Cycling Reports

Blame it on the weatherman

By Gerard Cromwell (May 20)

Noel Gallagher of Oasis penned the line; 'Nobody ever mentions the weather can make or break your day'. This is especially true if you're a cyclist on this week's FBD Milk Rás.

This morning on the Rás, as almost 200 cyclists from 11 different countries are wakening at roughly the same time, from a hard-earned slumber, in a bed they will most likely never see again, they will all do the same thing first.

400 eyes will be blinked open, rubbed, wiped and focussed on the nearest window. Bright light seeping through the curtains will usually lift the spirits and maybe give some consolation for having to get up three to four hours before the stage start (to allow digestion of the pre-race breakfast). A dimly lit room, however, will send many riders into a state of gloom and doom and will have ruined their chances of glory before they get out of bed.

In the hope that the curtains are merely made from 'blackout' material, the rider will wander over and open them to investigate further. The shrubs and trees in the gardens of many a B&B or hotel will be checked rigorously to see if they are being blown backwards or from side to side in a wind which might have the same effect on a tired rider later in the day. But wind is to be expected. You get wind every day, sometimes a gentle breeze, sometimes a gale. An experienced cyclist will be able to use his colleagues as mobile shelters and will not be unduly worried. There are worse things than wind.

An experienced rider won't even have to open his eyes to see it. He will hear it rapping on the window, daring him to put on a pair of cycling shorts and come out and play. An experienced rider will just go back to sleep for a few more precious minutes, before the team manager comes calling. He will probably hear his team-mates moans of disappointment. "It's raining!"

Cyclists don't like rain. It makes you wet. You get wet from the downpour. You get soaked from riding through big puddles of rainwater. You get saturated from the water running off the sides of overhanging rocks in the mountains. You get drenched by the freezing spray that hits you in the face, as it flies from the rear wheel in front of you.

The muck and grit, which gets propelled through the air with this spray, clings to your face and grips to your teeth. It's known in cycling jargon as 'Belgian toothpaste'. In the hope that this muck and grit (feel free to replace the letters 'gr' with 'sh') doesn't go into your eyes, you close them so tight you can see your own eyelashes. Every few seconds you open them alternately and constantly pray that nobody in front of you falls off. As your vision is compromised by squinting, so too is your safety as you are more likely to concentrate just on the wheel in front of you than to look up the road for anything likely to cause a crash.

Anyone who has ever felt the chill of a hairdryer accidentally turned to cold on wet skin, will have an idea of what it is like to race in the rain. Imagine you are naked and somebody has just thrown a bucket of water at you and switched on the biggest cold hairdryer you have ever seen and you get an inclination of what it's like to descend off a mountain in the rain.

Brakes don't work as good in the rain as they do on a dry day - apply them too hard and you skid uncontrollably, apply them too late and you simply don't stop until you hit something. Combine all that with the fact that even if you do everything in your power to keep upright as you hurtle down the Donegal Penninsula, it doesn't necessarily mean the guy two inches in front of you is doing the same. If he falls, you fall.

Mechanics don't like rain. They have to wash a full set of dirty, mud-caked team bikes after a wet stage. Neutral service crews don't like rain. Extra grit on the roads means extra punctures and a soaking each time a wheel is changed. Commisaires don't like rain. They have to referee the Rás from an open sunroof in a following car. Four hours of being pelted by driving rain and wind. Not nice. Motorbike marshals don't like rain. Leather suits are hard to get dry in time for the following days stage. Race Doctors don't like rain. More crashes means more patients and longer hours.

What about journalists? Do we like rain? Well... we don't like rain any more than the next man but it does make for an interesting days racing! Sometimes you have to keep wiping the condensation from the inside of the car window to get a good view of the action. But hey, we're not the type to complain about the weather!

Email: gerard@irishcycling.com

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