Growing up, I imagine my dad did his fair share of worrying about me getting into trouble with chemicals and girls. Like with most problems in life, the solution lay in Cycling; training encouraged healthy behavior and once my dad convinced me to shave my legs, no one needed to worry about the girls anymore.
Cycling caused its fair share of problems of its own, but nothing that couldn’t be solved by more Cycling. I stopped spending as much time on my studies as I might have, and all my creative energies and capacity for remembering things were spent on Cycling. Who won the Tour stage on Bastille Day in 1989? Vincent Barteau. Who were the Founding Fathers? Washington, Franklin, Jefferson…Can I use a life line?
We’re big fellas, my dad and I, and that poses certain challenges in Cycling. A love for suffering and for a sense of accomplishment meant our hearts drifted towards the mountains, but our physiology pulled toward the rollers and flat terrain. We were never going to be the fastest, or the skinniest, or the best sprinters. But we could twist the throttle, watch the the needle rev up to just shy of the red line, and hold it there for hours. We could use our momentum to carry speed over the short, steep hills we found dotted along our routes. At one point in my youth, I remember looking at the little ring on my bike and wondering, in all earnestness, what it was there for.
The first time we went to France, I discovered quite handily why that little ring was there. We were not grimpeurs; we were rouleurs, and rouleurs use the little ring when the road points up for a long time. A rouleur, in Cycling, is a rider who goes well on the flat and rolling terrain. They are characterized less by their size, but by their style on the machine; a magnificent stroke tuned to sustained power, not high revolutions or bursts of acceleration. Rouleurs are good time trialists, they do well on short climbs, but are usually found in the laughing group when the profile starts to look like the cardiogram of a teenage boy who just saw his first pair of boobs. Some of them can climb well for their weight, but a rouleur is rarely at the front when the big mountains come along.
Translated from French, rouleur means having wheels, or to roll. But Hinault would use the word roule in conversation in the context of standing, or pushing, on the pedals. I quite like the sound of that. They have a wide power band, but can only win a sprint from a group of one or a small group of other rouleurs – although technically those tend to be more akin to “drag racing” than “sprinting”. They are characterized by being able to gobble up an enormous amount suffering, and are usually just dim enough to wear a wide smile on their face when its happening. And giggle maniacally when describing the suffering afterward.
Winning isn’t everything to the rouleur, which is why they’re often found among the ranks of the domestique. The rouleur needs to study the map, looking for the right terrain with the right kind of lumps if they’re going to have a chance of being at the front in a road race. They are possibly the most exciting to watch race; races of attrition suit them, as does bad weather – and when they’re in the break, they’re usually dumb enough to take their strength for granted and over-estimate themselves. Betting on the rouleur is a gamble, but their style of racing often means that even when they lose, it was a great show.
Merckx bless the rouleur.
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@simonsaunders
Paul Fournel is the best Cycling writer ever. I have read bits and pieces of Velo, but I ready Need for the Bike cover to cover in one sitting. (Need is basically the unillustrated version of Velo.)
@Chris
That first picture was him on his TT bike...
@frank
Well there you go, he was pre-empting the advent of the TT bike.
@Chris
I near spat my coffee in my keyboard there - thought you were still talking about Lampre Man!
@Cyclops
Thanks for sharing . . . Shiny blue overshoes? Back in the 80s a lot of overshoes were made of vinyl and were quite shiny. I had some Sidi and Duegi ones. Didn't keep your feet warm or dry, but looked pretty spiffy. As I was reading your piece I though crazy old mall dude was going to give you a nice pair of soft, tan leather overshoes. Hairy legs? Now that's a nightmare scenario!
@frank
this is a shining example of 'cant judge a book by its cover'. i unfortunately did read it in one sitting. in retrospect, i wish i had read a chapter a day, maybe even stretch it out to a week. should dig it out and bring it to the cogal as part of a book swap..
@Cyclops
When I read your posts, I feel like I'm on drugs. But this is avvesome, truly.
@frank
I checked this out from the LLS (why I always carry my full wallet, so I have my library card at all times) a few months back and brought it on my first honeymoon camping trip. Sitting in the woods around the campfire above a meandering river I read it to the one-year old VMH. She loved it!
She loved it so much, I picked up a copy for her as a birthday gift a few weeks after that trip.
June 19 = wedding anniversary. July 4 = VMH birth date. Two pretty sweet as days, I'd say!
@frank
You're welcome. Who are you calling fat? I only said I was shit, so I'll assume you mean everyone else, ha.
I steer clear of comparing myself in any way shape or form to a pro....it you see me it becomes self explanaotry....gorilla is probably the best description (although I most certainly do not have gorilla pants). However if I were ever to deign to describe myself in any way to those that I most admire, it would always be to the rouleurs...give me a head wind and let me find a rythm and I will work like donkey!