Awake, a dream in the distance, a scream. Advanced, entranced, taking only a chance. In and out my mind goes. In and out it goes to show me it’s cruel.
Cycling’s a cruel sport, both on and off a bike. The off season is here, it’s not quite snowing in the Pennine Hills, I’m bored awaiting the next round of the Track World Cup. Sorry, I’ve not got much patience for Boonen and friends. That’s a whole other story. I get a lot of stick for calling this page Boners In The Peloton, I’m not sure how many of the visitors are cycling fans, and the people at work think I just like looking at cock. I know I don’t have to explain my motives but I’ve been thinking of writing this for a while. Cycling’s far too romantic to be reduced to what it’s become in the mind of the main stream.
Ronde van Vlaanderen 2010; Cancellara has broken Boonen on that right hander going up the Muur. I’m sitting at home dreaming of being there, taking in the spectacle, my favourite race. 2010 is probably my favourite edition too. I’m too young to remember anything before the mid 1990’s. It struck me last week just how much I liked it last week when I re-watched it. Cancellara broke Boonen going round that bend, Boonen was fighting like crazy to stay on the wheel. Fabian was pulling out metre after metre. If you can take your eyes off the riders for a minute and look at the crowds lining the roads, you notice this. Firstly, they’re about fifteen deep and secondly, they’re completely mad on watching the race. They scream in equal measure for Cancellara and the home favourite Tom Boonen. The volunteers are shouting along with the fans, forgetting they’re there for crowd control. I even noticed, when Fabian had got a lead of about 500 metres, a Dutch Policeman giving it some fist action as Spartacus rode past.
People say cycling’s not a sport, it’s not, if you take things like that into account. It’s a way of life, an obsession. I am only on the outside looking in. I can sort of understand Riccardo Ricco’s motivation to take drugs when I look at cycling as an obsession. He wanted to be in a cycling team so much he was prepared to give himself a blood transfusion. That’s hard core, I still think Ricco is a tool, but credit where it’s due and all that.
It’s 100 years since the start of World War One and I read that Gent-Wevelgem is going to have a route in honour of it. When I watch the races in Belgium and Northern France I can’t help thinking of how war has shaped cycling. From Fausto Coppi to Paul Deman humility and arrogance goes hand in hand. Such is the oxymora of cycling. During the years of the Second World war, when some Classics were run, the prizes included sacks of potatoes and razor blades. My heart breaks to think of a man riding over two hundred kilometres to be pleased to win a box of razors, a commodity we pay a few pence for in the supermarket today.
My heart breaks a little whenever I read about the latest doping allegations, or team break-ups. HTC almost made me stop all together, Rolf Aldag’s confession made me cry and Frank Vandenbroucke’s sad eyes haunt me to this day. Still my obsession with racing, be it on the Track, Cobbles, or up mountains justifies the sadness. Cycling is about heartbreak and romance. The romance of winning, the heartbreak at coming second or being caught on the line. I only ride my bike in the summertime, my bike has a basket on the front and a bell on the handlebars. I don’t really know when I’m supposed to change gear. I love watching races. I simply wish some people knew just how much, maybe then they wouldn’t make so much fun out of me.
It appears that Cav’s new book “At Speed” has large chunks dedicated to his relationship with our beautiful man. He’s keen to point out this was a non-physical relationship, but moderator number one knows had made up the truth. The book itself is on my Christmas List, I still can’t forgive Cav for abandoning Bernie at Sky although Clare has allowed her ‘review’ for the first few chapters.
"Seems Cav initially roomed with Mark Renshaw until he was thrown out when he started rooming with Bernie.
On discussing the Tourmalet stage (complete with mention of Jens crash & him helping Cav, Bernie & Bert cause the Grupetto had dropped them). He mentions that he was so tired & ill thatBernie had to haul him into the lift & to the room & then Cav undressed & got in the shower leaving the door open. 10 minutes later Bernie came to check he was ok as the water hadn’t started running. He finds Cav sitting cross legged, fast asleep in the bottom of the shower. Bernie apparently bursts out laughing & gets his phone out to take incriminating pictures!! Bernie please be a nice person & share these!
(Mod 1- this will have to do…)
Having just started the next chapter Bernie & Cav fight like an old married couple (One of which that gets a mention is in the above mentioned stage) & throw strops with each other. A fight at the start of the Vuelta that year ended with Bernie storming off, Cav finishing the TTT recon, & then going back to their room where the fight ended pretty much as soon as he got in the room with them calling each other a dickhead & they became best mates again. That is all.
Cav goes on to calls Bernie his substitute spouse!!
Talking about the Commonwealth Games in 2010; Cav says Dave Millar played wife, soulmate, & partner in crime in Bernie’s absence!
Oh God more gems - this is like some total slashy awesome book! Chapter Four starts - As couples do, Bernie & I had booked to go on holiday together! It also mentions their vacation bachelor pad & Bernie’s many grooming products! It was apparently on this trip he met Peta.”
Apparently it’s all down hill from there says Clare… “Sky totally sucked nearly all the love out of their relationship!” That will be David Brailsford and his Joy Hoover again. Jealous of Beautiful Bernie and his sexual stubble.