Battleground.
Sitting there, watching the 11th stage of the Giro d'Italia, 69km to go, a seemingly innocuous stage heading towards a finish for the sprinters. And then, click, in the time it takes a camera shutter to fire, the race is turned on its head. In the blink of an eye, a crash occurs on a simple (but wet) corner. In a lycra-clad demonstration of the butterfly effect, one man's misfortune destroys another man's race. Laying there on the ground, Tao (Geoghegan Hart) is not moving, he is conscious, but he knows something is wrong. He knows his race is over. Months of sacrifice and hard work, in potentially the best form of his career, over, just like that. A few riders check he is OK (he is breathing) and then ride on. This is bike racing.
For those fans who follow bicycle racing, this is just another day. We are almost desensitized to the regular occurrence of crashes in the peloton. I was most certainly shocked by this latest loss to the race; however quickly moved on. However, after listening to one of the daily cycling podcasts discussing the previous day’s stage, I was made to think. Ridden in atrocious conditions with heavy rain, cold temperatures and howling wind, stage 10 was a day many riders said was one of, if not the toughest, they have had on a bike. Apart from the winners, each rider battled their way over the finish line to no applause or fanfare. A day that we, as enthusiasts, would most certainly have quit on the first climb, let alone suffering on for a 196km day of misery.
As amateurs riders, we paste our achievements of the weekend's 100km ride all over our social media as if we have crossed the precipice of greatness to enter the pantheon of cycling’s elite.
Yes, I get that this is about the time that the internet trolls (and several people on my WhatsApp cycling groups) will whip out their inflatable soap boxes to stand and wax lyrical about how "these are professional cyclists; this is their job" blah blah blah.
Let's just give them a second to finish their whinging….all done? OK, back to it.
Those obvious comments aside, it is still very easy to dismiss the regularity at which these athletes break themselves. Only to dust themselves off, put their broken bones in a cast and be back on a trainer within a week. I saw this bravery for myself while following the Spring Classics in Belgium. Men and women crossing the finish line bleeding and broken, only to cover wounds up with a cute white bandage and some sexy fishnet gauze and go at it again the next day.
Now I have had my fair share of crashes, the last of which included a decent amount of skin loss and a week off the bike due in part to my bike being smashed up. Waking up in the morning after a terrible night's sleep, stuck to my sheets, I remember thinking how awful it would be to now jump on your bike and ride another 200km in a fast-paced peloton.
Wheeep Wheeep, Wheeep…. ahh, here come those soap boxes again. I know, I know, it's their job!
I am writing this purely as an exercise in observation and perspective. In this fast-paced world, it can be easy to forget how much these incredible athletes put themselves through to do what they love. It is a real-life demonstration of what it means to suffer for your passion. A real-life demonstration of the power of determination and consistency.
To be clear, this is undoubtedly the view of a romantic who thrives on the pageantry and drama of bicycle racing. But you already knew this. It is why you are here, right? You are just a hopeless cycling romantic like me! Don't worry; I won't tell anyone on the WhatsApp group.