how much he sucks and the resultant self-loathing that follows the realisation of that ineptitude.
The average American wouldn't bother getting their heart rate above 170 even if there was an orgasm involved, so the nascent roadie is superior indeed in the context of the general public. And this is where it gets dangerous. Because it's one thing to know you're better than most of the average ******bags out there and another entirely to think for a split second that you might actually be any good at this sport.
I've been there myself, perhaps, on the brink. I'd just done the Death Ride the month before and had plenty of long-mileage riding under my belt that season. People thought I was nuts for how much I rode, and I took it to heart. I started to think I might be pretty good at it, because how many people can finish the Death Ride? Then I jumped into a local race. Showed up, got my one day license and lined up.
I went OTB on the second climb. Shattered the illusions. Damn, I'm awful. And fat.
You'll learn to love to hate yourself, acquire a borderline eating disorder and obsess over expensive and fashionable gear because you know it's the only thing you can put on your bike that won't be an embarrassment.
Freds and Fred apologists fail to accept and embrace their inadequacy, and this is their fatal flaw. They start to think that either they're good enough at this or that it doesn't matter if they're not good. And from there, it's only a short jump to justifying that helmet mirror and getting excited when Nashbar has club-cut sleeveless jerseys on sale.
Get to it, Freds. https://www.usacycling.org/events/index.php?race=Road
The heart of the Fred problem lies in Fred's ignorance of how much he sucks and the resultant self-loathing that follows the realisation of that ineptitude.
The average American wouldn't bother getting their heart rate above 170 even if there was an orgasm involved, so the nascent roadie is superior indeed in the context of the general public. And this is where it gets dangerous. Because it's one thing to know you're better than most of the average ******bags out there and another entirely to think for a split second that you might actually be any good at this sport.
I've been there myself, perhaps, on the brink. I'd just done the Death Ride the month before and had plenty of long-mileage riding under my belt that season. People thought I was nuts for how much I rode, and I took it to heart. I started to think I might be pretty good at it, because how many people can finish the Death Ride? Then I jumped into a local race. Showed up, got my one day license and lined up.
I went OTB on the second climb. Shattered the illusions. Damn, I'm awful. And fat.
You'll learn to love to hate yourself, acquire a borderline eating disorder and obsess over expensive and fashionable gear because you know it's the only thing you can put on your bike that won't be an embarrassment.
Freds and Fred apologists fail to accept and embrace their inadequacy, and this is their fatal flaw. They start to think that either they're good enough at this or that it doesn't matter if they're not good. And from there, it's only a short jump to justifying that helmet mirror and getting excited when Nashbar has club-cut sleeveless jerseys on sale.
Get to it, Freds. https://www.usacycling.org/events/index.php?race=Road
#14
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Since I'm just another "Ahole" Road Nazi, you'd get to the light to find I'd run it. Being a Fred, you'd stop, feel superior about following the letter of the law, and take a sip from your Camelbak.
#15
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So thats why the guy with the panniers disappeared when I looked back behind me after blowing the red light. He actually stopped. What a maroon.
#16
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Woah, entering a race instead of just posing with carbon fiber bling bikes at the coffee shop in team spandex? Let's not get crazy here. Next thing, you will actually expect me to risk my carbon fiber cleats clipping in.
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Racing.
The heart of the Fred problem lies in Fred's ignorance of how much he sucks and the resultant self-loathing that follows the realisation of that ineptitude.
The average American wouldn't bother getting their heart rate above 170 even if there was an orgasm involved, so the nascent roadie is superior indeed in the context of the general public. And this is where it gets dangerous. Because it's one thing to know you're better than most of the average ******bags out there and another entirely to think for a split second that you might actually be any good at this sport.
I've been there myself, perhaps, on the brink. I'd just done the Death Ride the month before and had plenty of long-mileage riding under my belt that season. People thought I was nuts for how much I rode, and I took it to heart. I started to think I might be pretty good at it, because how many people can finish the Death Ride? Then I jumped into a local race. Showed up, got my one day license and lined up.
I went OTB on the second climb. Shattered the illusions. Damn, I'm awful. And fat.
You'll learn to love to hate yourself, acquire a borderline eating disorder and obsess over expensive and fashionable gear because you know it's the only thing you can put on your bike that won't be an embarrassment.
Freds and Fred apologists fail to accept and embrace their inadequacy, and this is their fatal flaw. They start to think that either they're good enough at this or that it doesn't matter if they're not good. And from there, it's only a short jump to justifying that helmet mirror and getting excited when Nashbar has club-cut sleeveless jerseys on sale.
Get to it, Freds. https://www.usacycling.org/events/index.php?race=Road
The heart of the Fred problem lies in Fred's ignorance of how much he sucks and the resultant self-loathing that follows the realisation of that ineptitude.
The average American wouldn't bother getting their heart rate above 170 even if there was an orgasm involved, so the nascent roadie is superior indeed in the context of the general public. And this is where it gets dangerous. Because it's one thing to know you're better than most of the average ******bags out there and another entirely to think for a split second that you might actually be any good at this sport.
I've been there myself, perhaps, on the brink. I'd just done the Death Ride the month before and had plenty of long-mileage riding under my belt that season. People thought I was nuts for how much I rode, and I took it to heart. I started to think I might be pretty good at it, because how many people can finish the Death Ride? Then I jumped into a local race. Showed up, got my one day license and lined up.
I went OTB on the second climb. Shattered the illusions. Damn, I'm awful. And fat.
You'll learn to love to hate yourself, acquire a borderline eating disorder and obsess over expensive and fashionable gear because you know it's the only thing you can put on your bike that won't be an embarrassment.
Freds and Fred apologists fail to accept and embrace their inadequacy, and this is their fatal flaw. They start to think that either they're good enough at this or that it doesn't matter if they're not good. And from there, it's only a short jump to justifying that helmet mirror and getting excited when Nashbar has club-cut sleeveless jerseys on sale.
Get to it, Freds. https://www.usacycling.org/events/index.php?race=Road
Well written !
#21
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#23
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I also stopped caring about things like matching wheels, etc
#24
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I sense that someone got picked on too much by the bigger jocks and really rough kids in the latter grades of high school...
#25
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I've been ready for you, Fred apologists. Fire away.
You cannot possibly hate me more than I hate myself.
You cannot possibly hate me more than I hate myself.