Previous Posts

  • Another new follower December 9, 2018Stendhal1922

    I too just discovered you, after admiring your work on the abandoned V site.

    For some fun, I’ve posted extensive new content on the V site, in the comments to what appears to be it’s final article (the socks article from January 2018).   Check it out!

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  • Paul Sherwen by Wiscot December 5, 2018Teocalli1913

    Lead photo by Cycling Archives

    With the recent, and way-too-soon, passing of Paul Sherwen, this article commemorates a rider who, while not a superstar on the bike, became one talking about the bike. In the days since his death, no-one has had a bad word to say about Sherwen. He was a pro’s pro. I vaguely remember seeing a documentary back in the late 70s when Sherwen was riding with Fiat (probably his first Tour). It covered his experiences at the Tour de France and I vividly remember two things: the riders had to wash their own kit at the end of the day, and chamois inserts were so bad, some riders put a thin piece of steak down there to soften the ride. How times have changed.

    Paul Sherwen’s career as a rider and commentator covered those changing times, from steel bikes and riders washing their own kits to carbon fiber and team buses with laundry facilities. One thing never changed, that the sport still shows respect to tough-as-nails professionals – such as Sherwen.

    As we all know, a certain rider from a southern US state famously threw out a “look” at Jan Ullrich on L’Alpe d’Huez during the Tour de France in 2001. It was a look that said “I’m outta here and there’s nothing you can do about it.” Given the Texan’s masterfully measured intake of pharmaceuticals, there was indeed little Ullrich could do.

    Let’s turn the clock back to 1978 and the Tour de France. Two young professionals are lined up at the stage start, ready to do the bidding of their team leaders. English-speaking riders were still relatively scarce at the time so these two had something in common besides their status as domestiques.

    On the right we have the 22 year old Paul Sherwen from England. He turned professional in 1978 for Fiat-La France, a French team and whose teammates in the 1978 Tour included no-one of any real accomplishment, although the directeur sportif was the legendary Raphael Geminiani. Sherwen would win seven races as a professional, establishing himself as an excellent and tough domestique who fully earned his few opportunities to win.

    On the left is the 22 year old Sean Kelly from Carrick-on-Suir in the Irish Republic. He turned professional a year earlier than Sherwen in 1977 and rode the 1978 Tour for Flandria, a Belgian team containing such hard men as Marc DeMayer, Michel Pollentier, Freddy Maertens, Joaquim Agostinho, Rene Bittinger and Marcel Tinazzi. He would win a stage of the Tour that year, outsprinting Gerrie Knetemann on stage six to Poitiers. He would go on to lead teams for 12 years and win Paris-Nice seven times.

    However, in 1978, both riders’ palmares were very slim indeed as their job was not to win for themselves, but to assist others in doing so. Their futures were unknown, but surely neither could guess that they would both later land gigs as commentators – and both in English. At the time that would have been regarded as highly unlikely as Kelly’s grasp of the English language was famously difficult to ascertain. He was a rider who, legend has it, nodded in affirmation to a question asked on radio. English-speaking teammates found it easier to communicate with Kelly in French.

    But back to the expression on Sherwen’s face. The look Sherwen is giving Kelly is, to me, one of pure disdain. “Who is this barely intelligible tattie-howking peasant from Ireland, and why is he next to me? I rode for the Altringham Road Club, he rode for the Carrick Wheelers.”

    Kelly, on the other hand, does a great job of not caring. His crystal ball says “I will become an all-time great. I will win five stages of the Tour, four green jerseys, nine Monuments, podium twice in World Championships and win a Grand Tour. In 1984 alone I will win 33 races, you will become an apologist for one of the greatest cheaters in the history of sport.”

    Be careful who you give the evil eye to.

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  • Paul Sherwen December 3, 2018Teocalli1865

    A small photo montage tribute to Paul Sherwen who died December 2nd 2018.

     

    Obviously we know him most recently from his commentary and for being Phil Liggett’s autocorrect.  Though perhaps one of his most notable achievements was not in winning but on the first day in the mountains of the 1985 Tour de France where he crashed in the first kilometre before the race had left Épinal.   Unfortunately it was a day when Bernard Hinault decided to put the peloton through the grinder.  With zero chance of catching the group, Sherwen rode alone over six mountains accompanied by a Genderme outrider.

    After 6 hours Sherwen had to thread through the returning Tour Caravan and was over an hour behind the stage winner, and 23 minutes outside the cut-off.  His courage and endurance were rewarded by reinstatement.  He continued in the rest of that Tour and went on to finish what would be his last Tour.

    His Palmares is as follows.

    1976

    • 1st Archer Grand Prix
    • 1st Premier Calendar

    1977

    • 2nd British National Road Race Championships(Amateur)
    • 2nd Premier Calendar
    • 1st Archer Grand Prix
    • 3rd in GP de France
    • 3rd in Paris-Roubaix Espoirs

    1980

    • 3rd in Aix-en-Provence
    • 3rd in Stage 2 Critérium du Dauphiné Libéré
    • 3rd in Stage 3 Ronde van België, Brussel

    1981

    • 2nd in Gistel
    • 2nd in San Sebastian
    • 3rd in San Sebastian (b)
    • 1st in Tour du Hainaut Occidentale

    1982

    • 1st in Stage 1 Tour Méditerranéen, Béziers
    • 3rd in Stage 5 part b Tour Méditerranéen, Monaco
    • 3rd in Tour du Haut Var, Seillans
    • 3rd in Ruiselede

    1983

    • 1st in GP de Denain
    • 1st in San Sebastian (b)
    • 1st in Stage 3 Quatre Jours de Dunkerque, Saint Quentin
    • 2nd in General Classification Quatre Jours de Dunkerque
    • 2nd in Stage 3 Driedaagse van De Panne, De Panne
    • 3rd in Paris, Paris

    1984

    • 3rd in GP de Wallonie, Charleroi

    1985

    • 2nd in Clermont-Ferrand
    • 2nd in Great Yarmouth
    • 3rd in Stafford
    • 3rd in Stage 1, Tour of Ireland, Wexford
    • 3rd in Sint-Denijs

    1986

    • 1st British National Circuit Race Championships(Professional)
    • 13th in Stage 5, Tour of Ireland
    • 23rd overall Tour of Ireland

    1987

    • 1st British National Road Race Championships(Professional)
    • 3rd in Stafford

     

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  • Lust at first sight December 3, 2018chuckp1876

    WARNING: Bike porn!

    Stopped at Green Lizard on yesterday’s ride. Combination bike shop, workout studio, and coffee/beer cafe. They had this on display. Wilier Cento10 Pro. Disc with thru axles.  Ramato. Needless to say … I want.

     

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  • It’s beginning to feel like Christmas December 1, 2018chuckp1861

    Yes, I know y’all are going to give me sh*t for not having the chain on the proper gears and leaving my lights on the bike for the pic. But just had to stop and take a pic with these a little out of the ordinary Christmas lawn decorations in my ‘hood because they are matchy-matchy with my bar tape.

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  • Reality Bites by Wiscot November 29, 2018Teocalli1663

    Lead Photo credit: Kennedy Bros. Publishing.

    Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit. If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain and bitter; for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself. Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.

    So wrote Hoosier poet Max Ehrmann in 1927 in his poem Desiderata. The most pertinent lines, perhaps the most universal, are there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself. This is something that cyclists are particularly aware of and professions more than anyone. In his marvelous book Domestique, by Charley Wegelius, he recounts how, after a stellar amateur career, he joined the pro ranks with high hopes of continued success. Alas, it was not to be. However, realizing he wasn’t going to be amongst the next superstars of the sport, he resolved to be the best damn domestique he could be. This he duly did and was in demand throughout his career as a rider who could be counted on to work hard for his designated leader.

    Domestique by Charlie Wegelius

    The lead picture of one of Merckx’s domestiques amplifies the point. There was only one star on the Molteni team: Merckx. The others were there to serve. It’s an extreme case, but when you’re riding for the best, it quickly puts your humble abilities into perspective. And perhaps this is where cycling differs from other team sports: the hierarchy of talent. Not just roles, but talent. Men—professionals—who have talent most of us can only dream about, are told, in no uncertain terms, that their job is to work for someone else, to fetch a bottle, give up a wheel, sacrifice their ambitions so another can realize theirs. It is a role not easily accepted, but one that must be if continued employment is sought in professional cycling.

    Wegelius could have taken the huff and found another line of work but he chose to stay and be the best domestique in the bunch. He discusses how his fame and popularity grew as team captains such as Di Luca succeeded. The cognoscenti knew how important he was, how good he was, even though he never crossed the line first. There is no shame in this; quite the contrary, there is pride in being as in demand as others who win. You have a place in the firmament. It might not be glamorous, but how many of our jobs are? We do the best we can, we collaborate, we strategize to move on, consolidate skills and contacts. Professional cycling is like life and vice versa.

    The fortunes of time change and affect us all. In life, as in cycling, it’s not a bad idea to keep a spare tire and pump handy for when you’re on your own and the last team car has gone by. In short, be self-sufficient in mind and possessions and survive to ride another day.

     

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  • Anatomy of a Criterium by RobSandy November 22, 2018Teocalli1835

    I, like a lot of racing cyclists, race plenty of Crits.  My local series are both on off-road circuits; Maindy and Llandow.  Llandow is generally considered to be the bigger prize; it’s further away, tends to attract a tougher crowd and the conditions here make the racing harder (and better).

    Maindy Stadium, Cardiff (1960s)

    A motor racing circuit in its other life, Llandow is a 1.3km loop of a vague oblong shape, with a chicane thrown in to make positioning in the bunch crucial, and the finish straight a 1.5% drag to really kick you in the head each lap.  Add in to this its position near the coast, which brings a reliable block headwind down the back straight, you have a race which requires a great deal of determination just to survive and a good amount of tactical nous to compete.  Plus good legs, obviously.

    Llandow Circuit Photo by Research Gate

    The Crit I am going to describe is only notable for one reason; I remember it really clearly.

    Most races blur into one for me but the way this one played out has stuck in my mind.  I was also involved at each key point in the race – which did me a fat lot of good when it came to sprinting for the win – as we will see.  I remember pretty well what I was feeling and thinking at each stage, so I’ll try and describe this to give a bit more of an insight into the race than a pure race report.

    This particular race was a Category 3/4, meaning it was more or less open to complete beginners and also some decent racers too.  It was on an evening at the end of May so it wasn’t particularly warm, but it wasn’t particularly windy either.  A blessing at Llandow if you plan to be on the front, or off the front at all.  Though of note, the wind was coming from the opposite direction to usual, i.e. down the home straight.

    We had a decent size team, 5 of us, and had a vague plan before the race which was mostly to get in any and all breaks that were attempted and assuming the race was all back together for the final, to try and set up a lead out.  I have to be honest and say that I was hoping that it’d be me that got led out – I have a good kick especially from a reduced bunch, so if someone could give me a wheel and get me near the front I’d fancy my chances at finishing in a good position.

    One of my team mates went off the front almost from the gun, taking one or two others with him.  I was pleased about this as it meant all I had to do was sit in the wheels towards the front of the bunch and watch for any moves to bridge the gap.  For the time being, I wasn’t working and the few laps he was away for gave me a chance to warm up properly.  My memory is that this stage of the race felt pretty easy.

    My team mate was brought back pretty quickly and there was a bit of a lull while everyone looked for someone else to do the work (especially up the home straight, into the wind and up the hill).  I rolled through at the front but was careful not to pull too hard.  Another break went shortly afterwards and this time we got 2 riders into it; again I tried to sit up near the front, taking shelter in the wheels but not riding on the front or peeling off quickly when I got there.  I wasn’t actively blocking but I wasn’t helping either.  My feeling was the break was too small to stay away for the whole race (which would be about 45 minutes long) so I was happy to bide my time, watch and wait.

    The speed of the chase was quite high, so it wasn’t easy maintaining a position near the front, but it was better to burn a few matches doing that than drop back too far.  The pace went up and down as the break was caught and the cat and mouse on the front continued.  Then, after about 25 minutes of racing, as we rode around the last corner into the home straight, the whole front of the bunch seemed to collectively decide that they didn’t want to be on the front going up the hill into the wind and moved over to the outside of the track.  I was left coming out of the bend carrying plenty of speed and a clear track in front of me.  I didn’t think twice, and didn’t really change my pedalling, but clung to the inside of the bend and pushed on up the hill.

    I quickly saw I’d caught the bunch napping and opened a gap, over which one rider bridged before the end of the straight and we immediately started working together.  As he pulled through to take a turn I tried to work out what sort of a rider he was, what sort of a breakaway companion he’d be.  I did this almost instantly and without even thinking about it; I checked out the state of his bike (clean? Aero?), his kit (I think I noted he had a skinsuit on – good sign), his pedalling stroke and whether he had shaved legs (this is true and he did and it was a good sign).  I probably even tried to spot if he was riding with a power meter or not.  All of this went out of the window as he took his turn on the front and I was instantly doing 400w just to hold his wheel.  That first turn told me all I needed to know.

    So we rode together for a while, always keeping a small gap on the bunch, which shrank for most of the lap and then stretched out while the bunch played the usual games of no-one wanting to do the work up the hill.  We were committed at this point so riding more or less full gas the whole time.  We quickly fell into a rhythm of doing 2/3rds of a lap turns – so we alternated who led up the drag.

    I can’t remember how long but we’d done a good few laps when another few riders bridged across.  I think it increased the group size to 5 or 6 and as we still had a gap I now started to feel we had a chance of staying away.  I made sure I pulled hard at the front, keeping the speed smooth and as high as possible but not doing too much work.

    There were 4 laps to go when I glanced around at the top of the home straight and realised that we’d been caught – the bunch was back on our wheels.  Part of me was immediately relieved – now caught I could slip back into the bunch, into the refuge of the wheels to see if I could recover enough to contest the sprint.  I was sitting 3rdwheel and the 2 guys in front of me, glanced back, realised the break was over, and pulled to the side.  I was now on the front, more or less soft pedalling and waiting for the bunch to come swarming around.  But they didn’t.  The whole bunch, after chasing a 5 man break for ten minutes, sat on the wheels of the break.

    I was suddenly furious.  Did they expect me to lead the sprint out too?  I suddenly went full-Hinault and stood up on the pedals and kicked.  Hard.  As hard as I could.  I think I probably growled and I definitely said ‘fuck em!’ out loud as I did my best to ride away from everyone.

    It worked.  Kind of.  I dropped the bunch, and pulled maybe 7 others with me.  I dug deep and burned a whole load of matches but we got a gap and all started riding hard.  The bunch wasn’t far behind but I started thinking again that it’d be possible to keep a small gap right to the finish, so the win could be contested between us.  I also noticed that my original breakaway partner was still out front with me.

    Then, the mistake happened that blew my race.  We took the bell, the bunch still gapped but not far behind, when a rider from the breakaway jumped away.  I was on the front at the time and I made a snap decision to chase him.  It hurt.  I was already in the red but I didn’t want him to get away.  This wasn’t the mistake – the mistake was a few hundred metres later when had closed the gap a bit but not caught him.  I looked around to see most of the break still on my wheel, and at that point I should have swung off and let someone else help with the chase.  But I told myself that if I lost my position it would prevent me contesting the sprint.  So I stayed on the front, and at the end of the back straight riders started coming past me; guys from the break who had been watching me blow myself up and also some strong guys who had bridged across.

    The Winner

    Beyond thought at this point, I dug as deep as I could to stay within touching distance of the riders ahead of me; I’d done so much work off the front I didn’t want to come away with nothing.  I came around the last bend, realised I was probably already too far back to contest the sprint but also desperate to at least get in the top ten, so I opened my sprint and pushed and pushed and pushed until eventually I managed to cross the line.  At that point I more or less collapsed across my top tube.

    7th.  3 points.  I said on Strava that it was a brutal way to earn 3 points.  For the last 5 minutes my average hear rate was 168 – significantly beyond what I’d aim for in a 10 mile TT, and I set a new max HR at the finish – 179. I averaged nearly 340 watts for that period with a few peaks of more than 1,000, and with an average of around 800 for the last 30 seconds.

    Brutal.  3 points.

     

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  • Why we never forget how to ride a bike. November 20, 2018GrumpyGrimpeur1846
    screenshot-42.jpg

    This article popped up in my RSS feeds the other day. I’ve not read the full paper yet, but the the snippet seems like it’d be really interesting if you’re into psychology/neurology at all.

    Article here [via Boing Boing]

    And in case you don’t want to click through, here’s the header photo which I found rather endearing:

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  • My review of The Pursuit on PEZ November 18, 2018chuckp1828

     

     

    If you haven’t seen this documentary by James Poole, you should. Cheers!

     

     

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  • Roubaix 2019 – Back to the cobbles November 16, 2018ChrisO1826

    Was it 2013 I did the Keepers Tour – just the weekend to ride the cobbles to Roubaix and watch RVV the next day?

    Anyway, I’ve signed up to go back next year. Doing the 145km version, Roubaix to Roubaix. That’s of course if we’re still able to get to Europe in April 2019… might have to be Australian again for a few days.

    A guy I’ve been riding with here is moving back to Lille in France and was keen on a few of us coming over so I’ve taken up the invite. It’s the day before the pro race so we’ll watch that the next day.

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