There's More to Cycling than Bikes and Racing: Anthesianism and 43

In today's world of instant gratification and slick productions that can make gardening look dynamic and exciting, it can be hard to remember that most of life is in fact mundane. Today there are more entertainment options than ever. This was not always so, of course, and back in the '80's and '90's we had only the music or books and magazines we could carry with us, and land line telephones to communicate with people far away. This meant that we all had a lot of time to think about things. Not the least of these times was during long rides where you might be solo, or had run out of things to say to the people you were riding with. Some of the things I thought long and hard about when my 'job' was to ride bikes, was Anthesianism, and 43. I did not invent, discover, or originate either of these ideas, I merely tried to interpret; or make these ideas personal to me. 

Anthesianism originated, if I remember right, in San Francisco at the Shaklee team photo shoot in 1991. It springs from a single statement, which came from nowhere, it seemed, when my then new teammate Dave Anthes said, "Man, I just wanna get an old, beat-up, rusty pick-up truck, load it up with a bunch of rusty metal and broken concrete, and drive around town."

Now, while you consider that statement, it is worth looking into the man himself. Dave Anthes was yet another remarkable bike racer, a native of Boulder, but with a racing background more grounded in Arizona where he went to school at Arizona State in Tempe. Dave was a tall one at 6'3", and very skinny. He was remarkably capable of putting out tremendous power that belied his almost frail looking legs. He had, however, one major weakness: He needed to eat an extraordinary amount of food to power his efforts. At the start of races, his jersey pockets were so overstuffed with food, it negated any advantage he might have had by being so skinny. In spite of all the food he carried with him, he picked up a stuffed musette bag at the feed zone; god forbid if he missed it. After the race he had to immediately eat more. Then we would have dinner, and then just before bedtime, he would take a trip to a Burger King or McDonalds or whatever was nearby and open, and have a burger and fries, and maybe a milkshake. I got to witness this several times as I would usually be the only one who would go with him. The reason for his late night second dinner was that he famously once bonked while sleeping.

He was a very good climber, and could throw out a good time trial when he wanted, 4th place, for instance at the national championship time trial in '93 at Altoona on his road bike with a clip-ons and a disc wheel. But because he was so often on the edge of bonking, you could never be sure he could see a road race through. For instance once at the Vuelta de Bisbee Dave had done particularly well in the prologue behind a few Coors Light guys. The first road stage there has miles upon end of viscous cross winds followed by a climb before the finish. Our plan was to keep Dave safe from the wind, and hope he could unleash on the climb. Kent Bostick, John Frey, and I were guttering the field and Dave should have been in the gate keeper spot. I looked back at one point, and he wasn't there. I told John and Kent that I was going back to look for Dave. The field was single file pressed in the right gutter. I had to go nearly all the way back to find him stuggling in the line. He said he was bonked and it was useless to bring him back. I convinced him to try anyway. I dragged him all the way back to the front, and put him in the gatekeeper spot. I went back to pulling, but it wasn't long before he was gone again. He cracked, and lost a lot of time.

He rebounded from that however, and strormed to the win at the criterium following the stage race. The Bisbee crit isn't an ordinary one, it goes straight up and then down, and the section of the hill by the high school is very steep. Dave ripped off the front early and ran away to win from everyone who had exceled in the stage race. He won this race 3 times I think. 

Dave Anthes outside the trailer we stayed in during the Cascade Classic in Bend. '92?

Dave Anthes entereing said trailer

Anthesianism is centered on the idea of carrying on in spite of every obsticle in your way without any concern as to appearance. A quality at the very core of cycling: perseverance. It also evokes the spirit of doing things the "hard way." A willingness to get things done in the necessary manner, not necessarily the most economical, pretty, or pleasing way, but sometimes by putting the square peg through the round hole. Included also is sometimes the idea of weight in the sense of being an imposing force. Part of the Anthesian lexicon is also the notion that nothing can stop a freight train. Put any idea of the many things that you know can stop a freight train out of your mind, and imagine the raw, sheer mass and power which is a spirit of its own, which cannot be stopped.

Anthesianism also evokes the aesthetic value of the beauty of decay, mostly of metal. The functionality of dented, rusty, machinery with fading paint. A 1970's tractor, covered in old diesel fuel stains, with rusted exhuast pipes, grease covered hydraulic joints, a radio that hasn't worked since 1987, a loose, sloppy clutch, and a no longer fixed hitch; an unappealing piece of junk to most, becomes a thing of beauty in the Anthesian sense, because in spite of everything, it continues to be useful. Or consider an abandoned, rusted oil refinery, with the twisted mess of pipes and valves, the stench of stale oil in the air, Anthesian not because it is useful, but rather because it yet stands, defiant in it's constant state of decay.

Ideas of Anthesianism and the physical examples can be combined or used singly to devine Anthesian events. A perfect example being, while driving into downtown Philadelphia, we heard on the radio that there was a terrible traffic jam on I-95 because a bulldozer had broken it's restraints, and fallen off the truck carrying it onto the road. An Anthesian event can also be something so simple as a rockslide, pulverizing everything in it's path. Terrible things can of course happen in the course of a rockslide, but the Anthesian beauty of it cannot nonetheless be denied.

Dave Anthes, Visionary?

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43ism. It is not a religion, it is not a movement. It is not good, nor bad, it is amoral. The idea of 43 and we who believe in the notion of it, has no structure at all, and is very difficult to describe. It has no leader, no orignator that I know of, and certainly no originating text. One becomes indoctrinated into 43 by being introduced to the notion by a believer.

I was introduced to 43 by Brij Lunine, who had arrived in Albuquerque to pursue a Masters in American Studies at the University of New Mexico. He had come, as near as most of us could tell, from Berkely, or Oakland, or both. When not in bike gear, which is how I usually saw him, he could often be seen in a sweatshirt that read: "43 isn't old if you're a tree". The only picture I have of Brij is below, in this shot of a bunch of us in the bar at the then new Sadie's Cocinita on 4th Ave. in Albuquerque.


From left: Brij Lunine, Me looking silly, Paul Sery, the incomprable Rod Bush, Kelly Frey (nee Brennan), and Anne Hamilton.

I had just returned home to Albuquerque from an early season road trip and went down to ride in the local Tuesday evening training crit. I had also just recieved my Shaklee 'baseball cards' and brought a stack to hand out to people. As I approached Brij, he was talking to Hiroki, a Japanese student at UNM, and of course bike racer.

Hiroki Ide recieving a headlock from Paul Sery at Thanksgiving.

As I came into earshot, Hiroki was just saying, "booshit, no, no, that's booshit."  I asked what they were talking about, and Brij explained. He began by saying that 43 was "the number of life." He then expounded on numerous examples of what I took to be coincidental sightings and '43' placements. They ranged from the fact that Nylan Rolan was 43 when he pitched his record no hitter, to the fact that the greatest NASCAR driver ever was #43, Richard Petty. After Brij had made his pitch, I handed Brij and Hiroki my card. Brij flipped it over and read the back. "See, look" he said. On closer inspection, I saw that my career victories were listed as 43. How could I not instantly become a believer?



The item that made me a believer.

It took several years before I could come up with any kind of meaning to 43. If someone asks me about 43, I usually now begin by saying that the idea is that 43 shows up randomly in a significant manner more often than other numbers. Whether or not that is true is insignificant. Just because a certain science fiction novel series proclaimed that the answer to life, the universe, and everything is 42 is irrelevant. 43 isn't an answer, it simply coldly inserts itself in our lives.

Skeptics will point out that since I am looking for 43 I will see 43, and discount significant instances of other numbers. This may be true, but although I above I say "significant" it is not absolute. As Hiroki would say when we would ask him how to say some English language saying in Japanese: "We, uh, don't um, we don't exactly say it that way...is more concept" (He said that often enough that we eventually jokingly concluded that he wasn't Japanese at all but really just from Albuquerque's south valley). Still, I am surprised, and delighted at how often 43 appears. Often it appears in a series of mundane matters. Sometimes it surprises you with it's importance. They range from newspaper headlines to personal and general things. For instance, my shoe size (which happens to be the average male shoe size) is 9.5, which happens to be 43 in metric sizing. Twice I have been number 43 at the National Championships.

We would never actively try to sell anyone on 43, but if asked we will of course try to explain. There is nothing to gain from convincing anyone other than likely gaining a friend for life; and I think I can find a good deal of comfort from that. Just like with cycling; wherever you go in the world, you always have that common bond with other cyclists.

The mathematically minded will also usually point out that 43 is in fact a prime number.