It’s a good question, this: who in their right mind would willfully hurt themselves doing something they “enjoy”? I’m guessing psychologists have a word for this type of behavior, and I’m not afraid to assume it’s not a flattering one. Indeed, we are all of us completely nuts.
When I’m not filing TPS Reports, it’s my job to help businesses not make technical problems any worse than they already are; occasionally I even help solve one or two. On the good days, I might sit behind my computer and do some actual “work”. On the bad days, I try to remember what I actually did despite being busy from the moment I set foot in the office, if not before that. No matter which of these shapes my days take, I come home feeling ready for a ride.
I generally look forward to that part of the day; to changing into my cycling kit, mulling over which cycling-specific eye wear to use and which lenses, before heading down to the basement where the bikes sleep. I like to spend a few minutes cooing over the stable while I pretend not to have already decided to take out Bike Number One; then I make my final selection and ready it for the road.
Being too fat to climb means that I am prone to snakebite punctures caused by my fat ass bouncing the back tire on the rim, so by necessity, I check my tire pressure before every ride (I’ve never had a flat on a Continental GP4000, by the way). I check my quick releases. If I didn’t clean and oil my chain after the last ride, I’ll clean and oil it. I’ll make sure everything is shifting properly. I’ll check the brakes, hang my helmet from the stem as stipulated in Rule #76, and roll my steed out into the garage where she’ll wait for me while I fill my water bottles and slip into the white ladies.
All the while, work will be knocking around in the back of my mind; be it the annoying things that happened during the day, the items I didn’t get around to, or whatever it is that will transpire tomorrow. As I roll out onto the street, I’ll be preoccupied by little things as I settle into the rhythm of the ride. Things like trying not to get hit by the idiot in a car who seems to be texting his buddies that he Hearts Huckabees. Or I’ll question the decision-making process that encouraged the girl waiting at the bus stop to buy pantaloons that are three sizes too small. Despite these worthwhile distractions, work will be knocking around in the back of my mind.
Climbing – or more precisely, the pain induced by climbing – is my favorite escape. When I’m on form, I’m encouraged by how good it feels to climb at tempo. Let me digress for a moment to point out that what a Velominatus defines as “feels good” diverges a bit from the traditional definition; by “good”, I mean to indicate that there is a tension in the legs – they hurt but feel strong – and the lungs ache as more air is taken from them than can possibly be pumped back into them, but they don’t feel like they are turning inside-out. “Feeling Good” is the only the beginning.
Then comes picking up a spade, cramming it into a mountainous heap of Rule #5, and turning it over on yourself. There is a strange freedom in the sensation you get as the pain rises through your body; it starts in the legs, and then in the lungs. Together they swell and grow into each other as the pain consumes every bit of consciousness and affects the vision – colors become simultaneously more vibrant and desaturated. The mind takes on a singular focus to keep the legs turning, blood pumping, and oxygen flowing; any thought not directly associated with keeping up the effort is pushed out. A cyclist’s pain is a singular, focused peacefulness. From a Buddhist perspective, there might be something of the shadow of Enlightenment to it, that singular Oneness of Focus. Except that pain bit. I’m not a Buddhist, but I think they might not really be into that side of things.
It’s only during those moments – when I’m suffering like sweet baby Jesus on the cross – that my work doesn’t occupy at least some portion of my mind; the singular indulgence of pain clears everything away, and when I climb off the bike – destroyed – and after I’ve finished my post-ride beer (you need carbs after a ride, you know), everything seems just a little bit clearer. By clearing away the noise, it makes all the problems in life seem a little less insurmountable.
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Jens is fucking hilarious. He's a like a little kid full of energy. It's clear that he just loves bike riding and life. What a great example to us all!
Furthermore, I came up with some new Jens-isms.
Jens Voigt pedals so hard at the bottom of climbs that he coasts all the way to the top. The only reason he looks like he's suffering and pedaling slowly at the top of climbs is because he forgot he was in his 53-11 and decided to keep pedaling in it.
Sometimes he even climbs while clenching the brakes so hard that the brakepads melt, because he doesn't need to slow down on the descent, and because if he didn't, he'd drop the whole peloton.
So, I want to get something off my chest. It's been bugging me since the end of the TdF, and probably a lot longer. I can't help it. I like Cavendish. Yes, he has been a pratt in the past. Yes, at the excitement of a sprint finish he has said and done some stoopid things. But for christ's sake, he's a youngster, a wee whippersnapper, but the boy can sprint. I'm not expecting everyone to agree with me... and I look forward to the healthy debate from those who really don't think CavenCanDish, not to mention those who think he's a CavenDouche... but I would like to think we are entering the era of CaveNiceDay.
Last year, he was an arriviste... all brash, all swagger, all cock in hand, cock on head arrogance. Somesay - not me - that he deserved it... but to me, he didn't win the green jersey, and his missplaced sense of self worth was a tad premature. It really irritated me when he bought his Audi R8 sportscar... he said he'd buy one when he won the Green Jersey... and he bought one anyway as he thought his disqualification was ridiculous. OF COURSE IT WAS RIDICULOUS. They're French. Dick. And how could he think any machine could be more beautiful than a bike. Even if built by germans. Cock. HE. SHOULD. NOT. HAVE. BOUGHT. THAT. CAR. If only not to tempt the fates. And lets not talk about his new girlfriend vs. the old. (although lets face it... if we could, we would).
But then this year: the struggles to get fit; the tooth infection; the incredibly misjudged victory celebration on the Tour of California (even if he was going back to the roots of the 'v'sign.. the archers at Agincourt... "you haven't captured us and cut off our bow fingers... so we'll flaunt them at you, you french bastards" type thing - still stooopid); the first few stages of the TdF where he was nowhere; the stage where he forgot to turn the corner; the stage where he sat up and let everyone go past him.....
BUT, then what happened? appalled at himself; reminded of none other than Rule 5 itself from Maestro Petacci himself; he dug deep, took a gun check, and discovered that he was packing the full nine-yards: WIN; WIN; WIN; WIN; WIN (I paraphrase). If this was golf, he'd be playing the trick shot where he uses the back of the putter to lob the ball over his shoulder to sink it. Look: I really care; I really can't help crying like a girl (and - as my wife reminds me - he's a really good looking girl... those eyelashes, those eyes, those cheekbones... thank fuck he has a massive head compared to the rest of his body, and looks a bit like a hunchback off the bike); LOOK: I only win because I have the best lead out train; Oh wait, once Renshaw gets (ridiculously) DQ'd because Garmin are blatantly muscling in on the HTC Lead-out train, I can win in a straight sprint with or without the tattered remnants of my team; I can stick with it over a Category 3 climb to outsprint everyone else to... errrr... 2nd, given the small climbing guy had finished already up the road in a great solo breakaway. But then Bordeaux.. and then the Champs Elysees (spelling not so good after a 2003 Pomerol)... again! But most importantly, he is SOOOOOO much faster than anyone else.... after cycling the same 200km odd that everyone else has ridden. And that's what gets me. Lets not forget (unless I'm misreading the data) that the fastest Etape rider finished this year's stage 30 minutes behind the slowest pro... and here, I'm guessing the slowest pro is a) the Grupetto... or b) Cav or c) the same thing. But he still trashed the best of us. On the flat, noone else on this planet is close. He sucks it up, he spits it out, and he keeps coming back. He wears his heart on his sleeve, and he speaks his mind.
I'm not too ashamed to say: I love Cav. I think he is a breath of fresh air to this sport. I love his vulnerability. I love his strength. I love his power. I love his aggression. I love his youth and naivety. And I love the fact he wants to win at all costs. And yes, I have grown to love his attitude, and can respect his will to win; his right to say whatever the fuck he wants when he's kicked the other 6 billion people on this rock's arses; and I love the fact he's british (this last bit is unapolagetically jingoistic... sorry... oops, I really did mean unapolagetically, so didn't mean that)
For next year's VSP TdF: Put me down for Cav for the Green Jersey, and to win every sprint stage that you offer. I think he's the real thing, and we should cut him some slack. I don't think he dopes; I think he's exciting to watch, and he gives it full gas. We should celebrate his freakish genes, his guns of Navarone, and his ability to dish the hurt to the rest of the Alpha Males in the pack.
Come on... how can I be wrong?
@Omar
How about "Jens Voigt called Chuck Norris a pussy and lived" ?
@Good Geofelephant
Nice. ++1.
@roadslave
Wow. I'm partly digusted and partly in agreement.
OK. There was some good racing. I even stopped hating Contador. But here's the thing about Cavendouche: The fuck has to learn some humility. Christ, he's young, but so is Le Petite Frere Grimpeur. That dude is a class act. Telling people to stop booing Contador? However you feel about Chaingate (really? Are fucking calling it that?), his reaction at the press conf was A+ sportsmanship, in the face of almost certain defeat, no less. It's easy to be a good sport when you're winning; to be one when you're losing? Other ballgame altogether.
Cav fucking spat on Haussler when he was the cause of a devastating crash. Not cool. He fucked up constantly in the first bit of the Tour. But, yes - you're right. To come back from that hole he was in to win, win, win, win? That was top-notch Rule 5. Swallow the pride, and step up. Well done, my son.
I like the brash thing. I fucking LOVED Cipo. He was an Arrogant Fuck, First Class. But in a class act way. Always respecting the right rules, always respecting the history and culture and etiquette of the sport. Humble when appropriate, dressing like fucking Caesar when appropriate.
Cav is a sprinter like none other; his speed is unequalled, he can win with or without a train. Bravo. But he needs to grow up, and he needs to show the sport and, more importantly, his colleagues the respect the deserve.
He was disqualified from that sprint last year. Yup. He deviated from his line, like he did at the Tour de Suisse. The officials relegated him before Hushovd even protested. He broke the sacred rules of sprinting. To call that, as he did, "the worst sporting judgement in history" is way the fuck off. He needs to take a long look in the mirror and realize that taking responsibility for your mistakes is not only professional, responsible, it is the most liberating thing you can do in the face of failure.
Next time he takes out a bunch of guys in a bunch Sprint and causes them immeasurable losses in terms of injury possibly forcing them to miss the Tour, he should post a video on YouTube and apologize. If he does that, I'll be a lot closer to liking him.
@frank
Yup, I second that. As I struggled my way up and down some vicious steep hills in a howling wind this afternoon, feeling more than a little too fat to climb and completely rooted (Antipodean for "fucked") from a savage week in the office until 2am every night, I found my mind wandering from its usual focus on stroke and pain and reflecting instead on roadslave's post. Have I been too hard on Cavendouche? Is it just "tall poppy syndrome" (as we call it down here - i.e. the enthusiasm for cutting the great and good down to our own minute size)? Have we allowed his (reasonably regular) misdemeanours to overshadow his achievements?
And then I thought - no, fuck it, the kid needs to grow up and stop dishing up these petulant, self-centred, Gen-Y wanker displays, and instead take a leaf or two out of a couple of books further up the road (at least when the road points up) - the books belonging to the Grimplet and Paella Balls. They're the same age (a year or two either way seems bugger all from where I sit on the age scale). And yet they both constantly outdistance him by orders of magnitude when it comes to showing the type of maturity, calmness under fire and all-round class which distinguish the merely very good sportsmen from the sporting icons. Not that Grimpy or Brety are icons. Yet. But they're a shitload closer than the spoilt little "All About Me" man from Manx. Sure, he's preternaturely fast, with or without his train. Sure he pulled himself back from a shitty start to the race. Sure, he can Rule 5 it sufficiently over the bumps to pull off some stunning wins. All good stuff. But that's training and genetics. To become the type of icon his extraordinary speed deserves, he needs to learn to be a man. And I hope he does. I really do. Whe he's not being a prat he comes across as a rather nice chap. But he's not even on the podium in the race to be a grown up yet. And there ain't no train to get him there.
@Steampunk
Great video. Those guys look excellent for a rest day in the Tour. I'd be in bed.
And I loves my chainsaw. What an invention. I'd rather cut my own arm off than use an axe or bow-saw to deal with trees. A chainsaw with a sharp chain. so money.
But really I need to sneak in some lame guesses for the race tomorrow. I can't believe the winner won't be a TdF rider. Who is todays equivalent of Bettini? Who has massive form from the Tour but did squat while he was in the tour? I don't know, I've got nothing as usual. So I'm going for Mr Weight of a Nation because I need him to win something big.
1. Ryder H
2. J-Rod
3. Kanstantsin Sivtsov
4. Jurgen Van de Walle
5. Nicolas Roche
@Steampunk
The best video. I wish Jens was my dad.
Hey all, good stuff here, the rest day video was perfect.
My relationship with pain is inversely related to how fit I am. If I am fat and out of shape then most things on a bike are painful. If, on the other hand, I have 5% body fat and am doing 5-700K a week and am peaking then nothing was ever painful and the longer and harder just became a new and different experience.
Ok I have not had that experience in a long time but that is how I remember it. On those days where it all came together it was magical and not that it was easy but it was never painful.
Those are the memories that I cherish and feel lucky to have had them.
P.S. Frank I hate to bring this up but are you sure I own the green jersey...? You should check because I think there has been a mistake... (oh shit I am such a fat looser now).
@Geof,
Paella Balls is what I'm going to call all my Spaniard friends from now on.