More about the NuVinci CVPT hub

My last post about the NuVinci was skeptical. The label of "planetary transmission" can be misleading because traditional planetary systems are not continuous. With a little more research, I have discovered that the NuVinci is indeed continuously variable, and it is also pretty clever in design.

It it still difficult to see how the NuVinci works, even after watching the tech demo video on the Fallbrook Technologies website. I'd really like to get a model of it, one of those models with the cutaway to the inside, so you can see the parts moving and how it works. Sort of like those cut-in-half engines at an auto museam. Or maybe a working Lego model, or something. You can see the videos here.

I also found a whitepaper on the NuVinci with a good picture that might help you understand what is going on inside the hub.

This diagram shows the "idler" or the central channel that moves the ring of balls left and right, varying the contact point with the output disc. Through a special oil, the balls apply friction on the output ring, transferring torque from the rotation of the planets to the output disc, which gives motion to your wheel. This is an overly simplistic view on the technology, but it gives you the general idea of what is going on.

1. You twist your grip shift
2. The shaft of the hub moves the idler
3. The idler changes the contact point on the output disc
4. And you upshift or downshift, depending on how that contact point changes

Rather than touting the fun and simplicity of the NuVinci, I would like to point at how incredibly efficient the CVPT is. Not only can you shift under load and without pedaling, but there is infinity gear choices, withabsolutely no redundancy in gear ratios. Fallbrook claims that this system has a 360% gear range. I don't really know exactly what that means (except that it refers to the percentage of range from the lowest to highest gears, as measured in gear-inches), but I'll provide their very handy infographic for comparison.

To call the NuVinci a "planetary transmission" is a stretch of the term because it is barely recognizable as such. But it is still a planetary system because it has all the right components, from planets to the sun and a shaft that moves back and forth changing the gear ratios from input to output. There are plenty of testimonials online about the simple joy of using the NuVinci (which I sometimes mistakenly refer to as the NuvaRing, a very, very different product). I like the concept, it appeals to almost every single aspect of my tech-headedness, and I can't wait to combine the NuVinci with a belt drive on my mountain bike (for more belt drive NuvaRing insanity, please see the options for the Ellsworth Enlightenment). 

The Boa Lacing System for bike shoes

I've been riding in the same MTB shoes for the past three years. They're Specialized something-or-other with three Velcro straps and they're not bad for how much I paid, and they've been quite comfy in road rides, mountain rides and even some nice long hikes when I taco my wheels and do the walk of shame back to the car. My old shoes are the predecessor to the current Specialized Sport MTB shoe:

But after three years and several thousand miles of rain, dirt, sweat, muck and the occasional dribble of pee, I have decided to move away from the old tech and on to something new. I have no gripes with the plastic shell and Velcro straps, and the rubber toe piece held up fine too. But after fiddling with my straps every 10 miles during the 100-mile ARFL, I realized that I might have more appreciation for a higher-end shoe, a shoe that embraces new forms of technology for comfort, speed and convenience. I'm not talking about carbon fiber mid soles and ratcheting straps, which are perfectly awesome as they are. I'm talking about the Boa Lacing System, the simplest, fastest, lightest and most adjustable shoe lace ever.

Here's a closeup of the Boa on a Scott cycling shoe:

As you can see, the one knob evenly tightens up the entire upper half of the shoe, making it quick and easy to put on, tighten up, readjust and hit the trail.

You may have seen this type of thing before. Since 1997, Boa has made tremendous product leaps into footwear for snow sports, running, cycling and hiking. Since the technology is so awesome (and who doesn't need an awesome lace for something?), Boa also makes lace tensioning systems for medical products, MotoGP protective wear, tents, helmets, backpacks, belts, and even boots for horses. Wicked. I don't need anything crazy, however, I just want some cycling shoes.

My main problem with most shoe laces, including buckles, straps and ratcheting straps, is that it is difficult to achieve the proper amount of pressure or tension over the top of your foot. If you're like me, and like a loose toe box, but tight mid-foot and loose ankle space, laces just don't work at all. The three strap or buckle system gets closer, but actuating the perfect tension can be really difficult, especially because the straps don't distribute pressure over a very large area. Straps and buckles are kaput.

As far as the pressure on your foot goes, this is where Boa makes the money shot with their super-duper, micro-adjustable tension that provides a "glove-like fit." I'm sort of balling up all of the pros of the Boa tech, but suffice it to say this shoe lace rocks. And it has to be pretty awesome if I'm getting excited about it.

I've tried the Boa laces on shoes in the store and I have firmly decided that my next pairs of running sneakers, ski boots, and cycling shoes will all have the Boa Lacing System. It took me about three seconds to decide that this is the wave of the future, and I'm going to ride the crap out of it.

My dream shoe would be the S-Works MTB shoe with dual Boas across the mid-foot and top-foot, with a small velcro strap at the toe box:

This shoe is meant not for weekend warriors, but for Tier 1 professional athletes. It's meant for people who have the greatest demand for performance. It's meant for people who are willing to shell out 350 clams for a pair of freakin' bike shoes. It's not meant for me, so I don't think I'll be buying it any time soon.

Still, I will be watching the market very closely over the winter, waiting for the bike shoe with Boa tech that is perfect for me and my rapidly shrinking bank account. At a mere $150, the Lake MX170 seems to be closer to the realm of possibility, though it doesn't come with as many bells and whistles.

The 2010 AIDS Ride for Life

Fall mornings are my favorite. I love the refreshing feeling of waking up to crisp air and a red crescent of light peeking over the horizon. I ache my way out of bed, tip toeing across the bedroom, hopscotching my way over the icy bathroom floor, my toes burning cold while I shiver my way through a steamy, two-minute morning piss. I would have preferred this type of morning today. But I was not so lucky.

It was a long night. I went to bed excited, pumped about the epic ride at 7am. By midnight, my excitement had turned into restlessness. A few hours later, my restlessness turned into apprehension. And by 4:45am, my apprehension turned into no less than three episodes of nervous diarrhea. There I sat, frozen on the john, bathed in pale starlight, looking something like a big, naked blob of pizza dough, with my intestines unravelling like yarn into the toilet below. But aside from the complete lack of sleep and less-than-ideal poopage, I was in surprisingly high spirits. 

I warmed myself up with a hot cup of steel-cut oatmeal, spiked with cinnamon and New York maple syrup. At 5:50, when my stomach was settled, I got dressed, packed up my gear and launched myself into the chilly dawn that would begin my 100-mile AIDS Ride For Life.

We congregated for the opening ceremony at 6:45am and were flagged for departure around 7am. I made the smart choice of being in the first group, a speedy throng of fifteen cyclists who would blaze out of the park and up the hill around 17 miles-per-hour. I held on with alpha group for the first hour, burning my way up a twenty mile ascent to the first aid station. Being fully loaded, I decided to pass and zoomed forth into the wind. I rode solo from miles twenty five through forty, seeing no one ahead of me and no one behind. It was a cool, breezy descent down from King Ferry to Union Springs, which is almost at the top of the lake. Things began to heat up around mile 40, as my chamois cream dwindled and dried and my ass began to chafe something awful.

I stopped at one aid station to refill my hydration pack, but other than that, I pedaled all the way to Seneca Falls for lunch, which was at about 60 miles into the ride. As I passed the 50-mile mark, I remembered thinking that this was the longest ride I had ever done, and that anything more would be uncharted territory. Among the few, unpredictable outcomes, I had considered the idea that I might bonk and not be able to finish. I also might get super pumped and dance my way to the endzone like Deon Sanders. But nothing really changed. I ate a light lunch and continued on. There were many more miles to go.

I left Seneca Falls feeling weary and strange, almost as if I were intoxicated with fatigue. I was meandering along the busy road, giving high fives to spectators, posing for photos, and otherwise making a fool of myself in my wet and form-fitting jersey, which did a great job of showing off my tits in pictures. When I left the crowds of supporters, I was alone again on the highway, heading home with just 35 miles to go. One thing I hadn't really noticed until this point was how boring road riding is. I have seen this part of the country a bazillion times. The corn fields and wineries all look the same to me. And over time, The loud and blustery wind scraped away all sense of reality, and I had to consciously day dream just to keep myself busy. I spent lots of time rehearsing my Medal of Honor acceptance speech.

With 25 miles to go, I was on the edge of failure, suddenly overcome with the immense desire to quit and curl up under a shady tree and sleep for the rest of the weekend. I was riding into the sun, into a head wind, and up some really annoying false-flats. At this moment, I knew it was time for my secret weapon. Disregarding the strict rules of the AIDS Ride, with no regard to my own safety, I busted out my headphones and pumped Tool's Lateralus for the next hour.

My last effort, aided by the loudness and intensity of the music, brought me within eight miles of the finish line. The road got really narrow here so I decided to ditch the headphones and grind my way in, relying on my ego to carry me to the end. Then there were just five miles to go. Then there were just three miles left. I was almost heartbroken when I hit the last hill, a gruesome half-mile-long climb up about 500 feet. I summoned my last bit of strength and intestinal fortitude, just barely making it to the top. This was pretty much the finish line for me, because the last two miles of the ride brought me back down to the lake level and into the park where the massage therapists were waiting patiently for me. I crossed the finish line with a time of 7:26 and then promptly collapsed in a tangle, unable to speak or walk for the next ten minutes. When I finally got moving again, I got a fifteen minute massage then called the team car to bring me home for some much needed sleep.

I finished the day feeling rewarded by two things, that I completed a 100-miler (much of which is still throbbing under my gently raspberried ass cheeks) and that I was able to raise over 1000 dollars for an important cause. Many thanks to everyone that supported me in donations (especially you, mom), training and much needed motivation throughout the duration of the ride. My fellow riders were friendly, the volunteers were dedicated and gracious, and the spectators were instrumental at keeping me focused during my lowest moments. At the opening ceremony this morning, we were reminded to think of the "shoulders we stand on, and who stands on ours." I think the AIDS Ride, more than anything lately, has reminded me that the community has the power to help itself, as long as we keep letting people stand on our shoulders.

Read more about the AIDS Ride for Life here.

See my GPS stats for my ride here.