Cycling clubs should be less popular, but they aren’t

January 25, 2013
The Dynamo club championships: racers and non-racers, united. And not arguing.

The Dynamo club championships: racers and non-racers, united. And not arguing.

You know me, reader. You know the sort of person I am. I’m an honest man, and I will always endeavour to give you the unvarnished truth. So I feel I can tell you that London Dynamo hasn’t been travelling a smooth road lately.

Behind the walled city of our members-only forum, a few ’Mos have loudly complained that the club has lost its focus. Dynamo finished a mere sixth in the Surrey League last year – please, hold back your tears – and some of our more experienced racers feel the club’s racing culture has been eroded as more sportive riders have flooded in.

Despite my fondness for a good old ding-dong, I’m not too bothered by this contretemps. A lot of our big Surrey League point-scorers stopped racing for the club because they moved out of London or had kids. But a healthy number of newer members are going to Hillingdon to try out racing at the Imperial Winter Series, and more riders will make the transition from sportives to road racing. You’ve just got to give it time.

Nevertheless, the issue of how to handle the club’s ever-expanding size is likely to provide animated discussion at this year’s AGM, which takes place tomorrow. Some disillusioned members might not come along to join in with the arguments because they have decided not to renew their memberships. But it is notable that many more haven’t already left. Veteran club cyclist Tim Hilton, in his charming, freewheeling cultural history One More Kilometre And We’re In The Showers, observed that any cycling club’s maximum number of members was usually around 100. “The history of British cycling tells us that defections will occur, or a formal split, if this number is exceeded.” London Dynamo reached Hilton’s benchmark within 12 months, and by the end of 2012 – its ninth year – there were 560 paid-up members.

And these days there isn’t an imperative to join a cycling club in the first place. With GPS devices, newcomers to the sport can easily discover and navigate training rides themselves. Personal trainers can provide you with a training plan, or you can filch knowledge from books, magazines and the internet to create your own. You could even learn the basics of roadcraft from YouTube.

In this context, London Dynamo and other large clubs should be the HMVs of the cycling world, lumbering beasts struggling to adapt to the digital age. But instead of facing extinction or decline, membership numbers in most large clubs I know of are rising or remain high. Strava’s virtual club runs haven’t made a dent in the popularity of our rides, and the Rapha Rendezvous app, which aimed to connect users looking for others to ride with them, quietly disappeared some time during the past year.

So why are cycling clubs doing so well? I think the fundamental reason is that cycling can be bloody miserable. Before reaching the sunlit uplands of peak fitness, you must endure scores of desultory, rain-soaked miles, so it helps if you can be among a large group of people offering each other moral support along the way. The other key reason is the randomness: you can turn up week after week for a club run and never know exactly who you’re going to meet. A big club like ours can be a new club, or at least a slightly different one, every time you turn up for a ride.

But you can’t have amity without enmity, which is why I value the sometimes vociferous debates that take place within Dynamo, and the wide differences between members’ participation in the sport. The club will never be just a load of stats and info on a screen; we’re a living entity, and arguments are a sign of life, however ugly.


Ten questions we may never get answered

January 17, 2013

lance and oprah

1. Will you publicly acknowledge, for the sake of your own dignity and the wider sporting community, that triathlon isn’t actually a proper sport?

2. Can anyone actually pronounce “Madone” without having to Google it?

3. Black socks. Whose idea was that, sunshine?

4. You know back in the day, when David Letterman used to announce, “Ladies and gentlemen, the five-time winner of the Tour de France, Lance Armstrong!” and a fat kid wearing a yellow jersey would ride through the studio audience on a Trek while the band played a speeded-up version of Proud Mary? How long did you have to spend in makeup to pull that one off? And can you put one of those clips on YouTube? Man, I loved those skits. Great times.

5. You always surprised your rivals with an unexpected, audacious move that allowed you to gain the upper hand psychologically. When’s the cookbook coming out?

6. After all that’s happened, how can you expect any of us to believe that you were the first person to ride a bike on the moon? And without oxygen? Seriously WTF?

7. Do you know that when Festinagirl daydreams about frenching Bertie, she opens her eyes mid-snog and sees your face?

8. Honey Stingers – you could call ’em Bee PO! Hahahaha! Just putting that one out there, buddy.

9. Contrary to what’s been reported, can you confirm the only performance-enhancing rugs are on either side of Bradley Wiggins’ face?

10. Doping isn’t a victimless crime. Because of what you’ve done, thousands of us in the UK will ingest massive levels of caffeine to watch this ruddy interview at two o’clock in the morning. HOW DOES THAT MAKE YOU FEEL, YOU MONSTER?


Off for a bit

December 25, 2012

I’m off to do nothing in particular except eat lots of food and lark around with Jen. I’m grateful to everyone who has visited this blog over the past year, so have a good one, and I’ll see you back here in the New Year. In the meantime, I’ll leave you with a brief account of what will probably be my last long ride of 2012: the London Dynamo Christmas jaunt, which took place last Thursday.

About two dozen of us met at Dish café in Hampton Court. We split into groups of eight and rode to Windsor and back. The sky was dark for most of the journey and it was raining constantly. A couple of ’Mos were dressed head-to-toe in commuter-type waterproofs. One brave chap wore shorts. All of us got soaked through. Thankfully, I had the foresight to drop off a bag at my chum Paul Callinan’s house prior to setting off for Dish, so I was able to get changed into dry clothes before heading to The Albert pub on Kingston Hill for post-ride canapés and drinks. The picture below, which I took at the pub, appears to show a well-oiled Nigel Smith (he’s furthest away, by the TV) and Paul Harknett comparing the size of something. Perhaps it was the length of time they had each spent on the Dynamo committee.

Nigel Smith and Paul Harknett at The Albert

The Christmas ride, which is an annual fixture in the Dynamo calendar, is my favourite club event. No one really does it because they need the training; if you come, it’s for the sheer pleasure of riding your bike and being with like-minded people. It’s club riding in its purest and most essential form, and that’s why I’ll be back next Christmas for more.


The champion cyclist who made a pretty good record

December 24, 2012

You may have read Inner Ring’s piece on Bernard Hinault making, or at least lending his name to, a naff disco track released in 1980. It reminded me that there is another champion racing cyclist who made a record almost as obscure as Hinault’s, although it’s in an entirely different league.

24 Years Of Hunger is an album by a duo called Eg and Alice. Eg is Eg White, who went on to win an Ivor Novello award and write Chasing Pavements for Adele. Alice is Alice Temple, who became the first female to win the British and European BMX championships before becoming a singer. She sang on the track Bloodstain from Psyence Fiction, the first UNKLE album, and was also a model.

Released in 1991, 24 Years Of Hunger was the only album they made together. I was mildly obsessed by these songs back then and they’ve never let me down whenever I’ve revisited them. The album’s sound contains elements of Prince at his sparsest and most percussive, while Alice’s voice sounds vulnerable yet defiant. It has a very London feel, evoking a weariness beneath its poise, and there’s a truthfulness to these songs which I’ve not heard anywhere else.

The album has never been re-released on any format, which is why I’ve seen second-hand copies sell for up to £60 on Amazon. YouTube has the video for the first single Doesn’t Mean That Much To Me, although the clip has been taped off The Chart Show and only contains three-quarters of the song. But if you look closely, you might spot Alice and Eg riding bicycles.

I’ve never really followed BMX so I don’t know anything about Alice Temple’s brief cycling career, and I’ve no idea what she’s up to now. I don’t really need to know any more, though, because 24 Years says so much about her. That’s how good it is.


Who has signed the Change Cycling Now petition?

December 14, 2012

Have you signed up to bring about important changes to professional bike racing? These people have:

Chlamydia Horsefellow
Dusky Butterfinch
Henry Peacocks-Newways
Ronny Sausages
Steena Faafalaah
Spurious MC
Frankie Trimmings
Disco Fever
The Late Stafford Cripps MP
Yeh Youheardme

The Change Cycling Now website doesn’t ask for an email address. Any idiot can sign up using a load of daft names. So that’s exactly what I did.

Change you can't believe in

Change you can’t believe in

And Change Cycling’s petition attracted hundreds of signatures before the group had held its much-trumpeted summit to decide on its goals. So apart from the demand for independent anti-doping, those initial signatories wouldn’t have known exactly what they were signing up for.

Founded on vague goals and a magnet for fictitious names – this petition is looking a bit half-cocked, isn’t it? But at least the fella running the show knows what he’s doing. Well, I’d like to think so, although it’s possible that Jaimie Fuller didn’t quite understand I was being ironic when he retweeted me.


Stating the Blinder-ingly obvious

December 7, 2012

Knog Blinders

You’re a young company. You’ve designed a pair of bicycle lights. They’re great little units – bright, light, sturdy, and fastened by closing a neat metal clasp around a rubber strap. They’re also affordable. Best of all, you can recharge them by sticking them in a USB port. No more batteries!

So you get the first batch back from the factory, plug them into the back of your computer and… oh dear.

Knog Blinders not attached

You suddenly discover you can’t recharge them both simultaneously. The connectors are stubby and the lights are too big to fit closely together. Why didn’t you notice this sooner?

Obviously I’m speculating on the design process. Maybe the chaps at Knog knew from the moment they put pencil to paper that the Blinder 4s wouldn’t plug in straight out of the box. Perhaps they reckoned I would figure out I needed a couple of USB extension cables for recharging. But it’s reasonable for customers to assume they could just plug them both in, so it’s irksome that you can’t.

The reviews I’ve subsequently come across on blogs (Urban Velo, Pedal Consumption, Bike Soup and FLO Cycling) haven’t mentioned this obvious consequence of the lights’ design. This is because Knog appear to have sent reviewers only one light instead of two. A crafty move?


Ben Folds in five minutes

December 4, 2012

It’s Littlejen’s birthday today. Happy birthday, small lady! To celebrate, we’re going to see Ben Folds Five at the Brixton Academy tonight. Before that, though, here is a brief, five-minute post on the great man.

Some think of Ben as either a late ’90s indie-pop merchant or a piano balladeer. Each is a valid, if partial, view. I think it’s truer to say that he’s from the same unique strain of American music that has produced Sparks, Todd Rundgren and Randy Newman – idiosyncratic, sometimes downright wayward, but always intensely melodic and musically literate. His songs are often good stories, too.

At this point I, as a fan, should ask you to listen to a track in an attempt to win over the doubters and the curious. Instead, I would ask you not to listen too closely to the following song itself, but the audience’s reactions to it.

One Down is about writing songs to a schedule: one down, only 3.6 to go before he fulfills the quota set down by his publisher. It’s a fairly obscure track, and most of the audience would probably be hearing it for the first time. But they react in all the right places: laughing at the self-deprecation and absurdity of the situation described in the song, silent for the romantic interlude in the middle eight then applauding at the end of it, surprised and delighted by its incongruity.

Judges on TV singing competitions have popularised the phrase “connecting with your audience”, which sometimes is simply code for performing in a way that keeps a crowd from getting bored. On One Down, a genuine emotional connection takes place, and you can actually hear it happening. I think that makes it an extraordinary recording, and qualifies Ben as one of the world’s great songwriters. And who knows – we might even get a moment as unique as this one tonight…


A short history of Strava

November 30, 2012

Everybody loves Strava

January 14, 1820: Baron Nicolas de Strava completes a single lap of the Jardin du Luxembourg on a solid gold velocipede. His exhausted footman, instructed to run behind his employer bearing a pocket watch placed upon on a velvet cushion, etches the baron’s time of 5hr 14 min, along with a rudimentary sketch of the route, into a nearby pear tree. Soon, every French nobleman is engraving their “Stravas” in the grounds of their palaces. A phenomenon is born.

December 31, 1999: With participation in time trials dwindling and a new century about to begin, a secret convocation of pointy-hatters takes place in Aigle, Switzerland to discuss how more cyclists can be recruited to the clandestine discipline of the tri-spoke. America’s representative, a certain Roger d’Strava, inspires the assembled throng by telling the story of his great-great-great grandfather’s historic act of penis-waving. What if, he posits, we could adapt rudimentary bike computers so that every ride becomes a time trial? Suddenly, the atmosphere in the room is electric. The future has arrived.

Today: It would take many years of technological advancement, but d’Strava’s giddy vision has finally been fulfilled, and it is a testament to the universal popularity of Strava that none of us tire of hearing its users recounting their King of the Hill exploits on Twitter, Facebook and down the pub. Non-cyclists have even replicated the thrill of Strava by downloading racing games onto their phones and playing them outside, often in the pissing rain, for up to five hours at a time while sporadically shouting their high scores at passing strangers. Truly, we live in the age of Strava.


The Putney Experience

November 23, 2012

Putney. It’s a happening little suburb in south-west London. It’s got a cinema. It’s got a shopping centre. It’s got cafes and bars. It’s even got a Waitrose, where you can buy mince pies that smell like a Christmas tree. And at the top of the high street, on the corner of Putney Bridge and Lower Richmond Road, it has a neglected retail unit which, bafflingly given its prominence, has been unoccupied for at least a decade. But do not shed a tear for this lonely runt, because its façade has been spruced up to promote an amorphous concept which the burghers of SW15 have termed “the Putney experience”.

By studying this repurposed shop window, we can see what The Putney Experience amounts to: groups of rowers and competitive bicyclepeople, the latter apparently racing in flared trousers.

It’s a cause for rejoicing that cyclists now seem to be considered a vital part of Putney life, even though the representation of our clothing isn’t entirely accurate. But I’m not quite sure how Joe Public is meant to react. Maybe a visitor to the area will think to himself, “Well, I was going to watch a film, have a latte in the Caffè Nero down the road and then pick up a box of those Heston Blumenthal mince pies, but screw it – this is Putney, and I shall now experience its Putneyness to the full by becoming a competitive cyclist on this very day, even though I am not appropriately equipped in the trouser area.”

Maybe that will happen. I kind of doubt it, though. But if it does, I’ll be ready to welcome them into The Putney Experience.


The rules of The Rules

November 16, 2012

Against The Rules

1. To follow The Rules, you must resolutely ignore the obvious truth: it is not your duty to follow anyone’s arbitrary rules. If it were, you would never ride a bicycle in the first place. You would be a gym slave, or a couch potato, or a golf nut.

2. But if you want to be treated like a golfer, then you’ll fully embrace the second rule of The Rules: cycling is one big clubhouse and, as such, there must be a dress code, or chaos shall reign. Sock length, correct usage of caps and the positioning of eyewear – these things are the equivalent of designating which ties are acceptable in the bar area. And by obsessing over sartorial details, you’re attempting to obviate the most marvelous aspect of cyclists’ appearance: their inherent, proud, glorious daftness. What other pastime would allow you to routinely adopt the aesthetic of a superhero (Zabriskie), a mod (Wiggins), a human-sized sex toy (Cipo) or a tweedy fop, all without violent repercussions? Ridicule, to paraphrase a wiser man than myself, truly is nothing to be scared of in the realm of the bicycle.

3. Another man who is also much wiser than me recently opined: “Lists move in when love moves out.” And so it is with The Rules. For its adherents, the pure joy of riding has dissolved to such an extent that you need a rule to remind yourself of that long-forgotten pleasure (it’s entry number six, if you’re looking to somehow reclaim that feeling). You have become a librarian of the soul, observing an empty superstition that cultivating the correct tan lines or avoiding frame-mounted pumps will somehow make things better. It won’t. The magic is over. The romance has gone. But hey – there’s always golf, fellas!

4. If you need to go on the internet to learn the guidelines for courteous, safe cycling, then you don’t ride with a club. You are alone. Of all the rules of The Rules, this one is the most tragic.

5. Alpha males do not need to read a list telling them it is vitally important to own bicycles more expensive than their car, or that they’re a “badass” for riding in inclement weather. They do these sorts of things instinctively, because alpha males are creatures of action, biologically programmed to thump their chests. Of all the rules of The Rules, this is the most comedic: you will never be an alpha male, but you must try your absolute hardest to be a facsimile of one. Even though the real silverbacks are genetically predisposed to not give a toss about you.

6. Similarly, you may not be a sexist berk, but the rules of The Rules demand that you snigger at a story about Sean Kelly valuing his wife less than his car or his bike, even though he may not have said the words attributed to him in rule 11. Oh, and there’s beer. Apparently beer is a key component of your identity as a man. True, there is also an admirable rule advising men not to get all antsy if they are overtaken by a woman. But only two mentions of female cyclists among 91 entries? We’re back in the metaphorical clubhouse again!

7. “Hey,” the Ruleistas might say, “lighten up, dude! The Rules are funny!” A sensible response is to direct them to the photograph at the top of this post. Seriously, is anything in The Rules as funny as that guy breaking them? And if you can’t be funnier than the thing you’re mocking then, surely, you have failed.