“for those of us of a certain age, there is the opportunity to luxuriate in what might have been compared to what, sadly, certainly is. as a relative latecomer to the joys of road riding, there was never any danger of my having been recruited to the professional cause, at the time blissfully unaware there was any cause to be recruited to in the first place. not for me the lengthy days and nights of inveterate training, acquiring skills and fitness that would have me see off my peers in no uncertain fashion come the weekend.
yet, professional cycle racing is still one of the few sports where estrangement from those deserving of hero worship is considerably less than that of formula one motor racing, for example. that in itself, however, is still barely sufficient for the wannabe or distinctly ‘has been’ pelotonese to identify with the travails of the modern-day cycling pro. yes, we can all jest about going back to the team car during the sunday ride, or make merry about the likelihood of mavic lending a yellow skoda for neutral support on the way to debbie’s café, but what’s that really like?”
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