Left foot overhauled

Autumn is everywhere, in deep forests, supermarkets, and cozy hospital rooms.

Typically mid August to September is the time to get hospitalized for me for some unknown reason, and it happened this year again, for about 10th time or so and after two years since the last. I walked in mid September, stayed three weeks, and hobbled out on crutches last week.

Just like the last time it’s not for any fresh injury but to treat an old, lingering one. There was this new hope to fix my left foot that’s basically been in an unwalkable condition since the injury three year ago, so I just went all in for the new plan.

Previously the doctor said the main issue was necrosis in the talus bone and there was no easy rectification, but this other doctor I saw this time shed a different light on it. He instantly saw I had flexible joints, then proceeded to point out a few ligaments were missing and the joint was very loose, which he said could be fixed by ligament reconstruction and fibular osteotomy to make the joint tighter. It all happened during this one visit at the end of August along with normal x-ray, stress x-ray, and reservation for hospitalization. Light speed.

As for ligaments, I had long sensed the absence of the anterior talofibular ligament on the outside, but never suspected the triangular ligament on the inside to have failed since the seemingly successful reconstruction many years ago. I’ve always been pretty flexible, like flexible enough to do leg splits, which can contribute to severe looseness when damages like torn ligaments and crushed cartilages pile up in the joint. They say “flexibility helps keep injuries away” (at least in Japan) but you just can’t seem to construe it as “the more flexible, the less injury.” Too bad I didn’t know.

Winter Olympics are over, officially

As is already making headlines, Olympics have just come to a sad point, at least for the Japanese.

I was born between the Innsbruck Winter Games and Montreal Summer Games. Four years later, the Moscow Summer Games saw boycotts from various Western countries owing to the tension under the Cold War. Sarajevo, the winter venue another four years later, became a civil war battlefield several years after the Olympics.

History took another turn this time, where Japan is not welcome to the games anymore.

From the official 2018 PyongChang Olympics. Also found a captured image before sneaky rectification. Can you find Waldo, in his trademark red and white outfit? Obviously not.

So hey, isn’t it about time to give it all up?

I know, it’s the athletes who are gritting their teeth and betting their life on these events that should be prioritized. But then again, such athletes could be shot down by the media for irrelevant charges like dressing down or having attitudes (note for non-Japanese: this happened to Kokubo on a major scale in the past). I don’t want to witness that anymore.

On a more profound note, there is something about what the Olympics do. The games give short-term economic effects and medium-term action plans and goals for the host and participating countries as well as leave sport facilities and infrastructure for the area, though along with debts. In other words, the host gets a chance to promote and enhance sports to a great extent. However, all that may not mean a thing if the area has no potential for such sports, in which case it would just be a rather exhausting one hit wonder event supported by investments that never pay back. In reality, of course, it’s the matter of keeping a balance between these extreme ends of the spectrum.

So as I watched the Sochi Games, well I actually didn’t watch much at all but anyhow, it caught my attention that Sochi is a rather warm resort in Russia. If translated into the Western context, that’s the Gran Canaria Winter Games, Key West Winter Games, or Gold Coast Winter Games. To me it seemed like those days were over when the venues and games walked hand in hand by nature.

Also this time, some countries have started contemplating boycotts mainly due to the ongoing military tension in the area. Now in consideration of those poor athletes who are peaking for the event, if boycotting becomes commonplace, it might be a good idea to throw a different party, the very first Antarctic Sixth Ring Games.

Dust bin timewarp

While it took me a while to get this done, this has become a tiny story about something that happened over a month ago. It’s my own behind the scene story about MTB downhill equipment, told from the farthest place from what’s actually new and hot in the scene as of now.

Out of various disciplines of mountain biking, downhill is where most serious riders, if not all, use goggles just like in motocross or snow sports. But then I was the rider going down the hill in Niseko last month wearing protective DIY eyeglasses, all that for this one reason, a sad story about things gone.

My good old Oakley goggles that have served me in skiing, snowboarding, and mountain biking. I only had the snow lens on hand, so I was secretly preparing some clear lens for them. I used to have a clear double lens but it came to the end of its life years ago. The persimmon one work real fine with great fogging resistance but is a bit too dark in summer.

So I grabbed some plastic sheet at a hardware store, wielded some punch and scissors, then voila! Seems usable, with comfortable, huge field of view. The frame is a bit sweaty and dusty so I might give them a little wash…

Bad move. Well I’ve got another pair!

Which just disintegrated the moment I touched em. You too, Brutus?!

I loved the first pair for the nice low-profile color, which was a blend between the original fluorescent pink and the black dye I added. There was a time when 4Runners with “Naeba” (ski resort) stickers in these very fluorescent colors were dope, and these guys WERE the icon from that era.

The encounter dates back to early 1990s. There was an MTB shop in West Side Ikebukuro, Tokyo that I’d go to without actually shopping much at all, and the folks were always super nice. One day, I spotted these goggles in the trash can there. I asked and found out someone had used em up. After exchanging a few words, these guys made their way out of the bin, and into my hands.

The rest is history, though may not be in your book. So for a rundown, they have supported my vision, chiefly in ski fields in places like Nagano, Hokkaido and Colorado, and that they did well.

1999, Arapaho Basin, Colorado. I actually didn’t stick it. Laid out straight enough to match my ego and under rotated. What a fail. Anyhow the goggles survived this one nonetheless.

So, with fond memories left along the way, the Pink and the Green have finally retired and gone back to where they belonged, at least where they had a quarter century back. What an outstanding performance and longevity. Thank you.

My debut into Downhill Series

Last weekend saw a downhill race event happening in Niseko, a little unusual one in that it was part of the Downhill Series organized and mostly done in the mainland. First time in Hokkaido, interesting format, so I jumped right in.

When I was on the national DH circuit about 15-20 years ago, the J-Series was the main focus, which has continued on to become today’s Coupe du Japon, the same national thing under a more chic name. On the other hand there is the newer Downhill Series, a private-run scheme kind of like the Eagle Cup back in the day IYKWIM.

So I went to race on my semi-vintage bike just like last year, photo courtesy of Kakusuke.

After all, what we said about these Norco bikes when we were the Japanese distributor was right; built tough, built to last. This photo is from the timed session on Saturday, and the race format is awesome in that you can have fun and be competitive throughout the weekend up to the final race time on Sunday.

I was horribly over-pumped for the timed session, which sent me off the bike 3 or 4 times, resulting in a bad chain suck that didn’t even allow me to keep both pedals level in the latter half. Nothing to be noted about my record of 4:59.863, more than a minute slower than the top pros.

For Sunday I was forced to take a different approach. Lots of taping on my legs and just staying away from crashes. Otherwise, my weekend would just leave me crushed and clueless. It worked, and I finished 11th overall, 27+ seconds slower than the winning pro Naoki Idegawa from Hiroshima, who made his August 6th count. Takusei, the fastest among the locals, was 15 seconds above me, not a minor difference at all.

People seem to think my rather poor run could be attributed to the equipment. I’d kind of like to think so, but actually I built a new wheel set for this, with my first tubeless setup and my first 27.5″ tire up front. I kept my good old 26″ tire from 16 years ago in the back, so that might have been a little stupid for sure. Either way, I’m happy I got to ride and have fun as well as try something new equipment-wise.

Quite randomly it got me thinking the future tire setup for downhills might be 29″ up front and 27.5″/26″ semi-fat convertible for the rear. Oh, mixed diameters banned by UCI? That may change anytime, anyhow. Everyone should have realized the UCI is not all it’s cracked up to be, no ultimate justice, when Peter Sagan was disqualified from the Tour de France this year.

Speaking of equipment, one may wonder why I was running protective glasses for DIY rather than proper goggles. It brings tears to my eyes when I try to explain, so I’ll try again on a later date.

At the end of the day, this great weekend at the national-level DH event coming to Hokkaido for the first time in decades would not have happened without Orie, an avid racer and landscaper in my neighborhood, who started participating in these events in the mainland a couple years ago and appealing for deployment to the north. So thanks and also congratulations on winning it as well. We’re all so proud of you.

Ain’t Boost standard nothing but a joke?

This talk will involve some technical stuff about MTB. It may not be interesting without relevant knowledge, but we’re sorry, we are not elaborating on all that because there is just too much.

Back when MTB was born, component standards were pretty simple, with dimensions of parts unified in most cases. Like if you buy MTB stuff somewhere, you can put it on yours. It was easy to mash two bikes into one. In the last decade or two, though, bike companies started coming up with their own standards, making it a nightmare for you if you wanted to build your own bike from scratch. The kind of diversification as seen in the wheel size starting from 26″ to also include 29″ and even 27.5″ later has happened to virtually every part of the bike and fitting standards therein.

On one hand, this is great. It has made it easier to build a bike that suits the rider’s build and preferences. It’s also just necessary sometimes to step out of existing standards if you are striving to create the ultimate industrial products. Without such attitudes, the Ahead system deriving from the MTB world would not have taken over all sport bike segments including road racers and BMX. We, too, employed our original BB standard for our Tanatos frame because it would just make some industrial sense to us that way.

On the other hand, as bike designers, we are skeptical about “new” standards without reasons. Case in point: Boost standard for MTB front hubs (accompanied by the new rear hub design, which we’ll skip on as there is just too much to mention).

Front hubs of sport bikes, mainly those equipped with multiple speeds, namely road and MTB, typically used to have a 9mm shaft with quick release. The width, called the over lock nut (OLD) length, was 100mm. In line with standardization of suspension forks and disc brakes, however, mountain bikes especially those in mechanically demanding usage such as downhill saw the rise of 20mm axles in 110mm width since around the end of the 20th century. The thicker axle was to compensate for the loss of rigidity owing to the structural limitations of suspension forks. The wider hub contributed to maintaining the lateral rigidity of the wheel with its greater spoke flange widths compensating for the space given to the disc rotor.

Then about a decade ago, the next standard with 15mm shaft and 100mm OLD appeared, claiming its merit in weight saving thanks to downsizing. I would say it’s 99% nonsense, with the remaining 1% being stingy reasons about stimulating new demands out of saturated markets. That’s what we suck at anyway hence is what we don’t care much about.

To put the design problem simple, the claim that the thinner tubing makes it lighter will get you something like the Alan road frame back in the day. Sure, it’s easier to make it light with smaller diameter, as long as you don’t care about rigidity. Those 20mm and 15mm hub shafts are usually made of aluminum, a material that usually has a better balance between weight, rigidity and strength if designed with a larger diameter with thinner wall thicknesses (specifics depends on material characteristics, but aluminum performs better with ever larger diameters typically). If they were serious about ultimate cross-country performance, it would have made more sense to create a thin-wall 20mm shaft. Sorry it’s not even theoretical analysis but pure gut feeling of mine, but I’d guess that’d be lighter and stronger than regular 15mm shafts. On a side note, hub manufacturers offer a bunch of hubs compatible with both 15/100 and 20/110, which realistically means there are’t many of those optimized for either standard.

Now, the industry has come up with new stuff, the Boost standard with 15mm shaft and 110mm OLD. If I’m to elaborate, the wider flange width ensures plenty of strength for large wheels, with proven lightweight. All the better than the previous 15/100, so why not replace your current one? To put it simple in my own words, that’s the death of 15mm standards. Lightweight-minded with all the sacrifice you could ever think of, as if in a case of a boxer with his hair shaved and teeth pulled out for weight loss, and he’s saying, yeah let’s go back to 110 heavyweight, I’ll show em what I’ve got. He’ll die. The longer span means more diameter needed to ensure rigidity anyway, right?

So here is my conclusion, full of biases based on personal preference so it’s up to you whether or not to swallow. The 15mm standards have gone in a full circle and are going to die off, handing their foothold back to the good ol’ 20/110. If the industry was serious about optimization they may land on something like 25/120, but it’s going to take a lot to rewrite whatever exists. We may witness the scene revert to 20/110 in a few years, and see a new struggle for the very best that may likely entail not only the dimensions but also the hub fixing mechanism in a decade or so that follows.

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