quitting CCN Cycling Team

ah what a relief. internal crap not worthy even of a mention has left me with little choice but to leave the team I joined last July. suffice to say it’s hard to race for a team when you aren’t on the roster for any races.

meh, whatever. options are appearing. in any case, if there’s anything i’ve learnt in this 40-year stay on this odd planet, it’s that there is comfort in the realisation that when you meet ********, you can actually just walk away.

unfortunately for them, they don’t have that luxury…

i wrote this, below, a year ago, after the Genting stage at the Tour de Langkawi. there’s been quite a bit of WTF?’ to get through these past few days, but re-reading this was a reaffirmation of this two-wheeled way of life.

“…Back at the very grand hotel, romantically embedded between manicured greens and the rampant, oversexed jungle, I stood by two Pure Black guys (nice lads, the lot of them) on a terrace watching golfers. One of them turned to me, face lined and wearied beyond its 24 or so years, and said, “Man, we chose the wrong sport.”

Yeah. And right then, after 180km of hurt, I agreed with him. But after a moment’s refection, I didn’t.

No, fella. We choose the most beautiful. The most epic. The daftest. The most furious, the most poetic, romantic, brutal, life-affirming and soul-destroying sport of all, the sport that drives its flawed geniuses to destruction and its devotees to distraction. Itʼs the simple love affair of man with machine, human-powered machine, and itʼs the one toy from childhood we get to keep, that grown men and women still get to play with, all over the world, no matter how old, no matter what culture, race, creed or ideology. Itʼs the thing that gave you the freedom to leave your neighborhood and to explore the world around and when we race, itʼs the same barnstorming thrill you had when you sped down your block, racing home from school against Pete Barnes to see who could get to the edge of the cul-de-sac first. It’s that same rush, that same freedom, the same Breath of Sheer and Unadultered Life.

The sport of kings, kid. Beat that.”

boo

ya

ka

sha

call the cops, i'm outta here!
call the cops, i’m outta here!

Author: Lee Rodgers

Cycling coach, race organiser, former professional cyclist and the original CrankPunk.

12 thoughts

    1. Speaking for those of us with Adultered lives I hope you find a path with fewer bumps. How else will I get my Bike porn? You know what I mean. The things you watch but would never actually do. To live vicariously through your exploits. To cheer you triumphs and mourn your falls. To pretend for a few moments that I too am capable of such amazing and glorious things. God speed my friend. God speed you to a better place so I can once again read this blog and play with my crank. The queen should Knight you for the service you do.

  1. hey guys, thanks for the comments, they are very much appreciated. i shall crank on. may we all crank on. except for Ryan, whom i fear may be cranking too much 😉

  2. Nothing comes close to the bliss of feeling your lungs burn, legs aching with the lactic acid, heart about to burst and being in that beautiful zone of knowing you could go for hours more…

  3. Indien ist das Gastland der Frankfurter Buchmesse. Seine Gegenwartsliteratur zeigt eine nervöse Mittelschicht: Die Aufsteiger sind sich ihrer Position noch keineswegs sicher. Welten liegen zwischen einem Callcenter Mitarbeiter, einem Technologiekonzern Chef und einem kleinen Taxiunternehmer. Seine Gegenwartsliteratur zeigt eine nervöse Mittelschicht: Die Aufsteiger sind sich ihrer Position noch keineswegs sicher. Welten liegen zwischen einem Callcenter Mitarbeiter, einem Technologiekonzern Chef und einem kleinen Taxiunternehmer. Trotz aller Triumphe der Informationstechnologie lassen sich eine Milliarde Inder nicht per Glasfaserkabel transportieren und versorgen. Wie in anderen Metropolregionen ist der öffentliche Nahverkehr deshalb die Schlagader, ohne die Indiens urbane Mittelschicht von ihrem Lebensunterhalt abgeschnitten wäre. Die Anschläge in Mumbai vom 11. Juli Indiens “7/11” mit über 180 Toten richteten sich nicht nur unmittelbar gegen Menschen, sondern auch gegen Indiens Traum vom märchenhaften Aufstieg zur Hightech Weltmacht, vom Schlaraffenland der IT Entwickler, Unternehmer und Dienstleister.

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