One of the great things about cycling as a sport is the regularity with which any of us can find ourselves lining up for a race with some properly good riders. It’s especially prevalent in the UK, where traditional races like time trials can attract an entry that runs from veterans who are mainly there to see their friends, to international riders looking to hone form, or test themselves, or in some cases just have a day out.
Sir Bradley Wiggins used to turn up to local races – criteriums as well as time trials – at a point where he was an Olympic champion. And Alex Dowsett‘s devotion to the local club scene led one journalist to enquire as to why exactly Team Movistar were so keen to win the Maldon and District CC ’10’.
Multiple national champion on the bike and award-winning author Michael Hutchinson writes for Cycling Weekly every week.
What’s interesting is the reaction of the other riders when a big-name rider rolls up to the race. For the most part it’s an insouciance that we should be proud of. Almost no other group confronted with one of their heroes in real life and doing the very thing that makes them a hero could muster the same sort of indifference we do. It’s only just this side of rudeness, and I say well done us.
I’ve known occasions where a star’s bike has attracted more attention than they did. I saw Ed Clancy walk out of a race HQ and have to clear a small crowd from round his bike so he could ride to the start of the race. One of the crowd was audibly disappointed that some guy had taken the cool bike away.
It’s not the universal reaction, though. Some people faced with a ‘star’ go for the cross-examination. “What’s the best tyre?” “What do you eat before a race? And during a race? And what brand of oats would you make that with?”. “What training should I do? I’d like to go faster, and I need to get my threshold power up by 200 watts”.
I’ve never been a properly big rider, but there was an era when I did used to win quite a lot. I sometimes got the cross-examination, because I wasn’t famous enough to generate indifference. Often from the nicest of people, but they’d follow you round before and after the race. I once told one of them (he was getting on my nerves, to be honest) to always stir his porridge clockwise, and he took it on board with such a straight face that I think there’s every chance he still does it, while he waits for his 200 watts.
That’s annoying, but it’s also kind of charming. Less charming is the lecture. Cycling is full of experts with advice to unload, and they are very democratic about it. A friend overheard someone telling Wiggins that his time trial position was all wrong (“Your arms are too close together, Wiggo, you can’t breathe properly like that.”) while Wiggins was actually wearing the world champion’s skinsuit.
Beyond the lecturers are the shoulder-chippers. Someone once said to me, “I’d be better than you if I’d had all the advantages that you do. If I didn’t have my stupid children I’d have been able to train properly. If you don’t have bloody kids you’re basically a cheat”. In his defence, I think he used to say the same thing to his kids.
In some ways the truest test is what someone does with the results. The insouciant takes the result as it is. The cross-examiner uses it to work out how he’d have done at the last World Championships. The lecturer works out how much faster the star rider could have gone. And the shoulder-chipper rips the result sheet up with an incoherent roar and gets back to regretting the existence of his children, who will one day do the same for him in his old age.
Acts of Cycling Stupidity
A story that I once heard via a bike rider, and was doubtful about until a few weeks ago when I heard it again via a team director.
In UCI time trials, the commissaires will accept a van as the following vehicle for early riders in a team, to preserve team cars for later starters. One rider at a World Tour race a few years ago was surprised to find the team chef waiting to drive behind him, in the team kitchen truck. This was fine till the rider punctured, and the chef had to leap out of the truck with a spare wheel. The result was, say both chef and rider, a bit of a casserole. I also hope the chef used the team radio to read out the day’s dinner specials.
Great Inventions of Cycling: Overshoes
It’s hard to pin down the first overshoe, because elements of normal Victorian and Edwardian dress, like spats, show an element of crossover.
Through the era of pedals with toe clips and straps, overshoes had to be relatively thin to fit into the toe clip. The strap would wear holes in the overshoes, so they didn’t last long. Often as not a mid-century rider just had cold feet, and will tell you now that it never did them any harm. But bear in mind that the reason most of them walk funny now is that they lost most of their toes to frostbite.
Overshoes got a lot easier to use with clipless pedals in the 1990s, and developed an exciting variety of uses. Originally a means of keeping your feet warm in winter, it wasn’t long before they also became a means of making your feet more aerodynamic.
More recently, riders have adopted them as a way of keeping a nice new pair of shoes clean. They’re also useful if you’re a pro seeking to hide a pair of non-sponsor shoes.
They can also be used to disguise a pair of disgusting 15-year-old shoes with knackered heels and gaffer tape instead of the original closure and save you a fortune in keeping up with your team-mates’ S-Works habit.
And finally, for the financially careful pro rider, they can be used to disguise a pair of disgusting 15-year-old non-sponsor shoes.
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