Saudi Arabian World Cup climber Sara Qunaibet was the victim of improper use of a Petzl GriGri by a professional coach. She suffered two broken feet and a broken back but could have easily died, especially considering she fell from just below the top anchors and landed beyond the pads.

The incident occurred last year, before the French rounds of the IFSC World Cup held in July 2024. But video of the accident just surfaced. It’s a powerful reminder of the importance of proper techniques and equipment protocols.

Petzl specifies a particular technique for feeding slack for its GriGri, and as always, the brake hand must control the brake strand of the rope. This video and detailed analysis by the narrator reveal that the coach blatantly ignored these rules and committed several other significant errors.

Ironically, the route was an easy warm-up for Qunaibet, and the accident occurred during a test fall that many climbers do to mentally prepare for lead climbing during the training session. And — grab your seat — two other professional coaches were present, one chatting with the belayer the entire time Sara was climbing.

This article first appeared on GearJunkie.

Professional road cycling has made huge leaps in curbing cheating since Lance Armstrong’s seven-year dominance of the Tour de France. But rabid cycling fans and insider pundits still harbor fears that cheating is still producing winning performances at the highest levels. The complete trust of the top riders and teams has been hard to come by. Any hint of foul play generates extreme scrutiny.

From barbituates, steroids, pain killers, EPO, blood transfusions, and motor doping, big-money cycling has exercised extreme measures to obtain the most marginal of competitive advantages. So when chatter surfaces about a new, high-tech, novel way to squeeze out a gain, it isn’t much of a surprise.

Last year, word spread that road cycling’s winningest riders and teams could inhale poisonous gas in the name of performance. This shocked even the most scrupulous fans.

But yesterday, the Union Cycliste Internationale (UCI) officially banned the potentially deadly practice of repeated carbon monoxide inhalation from all competitive cycling under its jurisdiction.

The official press release summarizes the ban as follows: “The new regulation forbids the possession, outside a medical facility, of commercially available CO re-breathing systems connected to oxygen and CO cylinders. This ban applies to all license-holders, teams, and/or bodies subject to the UCI Regulations and to anyone else who might possess such equipment on behalf of riders or teams.”

The new ruling goes into effect on February 10.

Carbon monoxide cheating: why cyclists do it

Carbon monoxide (CO) gas can be an invisible, silent killer. This is why we have CO detectors in RVs and homes. CO has a stronger affinity to the oxygen-carrying component in red blood cells (hemoglobin, or Hb) than oxygen itself.

When inhaled, CO displaces oxygen and eventually causes “suffocation” from the inside. We need detectors because the gas has no taste, color, or odor.

Ironically, CO’s strong affinity for Hb can potentially also enhance aerobic performance. Anything that reduces the blood’s oxygen level over time will stimulate a compensatory response to reestablish this capacity. This is why athletes go to altitude.

The lower partial pressure of oxygen at higher elevations results in fewer oxygen molecules bound to red blood cells. This also means the blood transfers less oxygen to working muscles.

As the athlete continues to live and work at altitude, the body produces more blood volume, hemoglobin, and other factors to compensate. Theoretically, this boosted oxygen-carrying ability provides a greater advantage at lower altitudes.

Repeatedly inhaling CO has the same oxygen-lowering effect as high altitude but with a different mechanism. Instead of less air pressure driving less oxygen into the blood and tissues, CO competes with the oxygen for binding sites on the Hb of red blood cells. Less oxygen bound to Hb ultimately means less oxygen for working muscles.

Studies strongly suggest that it triggers the same compensatory adaptations. But, unlike altitude training, CO inhalation can be extremely harmful.

How are cyclists doing it?

The practice of CO “doping” actually stems from a diagnostic test that teams used to determine training efficacy. Specifically, CO “rebreathing” helped determine blood volume and Hb mass, which helped teams quantify physiological gains made during altitude training camps.

It worked like this: Athletes determine a baseline measurement for CO blood levels using blood and breathing tests. Then, the athlete inhales a small amount of CO diluted with oxygen for two minutes through an enclosed circuit. The CO binds to Hb in the red blood cells to form carboxyhemoglobin.

After these two minutes, teams measured the amount of carboxyhemoglobin in the breath and blood and compared it to the baseline levels to calculate Hb mass. This Hb mass is an indicator of the effectiveness of altitude training or any other method used to increase the oxygen-carrying capacity of blood.

CO rebreathing machines specific to this type of testing automate this procedure. However, athletes can achieve the same results through a manual process using a closed-circuit carbon monoxide rebreather system.

Although these machines and testing procedures have been in use for a long time and do not inherently imply cheating, the possibility of abuse (and negative health consequences) exists. This triggered the spate of speculation and group ride chatter.

When the media connected top teams and contenders of this year’s Tour de France to CO rebreathing tests, the chatter amplified.

Cheating by inhaling carbon monoxide

The jump from legal and logical testing to outright cheating is not black and white. The same physiological response to CO and machinery applies. The devil (and potential death) is in the details and in the wording.

Carbon monoxide rebreathing is testing. Instead of the two minutes of breathing the CO and oxygen mixture to determine Hb mass, cheating, as determined by the UCI, involves repeatedly inhaling CO to stimulate the artificial response of producing more Hb and other blood factors to improve performance.

Athletes can combine repeated inhalation of CO with altitude training. This is termed “super altitude.”

What happens next?

I’ve been around cycling a long time. Only time will tell how this news plays out at the sport’s elite level.

As the UCI press release states, it isn’t poking athletes for blood to determine cheating. It’s taking the much lower-tech approach of prohibiting the possession of commercial CO rebreathing machines.

If I’m optimistic, the road racing industry still stings from the Armstrong Era and all the associated fallout, and they will thereby voluntarily abide by the ruling.

But my inner retro-grouch and experience with this type of workaround prohibition of a potentially performance-enhancing method say otherwise. During my tenure as a trainer in professional sports, the governing body involved prohibited having IV equipment outside of a medical facility. This is the exact wording the UCI uses for CO rebreathing equipment.

Like professional road racing, the money involved was huge. So, what did athletes do to avoid breaking the rules? They arranged for fast transport between racing events on the same day to the nearest ER. Then, they got performance-enhancing, extraneous fluid replacement under “doctor’s orders.” This strategy proved hugely beneficial when events were closely spaced during the hottest races.

Again, this was only possible for the racers and teams with the largest budgets. The same applies here. Not every team can afford a CO rebreathing machine or the professionals to run them. This opens the door for lower-funded athletes and teams to try “back alley” methods to gain equal footing.

I saw this often. It was scary. But winners don’t like to lose, and common sense can take a back seat to “best efforts.”

Let’s all hope that professional cyclists and teams abide by the rules and respect the potential for harm. Cycling doesn’t need a “super altitude era.”

This article first appeared on GearJunkie.

Babsi Zangerl climbed Freerider (VI, 5.13a) on El Capitan in Yosemite this past weekend, reaching the top of the 1,000m-tall formation without falling on the first attempt. Reaching the top of a climbing route in this manner is called a “flash.”

Zangerl’s flash is the first on one of the most famous climbing cliffs. Zangerl, 36, of Austria is one of the best all-around rock climbers on Earth, notching ascents across bouldering, sport climbing, trad single pitch, trad multipitch, and big wall routes. She was supported by her long-time partner and equally talented Jacopo Larcher on the historic ascent.

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A brief history of flash attempts on El Capitan

In 2012, British climber Leo Houlding nearly onsighted (climbing a route from the ground up without falling on the first attempt, without any prior knowledge or ever seeing anyone else climb it) Freerider, only taking a single fall.

Then his compatriot Pete Whittaker flashed Freerider in 2014, but his ascent has a few asterisks. Whittaker fell while attempting the Huber variation of the route on his third day. He “saved” his flash attempt by taking the Teflon Corner, essentially detouring around the section where he fell.

Zangerl’s Freerider flash is the first “clean” attempt.

German brothers Alexander and Thomas Huber established Freerider in 1998. It gained notoriety in 2017 due to Alex Honnold’s successful solo ascent (no rope), highlighted in the movie Free Solo.

Larcher nearly flashes Freerider

Larcher, being Zangerl’s climbing partner and having never touched the Freerider route, also attempted a flash. Unfortunately, he fell on the first difficult “boulder problem” on the route.

“I don’t have much to say, except that I went first on the boulder problem, didn’t see a key pin scar, and fell,” he said when asked how he felt about his attempt today.

He did agree that at least he wasn’t under the once-in-a-lifetime pressure of flashing a route for the remainder of Zangerl’s attempt.

When asked to reflect on the historic flash, Zangerl said, “When we got to the summit, it felt unreal. I was happy for myself and, at the same time, sad for Jacopo. Climbing onsight or flash is like this; you only get one chance, which can feel even more brutal on a 1,000m big wall.

“But Jacopo took it in his stride, and his unwavering, 100% support all the way to the top was fundamental. It’s a true testament to his character. As I said before, I can’t thank him enough. It was certainly the biggest mental challenge I’ve ever faced in my climbing career.”

Zangerl and Larcher are well-known in the global climbing community as the “power couple” of the current era of professional climbers.

This article first appeared on GearJunkie.

Bond Almand departed from Prudhoe Bay, Alaska, on Aug. 31, 2024, and rolled into Ushuaia, Argentina, today. He smashed the prior Pan American Highway record by nine days. And, astonishingly, he chose to do it fully unsupported, solo, even though the gatekeepers to such records do not require this self-imposed limitation.

Almand’s Pan-American Highway Route

Almand’s route is one of the most arduous, varied, and potentially treacherous bicycle routes imaginable.

The Pan-American Highway was originally planned in 1923 as a single roadway connecting North and South America. In 1937, Argentina, Bolivia, Canada, Chile, Colombia, Costa Rica, El Salvador, Guatemala, Honduras, Mexico, Nicaragua, Panama, Peru, and the United States agreed to construct their sections in a timely manner. The highway through Mexico was the first Latin American section completed, completely self-financed. The U.S. assisted with many Central American sections.

 

The Pan-American Highway is nearly continuous, with a notable exception of the Darien Gap, a 100km section between Panama and Colombia that is notoriously dangerous and has been the scene of kidnapping, guerilla violence, smuggling, and drug trafficking.

It is also home to several Indigenous peoples who oppose construction and contains environmentally sensitive rainforest and marshlands. Most travelers circumvent the Gap by boat or plane.

Almand’s chosen path took him through Alaska, Canada, Montana, Wyoming, Nebraska, Colorado, Texas, Mexico, Guatemala, El Salvador, Honduras, Nicaragua, Costa Rica, and Panama, where he hopped on a flight to Colombia. From there, he hugged the Pacific coast, traversing Colombia, Ecuador, Peru, and Chile, finally heading inland to end his months-long adventure in Argentina.

Almand pedaled a mind-boggling 21,880km and ascended 165,100m, making the Tour de France look like a flat sprint by comparison. The college junior amassed about 840 hours on the bike, averaging 289km per day and 26kph.

And if the route wasn’t challenging enough …

If the sheer mileage, vertical gain, and objective hazards like the Darien Gap weren’t enough, Almand overcame random and unfortunate challenges that would derail most.

Ran into a semi

In Mexico, on day 26, a 412km marathon, Almand avoided a certain fatal collision with a moving semi-truck by barrelling into a parked one at 40kph. In an amazing stroke of fortune, he didn’t suffer any major injuries. He did, however, crack his front carbon rim. Undeniably shaken, he managed to ride into the next town, and when the adrenaline wore off, he was left exhausted and feeling ill.

The next day, Almand attempted to ride, physically beaten and mentally shaky. He self-described a panic attack after seeing the corpse of a man that a semi-truck had hit. The man had been walking on the exact same narrow strip of road Almand had been riding. Almand managed to get to the next town and get his damaged bike in for service.

“I was suffocated by my emotions, which was leading to a suffocating panic attack. I thought about all the people I miss. All the people I love. All the people I promised I would return home to. The cars continued to fly by me with inches to spare. At any second, I was prepared to be slammed into from behind,” recalled Almand in his daily online diary.

Almand only managed 48km this day, essentially a day off, and his blog entry describing the events is among the most harrowing of his comprehensive, day-to-day reporting.

Broken frame

The most catastrophic of these obstacles was the worst mechanical that any cyclist fears. Almand broke his Time ADHX carbon fiber bicycle frame after hitting a pothole on day 35 in Nicaragua.

Almand states in his very comprehensive blog diary: “Clearly, disaster has struck. This is not a post I ever wanted to write. In terms of mechanical issues, this is the worst-case scenario. I have managed to crack my frame. The frame is almost unrideable. Although I rode 50 miles on it today after it cracked, riding in it was incredibly dangerous and only done as a last resort. I will need to find a new bike to ride.”

This is challenging to do quickly in the U.S., let alone in a country like Nicaragua.

Incredibly, a bike mechanic in Managua sold Almand his personal Giant TCR frame. This amazing turnaround is even more remarkable because the mechanic rode the same-sized road bike. Almand spent the next day swapping all his parts over and continued his record attempt that evening.

These are only two of the extremely challenging circumstances that Almand overcame during his Pan-American Highway journey. Other obstacles included two additional collisions with vehicles, three cases of food poisoning, six tire punctures in a single day, and an absolutely crippling amount of consecutive days battling constant headwinds. And not least, Almand survived the mental challenges of cycling for over a month without human contact.

Additional records broken

Almand broke four other intermediate records on his run from Alaska to Argentina. He established a new self-supported FKT from the U.S.-Canada border to the U.S.-Mexico border. Almand also broke the record for cycling from Prudhoe Bay, Alaska to Panama City, Panama, and the record for cycling from Cartagena, Colombia, to Ushuaia, Argentina.

Almand also cracked 15 Strava KOMs (King of the Mountains).

The Bond Almand difference

As a fervent follower of all things cycling, I found Almand’s effort and personality, as reflected in his daily blog posts, extremely refreshing. No, he’s not a sponsored professional; he’s a government and climate policy student. Yes, he was out to break a record, but after immersing myself for hours in his writing, I was struck by how pure this athlete and his feat are.

Successful ultra-endurance cyclists like Lachlan Morton, although interesting characters, come off as driven and one-dimensional in their pursuit of records. Social media and produced content have them head down, aero, boasting about the miles per day, wattages produced, and average speeds. And, rightfully so. These, after all, are world records in an extremely challenging field.

But Almand’s musings are so different. He figuratively “stopped to smell the roses” often, commenting on the beauty, ruggedness, and differences in landscapes, peoples, and cultures he experienced day to day. And he’s incredibly candid about his fears, anxieties, and other mental, physical, and emotional struggles he plowed through during his quest.

He describes negative events and feelings in detail but bookends these essays with the positive acts and internal dialogues he executed to move onward. His website is a treasure trove of true first-person adventure reporting and countless examples of true resilience.

This story first appeared on GearJunkie.

Australian cyclist Lachlan Morton, 32, just broke one of the more difficult records in long-distance biking. He circumnavigated Australia in 30 days, 9 hours, and 59 minutes. He averaged an astonishing 450km per day to log a new Fastest Known Time for a route known simply as “The Lap.”

Morton is no stranger to extreme ultra-distance cycling events. He famously completed the “Alt Tour” in 2021, riding the entire Tour de France course, including all the motorized transfers, unsupported, and beating the pro peloton to Paris.

In his new FKT, the former WorldTour pro broke a 13-year-old record of 37 days, 20 hours, 42 minutes for Around Australia set by Dave Alley.

‘The Lap’ FKT Standards

According to the Road Record Association of Australia (RRAA), cyclists must complete at least 14,200km to earn an FKT for “The Lap.” Additionally, the rider must pass through at least six of these cities: Adelaide, Brisbane, Broome, Darwin, Esperance, Melbourne, Perth, and Sydney.

Morton began and ended his quest in his hometown of Port Macquarie, New South Wales. To make the most of prevailing winds, his route circled the “Great Southern Country” counterclockwise. He planned on starting most days around midnight to avoid the heat and riding until 5 or 6 pm.

Unlike his other solo record attempts, this time, he had a support crew. This team included his wife, Rachel Peck, and his brother and former pro cyclist, Angus Morton. His childhood coach, Tom Hopper, and friends Karter Machen and Athalee Brown were also along for support.

Lachlan Morton’s journey around Australia

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Morton, who is sponsored by EF Pro Cycling, started turning the pedals on September 4. The EF Pro Cycling website carried a live feed where fans could follow Morton’s “dot” around Australia and daily updates. Morton also authored Instagram posts describing the day’s events.

The daily feeds described Morton riding through every conceivable condition, from bitter cold to blistering heat, through rain, over massive climbs and poor road surfaces, into smoke from controlled fires, and nursing a nagging Achilles tendon injury.

On day 7, Morton had to bunny hop over a kangaroo. Although the route was planned to take advantage of tailwinds, he endured more than his fair share of headwinds.

Day 16 was a major milestone, as Morton rode through the halfway point of The Lap, a touch under 7,100km in and 7,100km to go. It indicated that his pacing was intact and pointed toward a successful FKT attempt.

Morton occasionally enjoyed the support of “dot watchers” when nearing urban centers. On some days, a small group of fans would ride alongside for a bit.

The most interesting day of the around Australia record

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On day 21, on pace to break the Around Australia FKT, Morton spent time executing an act of kindness amid his month-long effort of saving time.

Morton spotted an injured bird on the road while riding. He stopped and bundled it up, moved it to a safe spot off the pavement, and contacted animal rescue to pick up the ailing bird for treatment.

Lachlan Morton’s new FKT by the numbers

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When Morton rolled into Port Macquarie 30 days, 9 hours, and 59 minutes after he started pedaling, he shattered Dave Alley’s record by over a week. He averaged a mind-bending 450km daily, clocking an actual 14,200km on his version of “The Lap.”

Along the way, Morton raised over $81,000 for Australia’s Indigenous Literary Foundation. This organization provides books for children in remote communities, focusing on those that portray stories in their respective native languages.

This article first appeared on GearJunkie.

In the spring of 2022, the powerful all-female adventure team of Hilaree Nelson, Emily Harrington, Brette Harrington, and Christina Lusti embarked on an expedition to Baffin Island, Canada. The objective: climb and ski first descents in some of the most remote terrain imaginable.

This story originally appeared on GearJunkie.

This kind of video isn’t uncommon, and the draw is understandable. Incredible cinematography of expansive landscapes intertwined with epic hero clips of the world’s best mountain athletes doing what they do best are staples in this video category. And, of course, some athlete interviews are in order.

In Earthside, the camaraderie and closeness of the four women are palpable. The excitement of completing the climbing and skiing objectives shines through the eye-popping visuals and engaging interviews. And, appropriately, the “it doesn’t matter what you do, it matters who you’re with” vibe punches through the well-executed storyline.

'Earthside' hits differently

Nelson died last September while skiing down Manaslu, the eighth-highest peak on the planet. She left behind a longtime partner, Jim Morrison (who was present), and two sons.

The posthumous words in Hilaree Nelson’s narration and interviews regarding risk-taking as a mother, partner, and friend couldn’t be more poignant. Especially since Emily Harrington discovered she was pregnant with her first child shortly before departing for Baffin Island. And Brette Harrington lost her partner, Marc-André Leclerc, to an avalanche in 2018.

Why I care

I could have easily and logically given this story to someone who identifies as a female and/or a mother. And maybe I should have.

But as I watched and heard Hilaree Nelson’s recollections of explaining expeditions, risks, and the possibility of not coming home to her kids, it hit me in the gut.

I went through a vehemently contested divorce, during which the mother of my 10-year-old daughter attempted to deny me almost any visitation. This was based on my “reckless” risk-taking in outdoor pursuits, including climbing. Nelson’s narration vindicated my adult life and fight for my child.

But more importantly, Nelson’s words reinforced how I try to raise my child while I’m still Earthside. Nelson’s opening quotes do more justice than I ever could.

“I think there’s so much aversion to risk-taking today. And I don’t think that’s the right direction we should be going. You have to take risks if you want to learn anything about yourself. You have to take risks if you want to expand kind of the self-imposed walls we’ve got around ourselves.”

When my daughter is a little older, I’ll tell her Nelson’s story and perhaps show her this video. And I’ll let her decide for herself the amount of risk she’s willing to endure to grow and feel alive in a world that seems only to commend risk aversion.

The Tour de France often looks like a hectic free-for-all as the tightly packed peloton flies through the French countryside.

Riders must constantly jockey for position with the athletes around them while trying to gain every advantage possible to win. How the tour works can be a bit tough to understand in its own right.

But in addition to the complicated race format, the Union Cycliste Internationale (UCI), which regulates the race, has precise rules that all riders and team members must follow. Some restrictions, like not cutting the course, seem obvious. Others seem arbitrary, unnecessary, or downright weird.

Here are a few of the strangest rules Tour de France riders must follow.

No littering in the Tour de France

Bikes are good for the environment, right? So races should be, too. Per UCI guidelines, athletes face hefty fines and point deductions if they toss gel packaging, bottles, clothing, or trash outside designated zones outlined by race officials.

Wout van Aert has already received one such fine during this year's Tour de France. The UCI levies punishment for littering when an offense meets the following criteria:

"*(A) Rider or team staff disposing of waste or other objects outside of litter zones, or not returned to team or organization staff, not collected by team staff, thrown at a spectator. Disposing waste or other objects in a careless or dangerous manner (e.g., bottle or other object remaining or bouncing back on the road, thrown directly or with excessive force at spectator, causing dangerous manoeuvre by other rider or vehicle, causing spectator to move onto the road)."

The first infraction amounts to roughly a $500 fine and a 25-point deduction from the UCI rankings. A second infraction comes with a $1,000 fine and a 50-point deduction in UCI rankings. A third offense is a bit nastier. It results in a $1,500 fine, a 75-point deduction in UCI rankings, and elimination or disqualification from the race.

No pushes From spectators

The UCI prohibits pushing off of cars, motorcycles, or riders. It also prohibits riders and spectators from pushing other riders.

Fans frequently run next to riders to offer support, particularly during grueling climbs. But a push can have severe consequences for a rider, including a 20% penalty in the points classification for sprints (green jersey) or in King of Mountain (KOM) classifications (polka-dot jersey) and a 10-second penalty per infraction.

No spraying liquid from cars

Sometimes, stages get hot. It's common to see riders spraying themselves with their bottles to get their core temperature down.

The UCI has no problem with riders giving themselves a refreshing spray, but if someone gives them one from a team car, that is just a bridge too far.

The UCI fines drivers about $200 per infraction for giving riders a spray on the course.

No public urination or undressing

If you're on a bike for several hours ingesting enough liquid to float Noah's ark, nature is going to call. It's normal for riders at the Tour de France and other grand tours to stop to relieve themselves during portions of races where they still have time to catch up with the peloton.

According to UCI rules, however, this is a no-no. If race officials identify a rider urinating, they can levy a fine of anywhere from about $200 to $500.

Riders often stop in large packs to relieve themselves simultaneously, so race officials can't get them all.

No assistance from other teams

If you wonder whether cyclists competing in grand tours have any honor, sometimes it just isn't allowed. Per UCI rules, riders cannot receive assistance from other teams during races. This rule comes with a significant punishment as well. Riders can be penalized anywhere from 2 to 10 minutes per infraction, with a roughly $500 fine.

Two minutes is a massive margin in a stage race like the Tour de France. That kind of deficit could be a nail in the coffin of a rider, even if they are at the front of the pack.

Richie Porte learned this lesson the hard way in 2015 when the UCI hit him with a $200 fine and a 2-minute penalty during the Giro d'Italia for accepting a wheel from a racer on another team in the last bit of Stage 10 after he blew a tire. He later abandoned the race.

No personal clothing during podium obligations in the Tour de France

Most cyclists are ready to strip out of their tight-fitting Lycra as soon as possible when the ride is over. Tour de France cyclists are not so lucky.

The UCI requires riders to wear their complete racing kit during podium obligations, including each day's sign-in and the team presentation ceremony. That means some riders will stay in their tight racing outfit for long outside the race, before and after.

Wearing the wrong clothing to the podium can result in about a $500 fine for a rider or sports director.

No feeding outside of designated zones

Riders need to pump their bodies full of nutrition throughout races to remain competitive, but they are not allowed to feed (receive food) whenever they want. Feeds to riders must occur in designated areas.

The UCI penalizes riders who feed in the first 30 km and last 20 km of stage races, including the Tour de France. Those caught feeding in the first stretch face about a $200 fine. Those caught in the last stretch pick up the same fine and a 20-second time penalty.

Any more infractions come with about a $1,000 fine per infraction.

No forearms on handlebars, no 'super-tuck' aero Position

Until 2021, riders would charge into descents in a "super-tuck" position, dropping down to the top tube of their bike to maximize aerodynamics. To make riding safer, the UCI banned the super tuck last year while also forbidding riders from resting their forearms on their handlebars to achieve a time-trial-like position on a standard road bike.

The new rules called on riders to stay on their bikes as designers intended. Does it make racing safer? Maybe?

Sock height in the Tour de France

Yep. The UCI will come for your socks. The UCI in 2018 noted that riders' socks must not extend more than halfway up a rider's shin.

Here's how they put it: "Socks and overshoes used in competition may not rise above the height defined by half the distance between the middle of the lateral malleolus and the middle of the fibula head."

The idea is to limit riders' aerodynamic advantage from their footwear. But socks are pretty low on the priority list if this year's helmets indicate how riders try to find the perfect aero system.

No indecent behavior toward spectators