THE GREAT OUTDOORS
Flying by the seat of their Spandex pants: Inside Houston's velodrome
Photo by Peter Barnes
Photo by Peter Barnes
Photo by Peter Barnes
Photo by Peter Barnes
The cyclists hit the 33-degree banked turns of Alkek Velodrome at speeds faster than a city bus driver on his last run of the day, their bodies and machines within inches of each other as they muscle toward the finish in a burst of adrenaline and leg-melting lactic acid.
“These guys are tough,” says Dale Rasche, part of a dedicated cadre of Greater Houston Cycling Foundation volunteers who oversaw the first races of the season Friday night. He then climbed the wooden tower to announce the schedule to bikers old and young prowling the warmup lane, awaiting their chance to fly around the concrete track at Cullen Park.
Their bikes don’t have brakes and are propelled by a single, fixed gear, meaning that if the back wheel is moving, so are the pedals that are attached mechanically to the rider’s shoes. Crashes, though rare, can result in spectacular pileups of metal and shredded spandex.
Unlike road events where spectators can see only a few feet of a miles-long course, velodrome races are actually fun to watch as fans scream and pound on the wall while athletes jockey constantly for position.
Let me make one thing abundantly clear: Single speeds are not a fashion statement.
Every time I see a track bike underneath some hipster dressed like an adolescent at self-esteem camp, it makes me want to drag him to Alkek by the seat of his impossibly tight pants and scream, “Look! This is what brakeless, fixed-gear bikes are for. These people are going 40 mph. All you’re capable of is mocking a century-old sport.”
But I digress. The track bike’s minimalism makes it lean, light and aerodynamic. The sliver of tire tread that actually touches the track is less than an inch across and not much longer than it is wide.
The high gearing precludes a quick start, so most races begin with a pack of riders taking a “neutral lap” around the track at slow speed before the official’s whistle begins the chase. Race types vary in length and scoring. Some are a simple sprint to the finish, while one variant eliminates the last rider in every lap. Others award one or two points to the first and second riders across the line each lap, invoking a degree of strategy that, I can only imagine, is like trying to play Sudoku while running up stairs.
“My parents got into it, and when I was seven or eight we would, instead of going to the football games Friday and Saturday nights, we’d go out to the track and watch the races,” says Houston native Cristin Walker, who’s now a three-time elite national champion.
As long as a kid is big enough to fit on the bike, she or he can ride, and Houston Cycling holds free classes for kids from 9 a.m. to noon Saturdays.
Getting started is just as easy for curious adults. Open track times take place throughout the week, bike rentals are $5, and there’s always a volunteer around to help you figure out how to ride on a surface that’s steeper than most roofs. Plus, the first five sessions are free and cost only $10 after that. There are only two dozen velodromes in the United States, and Houston cyclists are lucky to live in a city that owns one and makes it so easy to access.
I’d go so far to say that Alkek is an asset every biking enthusiast should consider visiting at least once, whether to work on sprints, catch a race or add a dose of frenzied competition to what is an often solitary pastime.
“There is a lot more contact in track racing than there is in road. It’s exhilarating. The adrenaline starts going, and you start weaving in and out of people,” Walker says. “Sometimes you bump.
"Sometimes you hit, but it's kind of great we don’t have brakes out there because no one is going to slam on them in front of you. So you don’t have to worry about that, and you just go.”
