Categories: The HardmenThe Rules

The Rule #5 Talk

Rik van Looy, The Emperor, proving that Steel is Real

Have a look around to see who you find occupying your immediate vicinity. Presently, I am surrounded by a pleasant-seeming bunch. Some are even going so far as to appear happy or at least not displeased; all of them are pale and none of them fit. My attention is drawn, however, to a a portly mustached gentleman who strode into the hotel lobby with an enormous degree of self confidence and who as such feels justified in wearing an ill-fitting t-shirt bearing a phrase which asserts that real men wear orange. While I have no reason to disagree with the assertion, I assume he is optimistic that through wearing said t-shirt, he will be mistaken for a “real man” and is not in fact attempting to disprove the point through contrast.

I’m not picking on this gent not because I’m harboring any sense of ill-will towards him, nor for the fact that he strode into the hotel lobby carrying a twelve pack of Yuengling Black and Tan. I’m picking on him mostly because I have come to understand that “real men” are capable of crushing things like soda cans and their opponents’ Will to Live, while from the looks of it, the only thing he’s crushed lately was a ham sandwich whose remnants I’m fairly certain I spotted on the front of his bright orange t-shirt.

Surprisingly, our Orange Hero isn’t even the most disappointing case in the room I’m occupying. The guy in the camouflage, knee-long shorts and flip-flops is an example at least two degrees worse; if he harbors hopes of blending in to anything – most of all foliage – I suggest he spend some time outside to brew himself up a tan that goes beyond TV Translucent (I’m not sure what the pantone value is for that). He should also try lifting his computer some time, to build muscle mass, rather than wheeling it about in a trolly. But worst of all by a considerable gap is the skinny-fat chap with carefully disheveled hair who is presently chastising the bartender – who is serving free drinks to hotel patrons – for not having his preferred brand of vodka on hand. If this guy took half the time he spent worrying about his hair and invested it in not worrying about his free drink, he’d be three-quarters less of a douche. (My dad would call this guy a zacht gekookt ei, or soft-boiled egg.)

All this to say that as a society we have, by and large, become soft. While I want to be careful not to paint too broadly with that brush as no one is to say what hardships people have been through, on balance we seem to expect to take more and to be asked to give less in return. Our ancestors worked harder than we did, in worse conditions, for less reward but found satisfaction in a job well done and an honest day’s work. Yet today, we are overly dependent on t-shirts to send a message about who we are rather than our actions. We fill our conversations with sentiments of entitlement and rights, when in fact we are entitled to nothing and we have the right only to the things we find within ourselves.

As Cyclists, however easy our lives may be, the bicycle brings us some degree of hardship and struggle. For many of us, our easy lives are what draw us to the bicycle in pursuit of a harder life. This is, of course, in stark contrast that to the riders who came before us, the legion of Fausto Coppi, Rik van Looy, and even the comparatively well-off Eddy Merckx who chose the bicycle as a means of escape from a harder life into an easier one. But nevertheless, it sets us appart. The lessons the bicycle teaches us can be applied to the rest of our lives, and may be used to guide the uninitiated.

Our pets go untrained because we are too busy, distracted, or stressed out to show them the discipline they crave. Our children scream as our dependence on secondary care blurs the boundary between parent and friend. Society’s BMI is pushed ever upward as our appetite for a meal grows inversely with our willingness to exercise. By and large, our dependence on the material is fueled by the immaterial.

No child is too young, no adult too old. This is the time to Obey the Rules, Lead by Example, and Guide the Uninitiated. But most of all, this is the time for us to set an example and have The Talk. The Rule #5 Talk. And remember what Will Fotheringham refers to as Rule #5.b: Eddy Never Complained.

VLVV.

frank

The founder of Velominati and curator of The Rules, Frank was born in the Dutch colonies of Minnesota. His boundless physical talents are carefully canceled out by his equally boundless enthusiasm for drinking. Coffee, beer, wine, if it’s in a container, he will enjoy it, a lot of it. He currently lives in Seattle. He loves riding in the rain and scheduling visits with the Man with the Hammer just to be reminded of the privilege it is to feel completely depleted. He holds down a technology job the description of which no-one really understands and his interests outside of Cycling and drinking are Cycling and drinking. As devoted aesthete, the only thing more important to him than riding a bike well is looking good doing it. Frank is co-author along with the other Keepers of the Cog of the popular book, The Rules, The Way of the Cycling Disciple and also writes a monthly column for the magazine, Cyclist. He is also currently working on the first follow-up to The Rules, tentatively entitled The Hardmen. Email him directly at rouleur@velominati.com.

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  • @mcsqueak

    @Marcus

    @frank

    Whilst you are an American with misplaced delusions of being Dutch (you really are just another dumb fuck American), face it, deep down you really wish you were Australian. Oh the lyrical you would wax about Aussie cyclists and their panache. But instead, you come up with shit reasons to dislike someone like Simon Gerrans.

    Ok, let's not be silly now. No one except Minion actually wishes they were Australian.

    It seems to be a very important issue: wannabe Australians

  • @frank

    A strong case could be made for Rabottini giving us the Rule #5 moment of the year (so far). After 150+km away, to latch on to J-Rod like that and still win the stage (Roddie doesn't seem to have gifted the stage, either, definitely kept putting in the digs up to the end.)

    Turn on the sound and listen for the Italian commentator's head to pop in excitement at the end. David Harmon's head also almost popped.

    I see what you mean. Grandissimo!

  • @versio

    @frank

    A strong case could be made for Rabottini giving us the Rule #5 moment of the year (so far). After 150+km away, to latch on to J-Rod like that and still win the stage (Roddie doesn't seem to have gifted the stage, either, definitely kept putting in the digs up to the end.)

    Turn on the sound and listen for the Italian commentator's head to pop in excitement at the end. David Harmon's head also almost popped.

    I see what you mean. Grandissimo!

    (6:26) 2 riders coming in, announcer seems to say to both "Fuck-face!" "Fuck-face!"

  • Thinking Sean Yates: During 50km ride to focus on better position. Discern over bar setup to rotate down with hoods and level out the drops. Realized that flat transition to the hoods is not agreeing with arms or wrist. And will get me lower -- better. And I will get all this checked out with a real fit later.

  • @Marcus
    Agreed - For me, McGee and Rogers are up there. McGee is subjective because I loved to see him ride and he was awesome on the track. Rogers 3 times TT Champ.
    Gerrans has won in all GTs and has a MSR. Still going strong, too.
    Cooke? Has a green jersey. Great? Not so much since then.

  • @marko

    @versio
    Huh?

    Helping Frank's request stack up posts in this thread. And you showed up and have not heard from you in awhile. And this response only helps to stack up more post. And while I am here, I'll post an even more confused image.

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