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Shut up legs!

Evans, Cadel: n. trans. (see also Cuddles). Australian cyclist, 2009 World Champion.

via images.theage.com.au

Evans is very hard to pin down. He is authentically talented and hard, and gives nothing less than his absolute best; really, it’s hard to ask for more in a rider. If the Leif Hostes and Andy Schlecks of this world rode with that attitude, they would have won even more so far in their careers.

Off the bike, Evans can be infuriating to watch, as well. He is cringeworthy in an interview – he simply doesn’t have that glib and oily tongue that the media requires to fill its soundbites. Instead he complains when he feels wronged, and praises in an oblique way that is all too often mischaracterised by the tabloid media (especially the Belgian media).

Tactically, I usually find him inept. In particular, if Evans has missed a key move he often goes right to the front, TTs his way back to the break, and tows along his competition (who then try to drop him as soon as they get to bridging distance). He can’t seem to garner enough support to make others work with him. When he attacks (with few, glorious exceptions) it’s often from first wheel.

So why, why why is one one of my favourite riders?

1. Grinta. Simply, he never quits; he never gives up; he will never die wondering. The Geelong Worlds summed it up. Three times I thought he had dropped anchor, three times he summoned a reserve of strength that came from somewhere deep inside – an insatiable force of will that almost carried him to greatness. It’s what won him every single win I’ve seen him take – and it’s why the shot of him at Montalcino is simply the perfect expression of Evans on a bike. I have never seen a rider able to suffer the way Evans does.

2. He suffers from ancient Greek levels of luck, and when he collapses, he collapses utterly. It was ever thus. If my memory serves me right: the 2000 olympics he suffered from a mechanical and finished 7th; in 2002 Giro, his first grand tour, he bonked on the final mountain stage wearing the maglia rosa to collapse to 17th. The several broken collarbones, the untimely and inexplicable wheel change, the crashes in the 2008 and 2010 Tours – Vandevelde might claim greater misfortune, but few big GC riders of the last ten years have been so unlucky. Fewer still could be seen inconsolably weeping into a teammate’s arms after losing the maillot jaune. That moment sums Evans up for me – both his incredible strength and his incredible fragility.

3. Lastly – he seems to be a genuinely sensitive and intelligent man, who is aware of his privileged position in the world and is keen to help those who are less fortunate than he is. He loves his wife dearly – it’s touching to see. I admire the fact that rather than dreaming up a contrived victory salute at Mendrisio, he kissed his wedding ring so fiercely we all thought he was sucking his fingers. Cadel’s extraordinary passion and our inability to comprehend it, in one exquisite moment.

—Runitout Oct 4, 2010 6:12 PM EST

1. Term used by radio shock jocks to describe species of human upon whom they commend violence be undertaken: ‘if those Lycra louts ride two to a lane, is it any wonder that honest, god fearing citizens open their car doors on them and knock them down? They are a menace and should be run off the road.’

2. Term used to describe any cyclist by the owner of a car stuck in traffic.

In cycling, as in all facets of life, there are imponderables, on which strong opinions are held, but no consensus holds.
- Coppi or Bartali?
- Did he wait?
- Was Fignon’s hair the difference?
- Speaking of hair, Laurent Brochard.

The first and most prickly of these questions, of course, is ‘wax or shave?’. Opinion is divided on the subject.

OK, here’s an attempt …

Pain, n.: the universal currency of competitive cycling. Many denominations exist: sprinting legs, climbing legs, time trialling legs, buring lungs, road rash, broken collar bone, saddle sores, etc. The only legal tender for purchase of cycling’s joys.

The Box.

n., see also The Hurt Box, the Pain Cave, The Rivet, Chewing the Stem.

A private and lonely place. Its key characteristics: burning thighs, frantic lungs, snot, and the familiar, nauseous embrace of lactic acid. Usually immediately preceded by heavy breathing, failure to maintain proper ankling technique, and repeated standing efforts, which are signals for surrounding riders to put you in the Box. Once firmly inside the Box, it is a rule of competitive racing that someone will up the pace by 2kmh to ensure one’s dislodgement from the group. Usually followed by solitude, humiliation, headwinds and rain.

There are various methods to avoid demonstrating one’s candidacy for the Box. Wearing reflective glasses is a favourite (see also, Menchov D.); another is a serene if slightly manic grin (See also Basso, I.); and another still, the adoption of reverse psychology – frantically weaving about on the pedals, in an absurd caricature of being in the Box, while still at heart-rate 120 (see Evans, C.).

Known cures: Bribes; sticky bidons; rear derailleur adjustment; Gu.

Related topics: Snapping the elastic; Suitcase of Courage; finding a rhythm; minimising losses; Broom Wagon.

This topic likely can be expanded into several voumes by the time the edition comes out.