I profess to understand every mannerism and habit of the Cyclist. I’m Dutch, and I’m a writer, so it all comes pretty naturally. The problem is that thinking you understand something and actually understanding it are two completely different things; the first is confidence, the second is wisdom; there is no Venn diagram that has an intersection between the two. As we move inexorably towards 2016, I humbly seek to temper my confidence with a (light) dusting of hubris.
I’ll start off, a full three days shy of 2016, with my first acknowledgement of not understanding why we do certain things: this leaning against stuff rather than unclipping business. When I say “things”, I mean objects like fences, light poles, cars, other riders, small marking wands that under no circumstances can hold the weight of a Cyclist, rubbish bins, traffic cones and any other paraphernalia that looks inviting.
It is an undeniable fact that Eddy looks entirely badass in this photo, leaning away like putting a foot down on the tarmac would be an affront to the soles of his shoes. There is, of course, a good reason for it: he finally got his toe clips and straps sorted just perfectly, and he is not about to start over on that sordid affair just to avoid putting his handprint on the team car. We, the modern Cyclist, have clipless pedals and they are quite easy to sort and there is very little at risk when it comes to unclipping, apart from the humility of making a balls of it and falling over like a twunt.
Which brings me back to this irresistible desire we have to not unclip from our pedals. Twunt Tumbles aside, there is really no good reason for us not to unclip any time we come to a halt, a practice which itself should admittedly be kept to a minimum. Unclipping is a prime opportunity to demonstrate to the world our ability to Wait Properly. But none of us want to do it. We’d rather wobble about in some sort of balancing act as if putting a foot down were admitting defeat to gravity or the coriolis effect or some other such nonsense.
And careful with the car lean, you might just piss off the wrong driver.
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@The Pressure
I think it's spelled "mange." Either way, it's not pleasant . . .
I hate people who can't trackstand trying, and either hitting something or falling off or doing the last second desperate unclip.
OTOH, a good trackstand is the perfect example of casually deliberate. Roll up to the lights, stop right on the line and stay there, preferably seated.
@The Grande Fondue
Exactly that, and particularly on uphill intersections where you ride away smoothly while the standard 'casually deliberate' crew fight to clip in, weave into curbs, and otherwise make unmerry.
@The Grande Fondue
talk me through this seated track stand, it has me intrigued...
@Oli
Now, where's that like button?
@Mikael Liddy
It's like a normal trackstand only one remains seated.
Just so youse know, Robert Forstemann apparently ended up on his arse at London's revolution track series' longest lap. Even professional sprinters can screw it up.
@frank
But hopefully without the twunting yellow band...
@Oli
well, yeah I got that much. Just intrigued to see it performed in the wild.
For me the bloke with the foot down gets away best, and Chris Hoy only comes over the top up the road.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mUF7OSoUSOI
So unless you're a eleven-time world champion and six-time Olympic champion you're better off foot down, and even then it's not much advantage.