Cycling books

No surprises to the many who've already said this, but 'The Rider' really is excellent.

I wish I was reading it with a pen to highlight bits like this (which read worse out of context, despite the entire thing having an aphoristic quality):

But in the long, tough road races, when there are mountains to fight instead of a whirlwind of
riders, Kleber shines. Because he never attacks, and because there's always someone who can
stick with him and beat him in the sprint, he's never won a race. He has no panache, no brio, no
courage.
He lives to ride.

And this bit, which comes almost immediately after:

As I pass him, I look over. Earnest. All the pious earnestness of the vanquished sportsman. He
doesn't stand a chance, but he's making the best of it!
And the crowd falls for it every time! How often have I seen people clapping and cheering for a rider who, having been lapped six times, pushes on bravely? It's an insulting brand of applause - for where does a winning rider get the right to revel in applause if the crowd isn't obliged to hiss at him when he fails?