Its Saturday morning… In the house of a semi-PRO cyclist… Alone, their partner waits, with only their own thoughts to occupy their mind:
“This is so shit… The alarm going at 5.30am, then does he get out the door quietly? As if, does it really have to be such a production getting all that shit on? And why are they all talking to each other on that fuuuuuuucking whatsapp group when they’re all about to meet up any way?
I swear those are new wheels too… I know he thinks that I don’t know the difference between Mavic and Enve wheels, but he doesn’t get the difference between me pretending to not give a fuck so I don’t have to talk about it and not knowing he’s laundered cash from the kids schooling account to get some carbon wheels…”
“Home by 10 eh… Yeah right, lets look on Instagram. OMFG! He’s posted a pic of him with those idiots at coffee, that cunt! I know he thinks I don’t say ‘cunt’, but I can think it. Fuck I hate it when he takes a selfie, I’m going to break him of that behaviour! Right after the rest of Saturday is spent in silence.
Look at these fuckheads, they think they’re PRO… I bet they’ve spent an hour beating off to the Giro in between trying their lame pick up lines on that waitress with the slutty tats. Time to give the kids some chocolate just before he gets back… Actually, he will faff around for 45 minutes wanking off to Strava so maybe I should hold off…”
Now, before you get Cyclingtips reader comments like rage about sexism etc (fuck you’re on the wrong site if any such thought has entered into your mind), whilst I have cast a female in the above role, don’t get me wrong, this can SO apply in reverse as well… So take it as generic:
Now, of course, when we do finally get home from our ride, road or dirt, the priority is to have some sort of recovery product with unsubstantiated benefits, upload to Strava (this MUST occur prior to any showering or discussions) and then spend 15 to 20 minutes Instgramming and then Whatsapping the fuck out of what we’ve just ridden. We’re an hour late you say? Like FUCK we are… We gave you the ‘ride time’ estimation, its not OUR problem you can’t then calculate ‘elapsed time’ and include the faffing that is integral to the ride.
Its then important that we strip down to our knicks, walk around the house saying “Oh yeah… So good” a lot and for the MTB crew, commence a half cleaning job on the bike, or generally fuck about with our camelbak bladder. Its possible we may then indicate that we want a coke (so PRO) and perhaps a massage too? I mean, what was your TSS from sitting around the house all morning anyway? Lucky you have the opportunity to work on such a semi PRO chassis FFS.
Of course, we then want to go out and smash a brunch to refuel, before suddenly becoming too tired to do anything other than lie around attempting a PRO nap, even though we’re NOT PRO. We’ll then commence the process to dodge out of the social engagement hooked up for that evening. Don’t they understand we just want to stay at home, watch the Giro and rest up so we can head out and smash it on Sunday? Fucks sake… if we’re made to go out, cue yawning, general avoidance of any discussions not relating to cycling and then getting written off like a fuckbag on a small volume of alcohol.
So it begs the question doesn’t it?
Who the fuck would want to marry/shag/date/be in a defacto relationship with a cyclist?
But, love us they do… In droves and with more passion and fever than an unemployed Basque fan who has nothing to do but paint all over the roads and camp out to lose their shit when the peloton arrives.
But why? And how? How do you love someone who thinks its more important to upload to Strava than it is to say hello to the children? Or who spends $300 on new socks as the current ones don’t match the new helmet? Or who creates highly advanced and complex money laundering systems in order to purchase new kit and equipment? Or who says they’ll be gone for 2 hours on a ride when they ultimately mean 4 to 5? Or who can turn a “quick bike shop visit” into an epic all day experience?
Buckle up, as here’s just the Dirty tip of so many reasons to love us, cherish us and ultimately, forgive us:
1. We’re awesome at shopping
Like, really good – Its doesn’t matter if its on-line, in-store, brand new, second hand, some sort of complex contra/swap deal which may or may not make sense, large portions of our brains and time is spent thinking about cycling related acquisitions. And fuck does it make us happy…
Ok, so forget the complex money laundering schemes we engineer (AKA – Web of LIES) and the fact that we may skim off the kids school account, the ultimate benefit for partners is that we understand the intricacies of shopping and are highly trained on-line shopping ninja’s able to sniff out bargains quicker than a ferret can find chutney.
Ok, so this may apply more to the roadies than the Dirt Merchants, but fuck the MTB crew sure know how to hunt out a bargain or barter like fuck to get you what you need. So, if you’re in the market to hook up with a cyclist (begs the question who wouldn’t be) and you have Louis Vuitton taste, then perhaps hook up with a lycra wearing unit, but if you are addicted to eBay/Trade me, then head to the trail head carpark for your stalking.
Disclaimer – This skill-set possibly doesn’t carry over into malls, at all… Unless its a mall filled with bike shops, so perhaps keep expectations realistic.
2. We’re so global right now
First of all, we know more about today’s Giro stage than we do about the route to that place you refer to as the ‘Supermarket’, which instantly makes us significantly more learned and sophisticated. Yes, we know all about Europe (roadies) and Canada (Dirt Merchants) which lets face it, is really the only places anyone wants to go these days given the rest is cunted or blowing each other away.
Given we’re basically European without the drawbacks like smoking or invading each other, it also makes us somewhat sophisticated, as long as you’re talking about coffee or artisanal shaving cream. Whilst we may be too busy for DIY, we can drop everything to travel to an exotic location, assuming said location indicates on Strava that there is plenty of trail or Cat 1 climbs for us to indulge in. Once there, we’ll get busy improving the scenery:
If you have a love of coffee and salads, then the roadies will charm you and spend the whole time enlightening you on the nuances of how to roast, grind and froth your way to the perfect coffee, hold the salad dressing though, there are Watts per Kg to think about here for fucks sake.
If you want to get spiritual about the sun setting behind those hills, the way a trail snakes down a ridgeline or have rough sex, then the Dirt Merchants have you covered as well… Aside from the guy with the “Railing ruts and Nailing sluts” singlet, chances are he’s just spent the whole summer in Whistler, doing exactly those two things in between eating one meal per day and sleeping on a mates floor to afford a lift pass. Perhaps slightly less global, but at least they don’t know what a PowerPoint deck is.
3. We’re so good at the Internet
Let’s face it – Cyclists have taken to the internet faster than Skynet took to wiping the human race off the face of the planet (just because it hasn’t happened yet, doesn’t mean it won’t). Forget the shopping, we spend a disproportionate amount of time as Net rangers searching for new product, comparing stats, stalking PRO cyclists, rubbing our private parts while looking at our Strava stats, racing each other virtually or frothing over POV
gang bangs trail videos before we ride that trail.
Add to this that our bikes are going electronic, our suspension is more complex than the morning after a drunk threesome with your best girlfriend (to be fair, it was your idea) and our rides no longer exist unless they’re GPS tracked and uploaded, all means that our general tech savvy is higher than shall we say, someone playing Rugby? Not calling them #dumbcunts of course, just reflecting on the fact that in between Go Proing and Instagramming the fuck out of everything, we have developed so many sexy skills to help you navigate the modern world. Apparently tinder was invented by a cyclist after all.
Translation – When you finally muster up the confidence and trust to make a sex tape, we’ll nail it.
4. Fit as fuck
Ok, so forget the fuck out of asking us to walk up stairs, run for a bus or go for that romantic walk along the beach, but dumb walking shit aside, we are pretty fit as a group. Cutting a complex and long story short, this means one thing: We have above average sex appeal. Just ask rMac, she knows:
So all the Johnny come lately golf crew may undo this notion a little bit, but generally as a group we have a chassis set up that makes Romeo wish they had carbon bikes back in the day. Yes, there’s a slight issue with tan lines mind you, but where there’s a will…
5. We shun traditional evils
After a 5 hour ride most of us are too tired for a lap dance…. Yes, I know it involves just sitting there while straining against the ‘no touch rule’, which we ultimately adhere to as there is no way we can take on club security with our T Rex arms. Nor will you have seen a Rugby League style headline that says “Cyclists gang bang a fan post race“, we’re too tired, numb and again our arms aren’t big enough for that action.
Sure, these are limited examples, but my point is, as we start to get obsessed about that climb or trail, the OCD cyclist subconsciously starts to either move away from evils that traditionally cause friction in a relationship:
- Alcohol – 2 craft beers and we are dribbling… Maybe 2 or 3 major binge drinking sessions a year, but it only takes a few reamings on the Saturday ride before we start to curtail
- Drugs – Er… Ok, so whilst there is some tenuous linkage between performance enhancing drugs and cycling apparently, and occasionally Mountain Bikers partake in the odd spliff, you won’t see us mainlining the hard shit. Virtuous? Well, its a cost thing – We’d rather spend the money on a new pair of tires
- Gambling – Why the fuck would we slot all our cash into a casino when we already have a form of gambling available at our bike shop, its called: SRAM. Spend about the same and take your chances.
*Editorial note – None of these apply to Monsieur Armstrong, who as an example has participated in drink driving, ran a drug ring that made Pablo Escobar look like a dairy owner and drilled pretty much all of Matthew McConaughey’s ex-Girlfriends. A possible candidate for a ‘do not date him’ warning.
6. We don’t work at FIFA
Really just a quick excuse to stick the boot in, pun intended, to football – Welcome to scandal city cunts, now suck it up as we get to put our cycling shoes up and watch another sport taking a roasting for a change! Takes a lot of effort to make the UCI seem semi proficient and have ethics, so well done FIFA for making us look good.
I could go on and on as I attempt to kill the dead space in the DN world between running out of DM2 video footage and the start of EuroEnduro, but I think the ultimately reason to love a cyclist is passion. Yes, we’re a passionate bunch, OCD’s aside, we have a burning fire for what we do and that can be infectious (in the non-itching way).
I’m not talking about being excited following a team or a sport, this isn’t a spectator thing. I’m talking about our fever for living our sport, building trails, setting a PR on a climb, cleaning a rad Downhill or pushing ourselves on our favourite loop.
If you’re lucky, some of this insane love we have for cycling and our bikes will spill over into your world and, assuming you can work out the difference between ‘ride time’ and ‘elapsed time’, will make it all the more richer. Epic motivation right – Go forth and love a cyclist!