So we’re getting a bit bored of training posts now and seeing as the season is about to kick off this Sunday I thought I’d do a light-hearted post about being an amateur soigneur and chief assistant coach (aka girlfriend that really knows sweet nothing about cycling) so here it goes!
He arrives home, covered in a slick layer of saliva, sweat and dirt, collapsing onto the nearest chair picking up his garmin and laptop.
“Hey!” “How was your ride?” I inquire.
No response.
The stravasphere has him now…
Strava: I was told that to put all your rides up on here and invest thought into ride names, kudo’s and strava fwends was somewhat chopper. Yet “if it ain’t on strava, it didn’t happen” and from what I hear, holding a KOM is pretty big dog.
Here are some other terms that I’ve learnt:
Wheelsucker: someone with their nose nestled in between another cyclists butt cheeks and is essentially being pulled along behind, unwilling to work.
Chopper: you can’t ride a bike, you don’t even look good on the bike. You really should take up running, or swimming…or both.
Half wheeling: remember a person in school that always had to come first? This is them.
Bonking: running out of both physical and mental energy stores to the point of grimacing with severe head bobbing.
Paniagua: Riding on just bread (pan) and water (agua)… without the input of any Italian doctors.
*Insert only cycling joke I know*
You’re having coffee (preferably a double espresso) in a café:
“How does a cyclist take his sugar?”
Wait for no one to answer. Then proceed to pick up a tube packet of sugar, hold it between 2 fingers and flick the top.
(As one would do getting the air bubbles out of a syringe…)
Anyway, where was I…
n + 1: The law of “you can never have enough bikes” coupled with the constant yearning for a better bike than currently owned.
Being Euro: is being the epitome of style, sexy and class on a bike.
Important things to note (which I may have learnt the hard way!):
- When asked who your favourite cyclist is, Marcel Kittel is not the correct answer.
- When asked if you want to watch the tour highlights. You say: “Again? Yes! Maybe not Carlton Kirby this time though.”
- When asked if you think he looks lean, the answer is ALWAYS yes. And occasionally add (in an Australian accent) “mate, you’re soo leean I could wash my clothes on your abs!”.
- If you ever notice a 4th cat tat, subtly wipe it away, from skin and memory. It never happened.
- Weekends are graded on millage.
For example: “what are you up to this weekend?”
“Just a cheeky 50”
- Also, rides are sometimes cheeky. I’m led to believe it’s the same sort of cheeky fun that they serve at nandos.
- Bottles would appear to get frisky and mate at night. They’re everywhere. You’re bound to open a kitchen cupboard and have one fall on your face about 1/day.
- Chamois cream. After plunging his hand into his shorts while in a semi squat position and moving it around with a strange, almost confused look on his face, this traditionally ends with him pretending to wipe his hand on my face. I’ve grown wise to this.
- Not that important right? “Cant’ go too wrong with cycling socks.” Is something no cyclist ever said. Colour, length, design and appropriately combined with all other kit: they run the show. Get the socks wrong and the whole outfit is ruined. You might as well be standing there in full on team sky kit. I’d need a clean piece of white paper, a tape measure and a leg with a defined calf to explain my understanding of the sock doping theory.
Having now been fully immersed into the cycling world and absorbed what feels like a degrees worth of vocabulary, I think I’ve finally worked out where I sit amongst it all.
My role: Is essentially motivator. To hold up bits of scrap paper against the kitchen window when he’s outside on the rollers saying “keep going, think of the win, you can do this”. Or standing outside, chatting for the last half hour of a tough sesh. Getting up at 6 on Saturday and making pre-ride porridge, then getting up at 6 on Sunday for travelling/racing. And just being there to listen and share in the aches, moans, groans, triumphs, progression and excitement. To be unfalteringly supportive.
And then there’s race day. My favourite bit! This starts with getting bits out of the car, setting up the rollers. And then there’s pinning.
Pinning. Easy right?
No no, no no no. Anyone would think it could give you 60 seconds! But I’m getting better…I’m on a streak of 2 races for completely flat numbers!
And then along with shouting whatever comes to mind, I have one other job to do at the road side.
Rules of the hydration station:
- Never ever run. You just look like a numpty. If you stand in the same place each lap, they’ll know where you are, let them come to you.
- Be prepared. Have the bottles ready and held out for them to see. NB their preference for water or jizz juice (the cocaine consistency, powder energy drink stuff… I don’t actually know what consistency cocaine is though, honest!), if in doubt give them the sugar.
- Stand at the top of an incline.
- Do not allow thirsty thieves of the peloton to steal bottles from you.
And then finally, being there at the end with a hug and beer. There’s so much more to winning a race then who had the best legs on the day. Listening to the race breakdown, allows an informal debrief and always be positive- the lessons of this race will be the winnings of the next! And that’s pretty much my job done. Easy really 🙂
Thank you for reading!
Mediccyclist 
SO CUTE!