You light up my legs, you give me hope. Photo JEFF PACHOUD/ GETTY
Cycling is made up of hundreds of minute details, forming a larger entity which is generally simplified and viewed as the intrinsically simple act of riding––or racing––a bicycle. Getting on and pedalling, fast, may be the crux of winning the Tour, Roubaix, or the local B grade crit, but if it is held as the most important aspect, then the real substance, beauty, and purpose is sadly lost.
Races such as the Tour form a part of that, sure, but it’s the micro-elements––ones that go far beyond a bunch of men kindly letting another man beat them soundly while looking like he couldn’t beat time with a stick––that most pundits or once-a-year fans will undoubtedly overlook, or possibly choose to ignore, or maybe just think are too ridiculous to bother talking about. Like lights on legs.
As another insomnia-curing stage unfolded before , we looked for something, anything, to focus on to prevent throwing a brick through the screen at a yellow abomination, or pour hot tar into our ears to drown out the senile uncle who can’t remember your (or anyone else’s) name and just won’t fuck off. Anything. Rain clouds on the horizon. Some running-selfie-dickhead falling over. An attractive spectator. A dog. Anything.
The rain came. It provided hope. It delivered little in the way of affecting the race, yet provided the best imagery of the three week slumber. Imagery that has been played out for decades, whenever rain comes to a bike race. Among the trees the black tarmac glistened, drops as big as Pharmy’s ball cascading down, bouncing off in futile attempts to return to the sky, repeatedly failing against the unbeatable gravity. Newly-formed rivers intersected paths with various-sized rubber donuts. Skin burnt dark and coated with an invisible paint that doesn’t colour but enhances. The yellow/white glow of light from a convoy of superfluity, adding little of value or need. Except to enhance the chiseled, sinewed pistons before it, illuminating every revolution of an unrelenting rhythm, a glow that elicits warmth even when coldness, loneliness, pain and monotony are the cardinal factors as witnessed by the demeanor of the protagonists.
We are all voyeurs. If we can’t get no satisfaction from an actual battle, then we instinctively look for other comforts, the familiar. Lights on legs on a rainy day in the French Alps is surely the Cycling equivalent of a tot of whiskey in front of the fire.
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View Comments
@RobSandy
I'm confused, why would you stop shaving just because you're not racing? You're still a cyclist, are you not?
For all you guys with leg fetishes, you may want to have a look at the Olympic rugby matches. I doubt those dudes would climb well but, it wouldn't be because they're too fat to do so. More like because their legs weigh a ton. Massive, powerful guys they are. And, Rule V compliant I should think.
@Mikael Liddy
Insulation? - it gets cold up them there valleys butt.
@Teocalli
Because I want to be like Peter Sagan. I may decide I can't bear it. Got a race in early September so it wont be til after that anyway.
@ErikdR
As a fellow (adopted) Scandinavian I can endorse this. You get lovely clear crisp autumn days, from time to time. A bit chilly, but by no means leg warmer weather.
@dinosaurJR
Indeed. And I'm always fascinated by the huge difference the time of day can make. In autumn last year, I managed to come out on some very nice clear-weather bike rides; some relatively early in the morning, and others in the afternoon. The morning rides were almost invariably in full winter regalia, including gloves, a beanie cap worn under the helmet etc., but for the afternoons, riding with bare arms and legs was often eminently doable.
Which part of Scandinavia did you end up in, if I may ask (and from where, originally?)
@Teocalli
I would have thought the butt valley would be one of the warmer places on the body...
From Dan Craven's "Live" ITT tweets:
Beaston wheels with all the spokes. #feeltheaero #rule40 #legit #kasual There are park riders with more kit than me today.
Apparently, his valves are aligned with his labels per Rule #40
Apologies, above was supposed to be posted under The Rules.......Admins feel free to delete the above, has been properly posted under Rules as well.....
I think this fits as the original article is about legs - but what a magnificent beast of a man Fabian Cancellara is on a TT bike. Just wow.