Good for you but not the case for everyone.
How many racing cyclists drive with their bikes in their cars to ride/race starts?
In 2006 I rode a 25 on the West of Oxford course which was won by Nik Gardiner who had ridden out from his home near Bristol. Having crushed the opposition with a short 55, he got back on his bike and rode home – a round trip, including the 25 of something over 130 miles. However, Nik was preparing for the 24 hour Championship which he duly won (504 miles that year) and I’m afraid we’re not all capable of mile eating on that scale.
About 25 years ago, one of my club mates, quite a talented rider, attempted his first 100 on another of the Oxford courses. To his credit he has always tried to avoid car travel whenever possible and on this occasion he had ridden out from London on the Saturday and camped near the start. I don’t remember his time, but considering his ability it was definitely sub-optimal. I asked him how it had gone and he said: “I might well have gone faster, but around 75 miles, when I was starting to feel the distance, I just couldn’t get it out of my mind that after the finish I’d got to take down that bloody tent, pack it onto the bike and then ride home”.
He’s still competing, but he often drives out to events nowadays.
Bike racing can be used as an example of the motor car creating a need for its own use. Long ago when there were few cars, we could start a Bath Road time trial just West of Hounslow – now we have to travel another 50 miles because of the spread of traffic lights.
In our twenty first century lives there are bound to be times when a car is the most convenient way to travel, and bike races often come into this category. My point about the competitive cyclist’s bike use is that in order to have sufficient fitness for it to be worth even arriving at the start of a race they have generally done a big mileage. I know there are exceptions, but they are unusual.
I have an article, written for the still born lfgss coffee table book, entitled “The 300,000 Mile Commute”. This is an account of Martyn Roach’s rides to work, and while the title is self explanatory, some of the younger people here are probably unaware of Martyn’s racing career, so I’ll give a very brief summary. He first came to national level notice at the age of 21 in 1968 by winning the BBAR at a record average speed (the first at over 25 mph). Although often thought of as a time triallist, he was a successful roadman, winning international events and eventually turning down a pro contract with a continental team on the grounds that he did not want to take part in their ‘medical programme’; there is a good account of his career in Peter Whitfield’s excellent book ‘Twelve Champions’. I mention Martyn here because he is an excellent example of the interaction between racing and utility riding, although he probably needed a bigger mileage than the average rider to achieve racing fitness. He would lead excellent early season training rides, generally spending most of the day at the front and never pausing to look at a map even on the most obscure back lanes. These rides were not for the faint hearted, but Martyn liked to hide how far he was really going, only giving his companions information on what he called ‘a need to know basis’ which would generally be something like ‘we’re turning left in a hundred yards’. He reckons that the commuting mileage is a little under half his lifetime’s total.
Finally two photographs (if I can load them, that is). These were taken on the first of my ‘Hard Day’ rides, and I reproduce them here because they show good close formation riding – a technique which economises on effort and is best perfected in a road race bunch or a team time trial. We did about 110 miles, which is more tiring on a frosty day than in midsummer, so labour saving methods were valuable. Perhaps more importantly we were motivated by the desire to race later in the season – ‘every mile pays a dividend’.
So to repeat myself: more riding encourages more racing, more racing encourages more riding.
In 2006 I rode a 25 on the West of Oxford course which was won by Nik Gardiner who had ridden out from his home near Bristol. Having crushed the opposition with a short 55, he got back on his bike and rode home – a round trip, including the 25 of something over 130 miles. However, Nik was preparing for the 24 hour Championship which he duly won (504 miles that year) and I’m afraid we’re not all capable of mile eating on that scale.
About 25 years ago, one of my club mates, quite a talented rider, attempted his first 100 on another of the Oxford courses. To his credit he has always tried to avoid car travel whenever possible and on this occasion he had ridden out from London on the Saturday and camped near the start. I don’t remember his time, but considering his ability it was definitely sub-optimal. I asked him how it had gone and he said: “I might well have gone faster, but around 75 miles, when I was starting to feel the distance, I just couldn’t get it out of my mind that after the finish I’d got to take down that bloody tent, pack it onto the bike and then ride home”.
He’s still competing, but he often drives out to events nowadays.
Bike racing can be used as an example of the motor car creating a need for its own use. Long ago when there were few cars, we could start a Bath Road time trial just West of Hounslow – now we have to travel another 50 miles because of the spread of traffic lights.
In our twenty first century lives there are bound to be times when a car is the most convenient way to travel, and bike races often come into this category. My point about the competitive cyclist’s bike use is that in order to have sufficient fitness for it to be worth even arriving at the start of a race they have generally done a big mileage. I know there are exceptions, but they are unusual.
I have an article, written for the still born lfgss coffee table book, entitled “The 300,000 Mile Commute”. This is an account of Martyn Roach’s rides to work, and while the title is self explanatory, some of the younger people here are probably unaware of Martyn’s racing career, so I’ll give a very brief summary. He first came to national level notice at the age of 21 in 1968 by winning the BBAR at a record average speed (the first at over 25 mph). Although often thought of as a time triallist, he was a successful roadman, winning international events and eventually turning down a pro contract with a continental team on the grounds that he did not want to take part in their ‘medical programme’; there is a good account of his career in Peter Whitfield’s excellent book ‘Twelve Champions’. I mention Martyn here because he is an excellent example of the interaction between racing and utility riding, although he probably needed a bigger mileage than the average rider to achieve racing fitness. He would lead excellent early season training rides, generally spending most of the day at the front and never pausing to look at a map even on the most obscure back lanes. These rides were not for the faint hearted, but Martyn liked to hide how far he was really going, only giving his companions information on what he called ‘a need to know basis’ which would generally be something like ‘we’re turning left in a hundred yards’. He reckons that the commuting mileage is a little under half his lifetime’s total.
Finally two photographs (if I can load them, that is). These were taken on the first of my ‘Hard Day’ rides, and I reproduce them here because they show good close formation riding – a technique which economises on effort and is best perfected in a road race bunch or a team time trial. We did about 110 miles, which is more tiring on a frosty day than in midsummer, so labour saving methods were valuable. Perhaps more importantly we were motivated by the desire to race later in the season – ‘every mile pays a dividend’.
So to repeat myself: more riding encourages more racing, more racing encourages more riding.
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