Today was a rest day, of sorts. I rode directly to work and then back. If I’m absolutely honest, I have been daydreaming about yesterday all day. It’s not quite a Belgian Classic or the rainbow bands, but winning on Burrington has made my year.
I still subscribe to Cycling Weekly. There are many racing cyclists who have cancelled their subscriptions due to the general absence of anything that might be deemed relevant to the actual racing of an actual racing bicycle. I have more than a few back issues which i’ve been using for research and there is a staggering difference in the level of reporting then and now. It’s an old argument and I’m not about to refresh it. The closest I came to cancelling was last year when they hid the top ten of the BBAR competition somewhere in the results page. This was after Jeff Jones had set a staggering new comp record for the 12 hour. They used up the space instead with a 3 page spread on the ‘Cycling Weekly Classic Sportive’, a 60 mile bun run round some shitty lanes near CW towers in Croydon. The star interviewee, questioned after his epic battle with the southern wilds, was editor Robert Garbutt. It couldn’t have been more onanistic if the sportiviste hacks had lined up a group circle jerk and spuffed en masse over their own bylines.
Lately they have drifted back across to the world of lightweight racing cycles due to the staggering success of Sir Bradley of Wiggins. There may even be a dawning recognition that the next wave of cycling talent is more likely to be found at the counter of Krispy Kreme’s feeder-house than it is in a sportive.*
So obviously it has been a further highlight to find my name on the Cycling Weekly website this week. They have redeemed themselves and I can now forgive their bi-monthly sportive pull-out full bongo open-oyster lynskeytitanium technicolour guide. With any luck I might even be in print come Thursday. In amongst the writerly despair I secretly long to find my name in bold print at the front of the Comic; such is the dualistic nature of modern existence. It’s happened once before, about two years ago. I still dine out on the memory.
*sportivistes: there is room for your not-a-race-races within the broad church of cycling and the press. FACT. there also happens to be room for other disciplines of cycling beyond the ever-growing hydra and utter cash cow that is next year’s sportive calendar.