#tdu2017

Full disclosure - there’s not a single photo of the pro Peloton ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Day 1

Well, a series of Jetstar & God’s blunders

I’m still relatively new to cycling, I’d say in the last 6 months I feel strong, really finding my stride, or (pedal) stroke, what have you. And I have these miasmic memories of missing out on #TdU2016 - suddenly everyone was gone and I was whipping my head around rasping “Huh? Td - what?”. And then came the photos, the videos, the enormous envy welling up inside me. 

So, jumping ahead to #TdU2017, I wanted to get there desperately. Thursday night came and I went, gliding on clouds of bliss to Tullamarine, Terminal 4. Lugging that bike bag, savouring it’s weight on my shoulder, leaving deep aching marks there, and deep imbued memories on my brain.

I watched the storm on Thursday 18th of January charge it’s way across the ocean, a cavalry of wind, rain and lightning thrashing it’s mane over the city. So much so in fact that we couldn’t land. A lap of Adelaide later and we returned to Melbourne. So went The Evening of Thursday 18th of January. Spent entirely in a flying metal tube. 

Day 1 

Okay let’s try this again

A 4:30am start with 3 hours sleep, a 6:30am flight complimented by a lukewarm and floppy McDonalds muffin-type breakfast. 8:30am and I’m in Adelaide, the living room of Andy, Caz, Jake and Gen. Jake greet me heartily with a warm “huh? you’re here already?”, his underpants hanging loosely to his lean Adelaidean cyclist leggos. We embraced, he is very kind and lovely. And together we sat in a silent morning daze, on the edge of nihilism in the face of another day, but as the rays of the sun fought their way through the blinds, we shook our heads clear of their dustiness and begun our days.

Bike built (with the help of Andy’s marvellous and very useful Park Tools Work Stand), coffee had and Ebenezer Place along with Treadly Bici Shoppe looked at, I joined Adrian and his crew of mischief makers for a self styled* “recovery ride”. *self styled becomes contextually importante

Here is where the riding begins, and by God, this was no recovery. I had been had. More than less, this was in search of down for the sake of up, short and sharp, anaerobic heart rates, sweat stinging the eyes. And a whole lot of smiles, sweeping descents and laughs. Okay, the photos begin now jeez

This ride was tough, by no means am I a mountain goat on bike, nor is my bike the stiffest $15,000 hot mess an Investment Banker in team kit would put on the card for points - but I reached each crest, and pushed past them. I also learnt the value in compact chainrings and the Dean Jones 32t Cassette Workout Programme, the hard way. 

This gruelling adventure, off the back of the Thursday night storm which lashed the windows of Adelaide, my plane and soul all equally, was exactly what I set out to be a part of. Tour Envy(tm) had been avoided, innate human desire for suffering and self destruction satiated, belly grumbling for nutrition and brain yearning for naps all ticked off in a 420 birds with one stone bonanza.

Big thanks to Alex, Adrian, Cam and Finn for having me along. Glad I could keep up - or that you kept a gentle pace ;)

We managed to make it in time for a little interview with Lachy Morton, hurr’ing and durr’ing as he does, and a little viewing of Thereabouts 3, with Lachy Morton’s hurr’ing and durr’ing offset by brother Gus Morton’s sharp green eyes and we were ready to eat.

Now, there aren’t any photos of my evening: a grand feast, the likes of which have never seen before, was had in the halls of Kopi Tim, Adelaide’s finest vegan friendly Malaysian restaurant. Why no photos? This is a photo bloggo after all you dolt. Well because it was one of those times, so sublime was my company that my finger ne’er did reach for a shutter - nay it didn’t reach for much other than food and my single accompanying beer (cheers to Max who joined my lead-out attack in that regard, and made me not feel like a freak in a bunch of healthy vibrant non-drinking... people who are really wonderful. This is sprawling). And so three meals inhaled down my gullet later we bid adieu to Kopi Tim and slowly rolled through the city, branching off as the intersections came and went. 

A big thank you to Andy, Caz, Jake, Gen, Sam, Fiona, Lana, Max and Faz for making that dinner sit as a trophy in my heart. These are fantastic people with big kind hearts, full of empathy and love. Big ups. 

Day 2

Willunga Return - pro cycling is very boring (terms and conditions apply*)

Because I am a very delicate flower I’m not used to back to back days of long riding, but there was something in the air, something in the water, food, bed linen, that invigorated the spirit and granted bonuses to Strength, Intelligence, Dexterity, Constitution, Wisdom and Charisma. It was essentially the DnD v5 character sheet with a Bard and Cleric char giving squad bonuses on a 5d5 roll that always hits. Duh, it’s a buff.

Now on the vein of me being a flower - I slept in, received messages from Caz along the lines of “where are you?”, “Get up and get here”, “We’re going to leave”, “Oh what?”, “Oops yes you’re right the ride doesn’t leave until 9am”. #ProHours Caz. Anyway, she did save me from myself, and as a flower does I rolled out of bed like a sack of potatoes, rolled into kit, rolled into town, rolled into the cafe and rolled some coffee into my body, then rolled into the hills on my bike, all the fashion of a sack of potatoes. 

This was a day spent cruising, some challenging difficult climbing, some loose gravel but always followed with smiles. That’s very much what this was - a day of smiles.

It’s really just a whole lot of me sitting on Andy’s wheel. I don’t have a single regret - that booty just so fine.

This was a long’un - a series of episodic run-ins with friends from all over, as if the entirety of Melbourne’s cyclist mass had migrated west, diving head first into the summer instead of patiently waiting it’s arrival back home. 

I’m just gushing and stammering madly about how good the entire time was - and thus I’d like to continue thanking people who helped make it so pleasant, in the extreme. Lana, Max, Andy, Tim, Alex, Faz (even though she relentlessly dropped us, forgetting, surely, for the entire day that she wasn’t in fact registered to race in the Tour itself), Caz, Gen and Jake for being a thoroughly entertaining and early rising support crew. And I’d like to thank myself for just being me, you know.

Of the evening itself I can’t remember much, perhaps in a fugue state I was unable to consolidate as my cup overflowth with joy - an analogous situation reminiscent of Socrates story of the Three Sieve:

From Lyceum Philosophy, Happy and Freedom in Socrates & Callicles:

A brief description of the two myths is in order. In the first one, Socrates speaks about those uninitiated ones in Hades who carry water into a leaky jar using a leaky sieve (where the sieve is meant to be the soul). And because they leak, he likens the souls of fools to sieves (493b-c). In the second, he tells of two men, each of whom has many jars. The jars belonging to one of them are sound and full (one with honey, another with milk, etc.). It is also supposed that the sources of each of these things are scarce and so attainable only with much toil. Now the one man, having filled up his jars, doesn’t pour anything more into them and so he can relax. As for the other man, he too has the resources that can be attained, though with difficulty, but his jars are perforated and rotten. And so he’s forced to continually fill them, all day round, or else he suffers frustration and pain (493d-494a). 

And yet Socrates, there I sat, a man with a full jar - happy as Larry with yet more to pour in and spill lavishly around the outside of what I envisage as a mason jar, full of a banana soy protein milkshake. I’ll stick to that, you enjoy your hemlock, bro.

I went to bed happy once again.

*Riding 3 hours to see Sagan not pop a wheelie for 3 seconds rates poorly. Pro cycling is a good view from a couch, and even then, most of the time it’s white noise until the final 10km. So if it’s not friends, or me, I don’t super care. This is just another person’s opinion.

Day 3

Let’s hit the hills, let’s feel sore and go to to a cafe

Hey it was something of a inner-chuff, feeling familiar with Montecute road, enough to pace myself at least to the top of Corkscrew. Having been duped by The Adrian Zanado ‘I don’t know how to run a recovery ride’ recovery ride, I decided not to give Corkscrew another strong burl. This decision was compounded by a half rotten corpse that used to be Mason Hender, that I found at the top (later analysis proved a solid 15km ave [or something], and roughly 300watts ave [I think thats like 8.5watts per kg]).

And on we went, resting here and there, enjoying the calm gentle afternoon. Time to stop by a clearwater babbling brook to watch the fish lazily wave their tails against the flow of the stream felt like something we could do for hours were it not for the immediately pressing of matter of getting Cam the fuck home asap as soon as goddamn fucking possible, holy shit they’re gonna fucking leave without him, shit what they dumped his stuff outside the hotel room? What the fuck, dude we’re like 60km and 1,000m up and away from there, fuck fuck okay lets fucking bomb down the old freeway oh fuck.

After the frantic descending at 70km/ph we finally bombed our way into the CBD to be greeted with this:

Were they happy that Cam’s ride took far far longer than we had possibly anticipated? We will never know, it’s one of those meta physical matters that only death would grant us the answers to. And yet, maybe not even then - who could possibly say.

What I can say is that the meal I had at this cafe was top notch. And out the window went my Melbournian elitism as Adelaide planted itself firmly as a strong contender for Second Capital City (Maybe) after Melbourne (and definitely never Sydney). In this scenario the whole of Canberra has dishonourably retired from the political and economic world after using tax payer money to buy apartments on the Gold Coast.

So in closing...

What can I say about TdU2017 and the people of Adelaide?

My heart swells - I can say that with a keen crystal clarity. I feel much love for the event of TdU, not specifically for the event itself - as well organised as it is. Not specifically for the city of Adelaide which opens it’s arms and accepts us all, allowing us to clog it’s road arteries and veins. It’s not even specifically the love of cycling itself, no - it’s very much the people on the bikes. 

Sure, I don’t know them all, that would be outrageous. But the ones I do know are the best of people. I wrote this earlier, and to repeat myself: I’ve found in them a great kindness, openness and empathy. Immediately they’ve warmed to new people and like their city, open their arms to us. I’m glad to know I’ll see them at least once a year for (hopefully) many many years to come.

Now this isn’t to say us Melbournian’s are the pits - nah we’re pretty great too. Some of the finest were out there, and for every moment I spent with them I am thoroughly appreciative. 

So in closing: smiles, laughter, a heavy pedal, sweat dripping from the tip of my nose after a deep exhale. These small moments made a whole, and it’s a whole I’ll treasure.

Is there a motor on this one?

The TDU Commissaire checks every day. [via Marcus Speed]