Sumer is icumen in, lhude sing cuccu

The early season races herald the advent of the season proper. They foretell of warm weather and fields of sunflowers, tanlines and treacly Tarmac. Occasionally, they speak of winter and the long grippe of weather that refuses to break.

It makes for a compelling spectacle and reawakens the myths of cycling. It also causes paroxysms of anger amongst the professional peloton, furious that the circumspect and fickle weather cannot be controlled unlike everything else in cycling these days.

Make the most of such ‘epic’ and ‘gruelling’ feats while you can. If Spartacus has his way, the extreme weather protocol might do away with such derring do.

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