On Speed Machines and Time Concepts

A few months ago, Cervélo landed a magnificent marketing coup when Craig 'Crowie' Alexander, until then sponsored by Spanish bike manufacturer Orbea, showed up to race the Half-Ironman Championships with an unbranded P4. He went on to win the race, and the interwebs were ablaze with rumours surrounding his equipment change. Orbeas, which I'll group together with most Italian manufacturers, do look the part, but are typically not believed to be particularly fast designs - a reputation that better befits technically-oriented brands, to which Cervélo is almost a synonym, but which also includes names such as Trek, Scott, BMC, Felt or Specialized - so it was not surprising he'd pick a supposedly much faster frame for one of the most important races of the year. But he didn't race on a Speed Concept or on a Plasma. He didn't pick a Time Machine, nor a Felt DA. Not even a Shiv from the Big S, which turned out to become his sponsor, announced only a few weeks after his 70.3 win. No, he was on a P4, the distinctive downtube features clearly giving away a product from a certain Ontario-based design office...

Now, without a doubt, all recent designs from any of those in the latter list are fast, as in wind-tunnel fast. Their relative ordering is disputable and depends on a number of not-so-well-agreed-upon criteria (just a few days ago, I was reading yet another interesting discussion on this topic on Slowtwitch), but it's undeniable that the proper engine is capable of winning aboard any of those überbikes. Nevertheless, it's still interesting to note that, whenever someone fast is paying for their own bike (or rebadging their sponsors'), they somehow tend to end up with, yes, a Cervélo.

That all said, and while still a fan of their products, I am genuinely considering other options for my next time-trial machine. I currently ride a P2C, which is no slouch by itself, but the bike has had its years - and if I am to put down so much on the line for that one ride in the summer, I want to have access to all the help I can afford. Now, I'm sure that a P4 - or even a well-set P3, for that matter - wouldn't be, just as I argued above, a sub-par performer, but it's got some features missing that I'd really like addressed before committing myself to a new ride. It's precisely the process of electing a new successor that motivates the writing of this post, but I'll get to that in a moment.

First, as most of you already know, I'm switching teams for the next season, joining the fine folks of Magnesium Pur in idyllic Upper Bavaria. Regardless of the other sporting reasons that motivated my move, one major selling point was the team's fascination with all technical aspects of cycling, and in particular, aerodynamics. Wind tunnels tests, airflow simulations, detailed studies on skinsuit design, you name it - a typical team gathering will have bike geeks fervourously discussing airfoil shapes and wheel test results published in the latest issue of Tour. Befitting this level of attention, the team is heading towards a stance of independency with regards to its equipment suppliers. While at first glance one could expect that our performances would warrant sponsorship from different cycling-related brands, this approach is not entirely unreasonable: if we accept that different races have different material needs, and that the best equipment is not always provided by the same company, then remaining "independent" can actually be an asset, enabling team members to cherry-pick components according to their own criteria.

And so I come to my dilemma. While touted as "the world's first fully integrated...", the P4 still requires an external front brake, thus denying itself of a clean, cable-shaven front-end, and its integrated aero bottle design has been ruled illegal by our adorable friends in the UCI. I would also add to the list some compatibility issues with the wider Stinger wheels, but I'm not completely sure what the current status in the latest 2012 frames is. Maybe the new P5 will adress these issues, but as with every new design, I'm sure that will come with a significant premium.

One of the main contenders is Trek's Speed Concept. Not only did the Wisconsin company bring out a wealth of technical data in its praised white paper, Trek happens to be carried by the local shop which will support our team in 2012, and they were quick to offer us good deals on next year's models. I must admit that, at first, I hadn't given it much attention, perhaps snubbing them due to my association of that brand with certain teams and athletes. After dissecting it more thoroughly, though, I can say that their engineering folks did a commendable job. Were it not for, again, a few minor features, it would be an easy choice - the Kammtail foil shape and the smooth headtube lines yield a surprisingly attractive package. But, while perhaps its biggest selling point, some of its integration choices backfire - for me at least. Its proprietary BB90 bottom bracket standard is incompatible with my current power meter; its integrated stem give me no choice but to go with a Bontrager aerobar, and - come on, no horizontal dropouts?

And then, there's the Time Machine. OK, let's be open here: since the day when I first caught a glimpse of her - and that was back in 2004 - my heart was sold. Already then, the early model of the BMC Time Machine had innovative features which only came to be adapted by other manufacturers many years later: notice the smooth, fast-looking bayonet fork, or the integrated stem, for instance. The latest iteration - the TM01, launched just a few months ago - received raving reviews, highlighting its clean looks and integrated features. It adopts an 'open' bottom bracket standard, and its modular stem allows me to pick my choice of aerobars. And, moving away from its former custom-made sizing paradigm - bare frames were then quoted at over ten thousand dollars, trip to Switzerland for fitting not included - and now based on more traditional mold sizes, the price dropped significantly, with framesets hitting the stores for under three thousand euros. Still a truckload of money, but now one no longer has to consider selling the car...

However, and depending on how you read this, it could be a deal-breaker, BMC hasn't released a single ounce of data to support the otherwise exciting features their marketing department is so keen to highlight. Now, Cadel and Raelert are definitively not riding a machine which is putting them in a disadvantage, and I can also understand Styrell's idea that BMC operates like a F1 constructor, refraining from sharing their products' data with the competition, but still, it would be nice to know that at least one wind tunnel agrees with your investment...
- - -
We may be on the brink of a new cold war, at least if you follow the more pessimistic analysis of what has been happening in Iran. The Euro has been hinging on the verge of collapse. Extremist right-wing groups are on the news spotlight every other day. Back in South America, a nation-wide debate is taking place over the construction of a major hydroelectric plant and the ensuing environmental consequences. With different degrees of interest, I've been following the developments in these and other equally relevant stories. But, in spite of it all, I'd rather invest my brain cycles writing about carbon fiber frames costing more than my entire savings - or the combined annual income of a small family in sub-Saharan Africa, for what it's worth.

The idea of making a bid for an Olympic spot next year has been growing on me, perhaps precisely due to its almost intangibility. As I have already noted, I have this inextricable urge to sail uncharted waters, to dare facing the risks. To go for broke. There are innumerous roadblocks and question marks which will have to be addressed, the selection of a new timed-race machine being but a small cog in a much larger wheel, even if a cog that I want to have particularly well oiled. Finding out more about the performances of my adversaries, the likely obscure selection criteria, and my own capability for pulling the ride of my life, all while somehow managing to put together a Ph.D. thesis and finding an economically-viable occupation afterwards, will surely keep my side of things very interesting for the next few months.

It may well be the end of the world as we know it, but I feel fine. Yay!

Something rotten in Aigle

[Note 1: This post is based on a recent commentary to a piece discussing the UCI radio ban.]
[Note 2: Enough of Academia for a while. Time to bring out more cycling pieces.]

Cyclingnews recently had yet another story on the much-debated radio ban issue. While it has received attention from many in the upper echelons of the sport (this piece by Gerard Vroomen of Cervélo comes to mind), I believe that the amateur racers are the ones most negatively affected by the lack of electronic communication - and I say this while wholeheartedly agreeing with all the points presented by my colleagues in the professional ranks. See, a ProTour race will typically have an armada of commissaires ahead of the race, police escort on motorbikes, and a large number of team cars following. If a rider breaks away, or drops back, with sufficient likelihood he won't be entirely on his own across some desolated landscape. On the other hand, and I speak with sufficient experience from events across South America and Eastern Europe, amateur races may sometimes have only one or two cars with race officials, and most teams, if at all, can only afford one car to follow the race. In these situations, the ability to convey a message to your team becomes crucial, lest one is left stranded in the middle of nowhere with over 50km to the nearest village - a situation that happened to me once in Northern Uruguay.

Also, to the argument presented by the UCI, that radios take away from the excitement and tactical unpredictability, I guess this makes even less sense in the amateur ranks, where the performance spectrum among competitors in a typical race is much broader than in the typical ProTour race - I assume the pro field is much more homogeneous, though this may be up for argumentation. Nevertheless. The few amateur teams capable of summoning their riders up front to coordinate a chase and bring back a breakaway group already do so independently of radios; I'd venture to say that the only occasion when the lead riders gain a significant, multi-minute advantage on the (amateur) field is when the stronger riders are riding in it; and would hold such lead independently of exact splits being communicated by radio or otherwise to the peloton behind.

Unfortunately, amateur riders have very little leverage to question or protest such rulings (and don't get me started on the material regulations!), and rely on the voice of our pro representatives in the hope that the concerning decisions will eventually trickle down to the lower ranks. Perhaps it's time the concerned amateurs voice their opinion, if not to the Aigle officials of the UCI, then to the responsible regional and national federations, which could still overturn the ban for the sake of improved racing and safety conditions.

Something rotten in Denmark

Columbia Lake, Waterloo, Ontario. A beautiful, if windy, Autumn afternoon. I took the opportunity of my adviser being half way across the globe to also head out of Erlangen and spend a week with my girlfriend, working from home during my stay.

I actually had the intention of attending a conference in Los Angeles in the beginning of December, which would have brought me to Waterloo a few weeks later. But that didn't follow through, and as I walked back in that sunny afternoon, I figured the reasons, or lack thereof, were worth writing about.

As some of you know - and this is all largely irrelevant to the story at hand, but helps better situate those unfamiliar with my research - my Ph.D. revolves around quantum information theory, with an emphasis on possible quantum optical implementations. One long-standing question in the field is, "what are the minimal resources needed to accomplish a certain task?" - which has different answers depending on which task is being considered. I'm working at answering this question with some particular assumptions on the resources, where the 'task' is error correction - in other words, safeguarding the information being transmitted through a potentially lossy or noisy channel. Anyway. I'm trying to generalise a certain previous result, lifting some assumptions on the resources to better match what is currently experimentally achievable. At first, we thought this would be a fairly straightforward deal - maybe so simple as to have been overlooked by the original authors. As we progressed, we identified a number of roadblocks, and as usual, overcoming them involves developing new tools, or, as we have it, expanding an existing method to other classes of systems. Simply put, I want to expand the result of A. et al, using a generalisation of the method developed by B. et al.

As of this moment, the formal proof is still pending, but I have a fairly good idea of how the structure of the result looks like - and this is what, a few months ago, I intended to submit to the conference. By the time the event came around, I thought, maybe I'd have managed to find the missing pieces of the puzzle; if not, A., B., and other experts on the previous results and methods I'm working with, would be in the audience, and could eventually provide insightful comments helping me put together the definitive solution. How naive of me.

My adviser vetoed the submission. He believes that presenting an incomplete work could give rival groups (more on that in a second) an edge, and they, being experts in the subject matter at hand, could end up arriving at the intended result before we managed to get ours ready for publishing. I countered, saying they could be brought as co-authors in an eventual paper reporting the findings. Nope. "It's probably best not to bring additional people on board the project at this time", his words. As most people in Academia will agree, this is a simple case of protecting our investment, just as any industry will not reveal a new product before its patent is applied for.

All would be well, but for the fact that we're not a for-profit research company. See, my scholarship is funded by the German Research Association (DFG, Deutsche Forschungsgemeinschaft) - which, in turn, is mostly funded by the State, which, as we all know, is kept by taxpayers' money. One could argue that the goal behind sponsoring my research is to deliver some contribution to the people - of the state of Bavaria, of the Federal Republic of Germany, or even of the whole European Community - however indirect this contribution may be. Now, one of the "rival" groups turns out to be from another university distant maybe 400km from ours, and, alas!, they are also sponsored by public-funded agencies - in fact, we have even collaborated in writing some grant proposals together. The other rival group comes indeed from a different continent, but once more, they are also funded by taxpayers' money, and, again, are our 'partners' when it comes to applying to joint European-North American research projects. Am I the only one seeing the irony here?

As I entertained thoughts of throwing the towel a few weeks ago - an activity I engage in, for now, for entertainment purposes only - I contemplated releasing all my unpublished - and sometimes unfinished - results into the public domain. Who knows, there may be another Ph.D. student somewhere, also stuck on similar points, who could learn from my mistakes and, if not arriving at the correct result, at least avoid getting stuck for months in the same issues that I spent so much time on. My loss could be your gain.
- - -
I love sharing my training logs, workouts and power numbers - besides technical and tactical advice - out in the open, fully knowing that my competitors may be reading it all as well (and no, I don't think I warrant such level of attention by my adversaries, but that's another story). If I am to be beaten, it's because the other man was indeed stronger. If I am to win, hopefully it will be in a race made as hard as possible by all other competitors - and that includes my, hopefully positive, contribution to their performance.

Funny how so many parallels can be drawn between cycling and academia. Supply - of both aspiring amateur cyclists and graduate wanna-be scientists - is ample, whereas demand - for research professors, or professional cyclists - is stagnant at best. That a competitive environment should result is not in the least questioned. But still, and specially so when such environment ceases to be healthy and stimulating, and acquires a crippled, poisonous stance, one must be able to realise that, sometimes, winning at all costs isn't winning at all.
- - -
Yet another whinny post to justify stepping down from my goals? Far from it. As I've said time and again, I believe in an extricate life-work-sport combination which, in its balance, includes a healthy dose of insanely unbalanced acts. Somehow, striving in adverse conditions has a very appealing factor - and even more so if it can be associated with "fighting the good fight", a perspective through which I can see both my sportive and academic endeavours.

Now, if you were to ask me whether it's possible for one to nurture a meaningful relationship while simultaneously defending a Ph.D. and attempting to make it in the highest sporting level? Hmmm... challenge accepted.

Another century of fakers.

It was a typical Fall day, grey, cold, and rainy. Mathematica was taking too long to calculate an expression, leading me to alt-tab to my browser, fire up google maps, and start daydreaming: "we should do this ride someday", "hmm, maybe one can drive all the way to...", or, "I should take the train and follow this route..." .

I drifted east, and further east. And, realizing I knew very little of some northern-India province, I wikipedia'ed it. And then clicked through to China. And further to the relations between those countries, and Taiwan. And some other countries in the region. And their takes on strategic nuclear war. Non-proliferation treaties, non-first-use policies, minimum credible deterrences. And somehow I landed at the Sovereign Military Order of Malta. (PapaTango, anyone?). Snap. Wake up, Neo.
- - -
Over the past week, my Brazilian friends were involved in a discussion on that country's local state of affairs, following a very revealing interview by the president. At one point, one noted that many of us had actually already left the country, precisely or in part due to some of the issues underlying the current problems. However, we were also quick to realize that other countries, including those which currently serve as havens to those in exile, may be doomed the same fate, however possibly through different mechanisms or in different time scales. Time will tell how different cultures will deal with this increasing entropy; nevertheless an exhaustive treatise on social thermodynamics is beyond the scope of the present rambling (for which this paragraph serves merely as some sort of reminder or placeholder).
- - -
One of the following is true:
- no matter how much I devote myself to understanding, classifying, and eventually working towards the solution of all those outstanding issues, I won't make a single, measurable difference; or
- there's a non-zero probability of causing change. Cue to the disputed Margaret Mead quote, "Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has. "
- - -
The staggering popular repercussion following Apple's CEO Steve Job's passing have astonished me. I remember wearing a black armband once, after the passing of a famous Brazilian sportsman, some fifteen years ago. For a moment I wondered if my relationship to sports, and athletes, was so different from that to technology, and its inventors - but found them to be more alike than apart. Still, all those the flowers and candles across, virtually, all countries which have access to a modern computer?

It's not that I want to defend my own sci/tech heroes - however I should believe that there are much worthier contributions from, say, Tim Berners-Lee, Richard Stallman, or Linus Torvalds. Rather, it's about those countless, virtually unknown, members of the community, who, maybe as a matter of principle, will never be in the spotlight, but yet, through their unsung efforts, keep the vast and complex structure afloat which enables this iGadget generation to enjoy those very instances for which they now praise but one single icon.
- - -
Behold, the calculation has reached some result... but, alas!, again, it doesn't match. Back to the drawing board - it seems I'll get to write more soon...

The Atlantic was (re)born today

It was June and we were in Munich for the weekend. We had camped by a lake, gone biking in the Alps, ran a 10k run, and were wrapping it up with a concert by Death Cab for Cutie. The final song played was Transatlanticism, for which we had been waiting the whole evening. The first few keystrokes of the intro led us to embrace; I cried joyfully throughout the whole performance as we celebrated a long-awaited victory over the dreaded waters which, for so many turbulent months, we had so often cursed.

Fast-forward 16 weeks, and our summer bliss went by too fast.

Yesterday, driving back from the airport, the soundtrack from that concert somehow made its way to my playlist. The ocean was back, and though some perspectives may be quite different this time around - it is still less of a lake, and more of a moat. May it be not for long.

I need you so much closer.

Dear Humans: you're doing it wrong, part II

Once upon a time¹, in a land far, far away², an Institution located in the distant, forgotten realms of its kingdom³ offered free meals during colloquium and seminar talks which were held over lunchtime. The exact reasons such noble act of charity took place is unknown; some defended the hypothesis that, by offering free food, graduate scholarships could be kept lower; others were adamant to a Dilbert'ian argument, in which the meals were just part of an intricate mechanism which, masked under a veil of convenience, had the evil intent of denying the poor students' of the bright daylight which shined outside, keeping them longer in the dark confines of their academic dungeons⁴.

One day⁵, a note was posted on the citadel's walls⁶. It read

Dear members,
Due to the unavailability of a speaker for today's talk it will be cancelled. Lunch will be for sale in the first floor kitchen at the price of $5 a serving (Cabbage rolls or Lasagna).
Sorry for any inconvenience.

So would begin the story of Joe Student⁷, who, being already on his way to the Institute when said email was sent, was denied of the chance to plan accordingly, eventually buying lunch elsewhere or preparing a more nutritious and less expensive meal alternative at home to be brought along. Fortunately for the readers of this post, our hero had long left those dominions, and, having sailed across the wide oceans back to his original dwellings, so avoided further instalments of this tragedy to develop.
- - -
Or maybe not. Still subscribing to IQC's mailing list, I couldn't help meddling with the affairs of others. Your struggle is my struggle, or something like that. Ergo, these ramblings.

Academia in general, and the Institute for Quantum Computing in this particular example, should strive towards a consistent and responsible behaviour with regards to its members. While it is commendable that, given the RAC buildings' inaccessible location, lunch is provided (and furthermore, in a free-of-charge fashion, usually thrice a week), and while still noting that it is not the particular monetary value in question that should matter - though graduate students living on a tight budget from a scholarship may fully disagree - still one should not impart on the students and researchers the hindrance or misfortune of a last-minute cancellation of a lunch talk, lest at some point the quest for a speaker may end up worded as "please deliver a seminar talk during lunchtime, otherwise we'll be obliged to pay for food".

A discussion on the benefits and disadvantages of the lunch seminar series, or furthermore on whether the offering of free food can be seen as (unqualified) social aid or alms, or even on the laughable conditions faced by students which leads to the above points at all being issues worthy of mention, is beyond the scope of this post - for now.
- - -
[1] "Nowadays" doesn't sound as nice.
[2] Waterloo, Canada.
[3] The RAC buildings, a good half hour walk from the University ring.
[4] The windowless 2003 or 2117 rooms.
[5] Today.
[6] An email sent out to the Institute's mailing list
[7] The author.

The Loneliness of a Middle-Distance Runner

This started as a meta-post, intended to test the theory, proposed a few weeks ago, that writing a post the day(s) before a race led me to win it. I've long wanted to name a post after this song, and, why not, I figured I could put together a few words and give this hypothesis a shot. (Edit: race results are posted on the comments - maybe I should write more often...)
- - -
I have a cold, not bad enough to take me out of the running entirely, but just sufficiently bothersome to spoil the good feelings which were otherwise leading up to the Franconian Time-Trial championships. Nevertheless, I had a good taper, and at least on paper have put solid performances in the past few weeks. It would be a shame to see it all stumble because of a slightly sore throat and aching joints, and yet - winning shouldn't matter, as the journey was, once again, a most delightful one.
- - -
All my hopes and expectations, though, revolve around much higher orbits than those of my cycling performance - or the current status of my doctoral research, for that matter. Curiously, sometimes nothing changes, and all is different. Equally, one can undergo earth-shattering turmoils, and in the midst of such changes, find that which still remains constant.

The future's looking colourful
It's the colour of blood, chaos and corruption of a happy soul
A happy soul will ride in the field
'Til the rain dies down.