Great expectations

The sport of road cycling is a paradoxical motherf*cker.

Each day, at races all over Europe and the United States, hundreds line up on the start. Dozens have the form, the support and the motivation to win the race.

Every rider may have a story about overcoming adversity, conquering demons or surviving tragedy, illness, injury or psychological trauma to be there on the line.

Then they all set off:  there’s some action, a mechanic sleeps in the back of a team car, there’s a bit of swearing in the convoy, a few crashes and finally one guy/gal crosses the line in a dramatic flourish.
Champagne is sprayed, cheeks are kissed, there’s some media airtime & the victor has the opportunity to thank those who helped get them to the top step of the podium (or s/he hasn’t been given the brief on ‘public gratitude’ yet and they talk endlessly about how amazing they are).

As little as a decade ago, this might be all we would see of bike racing. I know friends from the southern hemisphere who waited months for magazines reporting on the Tour de France in the 1970s and ’80s.
Now, thanks to the warp-speed capabilities of social media sites and webpage race reports, we have access to every minute detail of a race, including all sorts of wonderful back stories.

Because, as we all well know, for every Cav, Vos, Teutenberg and Greipel who increases their net worth with a stage win, there are thousands of us who don’t.

We may never win a race, never be in an early race-defining break, not be blessed with the capacity to be the last lead out for the legend, and certainly (as is the case for many women’s races) NEVER have our efforts broadcast on TV.

So as far as the general public is concerned, our ‘talent’ goes unrecognised and our roles unrewarded. Sure, there’s a whole category of riders for whom the description ‘specialist domestique’ really does hold true:  men and women like Hayman, Hincapie, van Dijk, Duester, Voigt, O’Grady, and Dean.

They can make a living and directly contribute to extraordinary results – those that would truly be impossible without their skill, strength & commitment.

Which brings me to my point:  in a sport like cycling, where results are what we strive for, how can we measure our value, if we have none (no results I mean, we all have value, just ask your parents).

In a small pond like Australia, there are plenty of big fish. We start out as the best in our town, our state and maybe win a National title.

Then we go to Europe or the U.S., and only the impressively tenacious barracudas continue to get world-class results. A little bit of luck and a good team environment never goes astray…

I read a great blog by the Kiwi journeyman Julian Dean that brought this very subject to mind. A rider who has ridden all three Grand Tours in a year, he’s also had the mental and physical fortitude to notch up the greatest number of race days of any ProTour rider in 2010.

Aside from an impressive CV, his 15 years as a pro have allowed him an insight into the very pertinent difference between results and performance.

When we train consistently, do everything right to prepare ourselves for an event and arrive at the start line in great form, then that is something to be proud of.

If we give ourselves to the event with focus, aggression, tenacity and self-belief, then we can be proud of our performance.

But another rider may get the result you wanted.

She may put a whole minute into you over a 28km TT (as was the case for me last week at the AUS Championships); he may overtake you inches before the finish line of the World RR Championships with astonishing speed; or out-climb your best ever time up the final ascent to seal the win.

Results are what we strive for, what remain etched in the history books, and what inevitably bring money, fame, greater contracts and better-looking podium girls.

Cruel then, that results are the things we have the least control over.

Those that have the ability to differentiate their ‘failure to achieve victory’ with the disappointment of their performance not yielding a result will have succeeded.

(As an aside – if it’s results you want, always race against those of inferior ability and you’ll win every time. I’m sure the Desiderata posted on the back of your Grandparents’ bathroom door encourages you to do otherwise. A trophy wall does not a champion make!)

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