Growing up, I imagine my dad did his fair share of worrying about me getting into trouble with chemicals and girls. Like with most problems in life, the solution lay in Cycling; training encouraged healthy behavior and once my dad convinced me to shave my legs, no one needed to worry about the girls anymore.
Cycling caused its fair share of problems of its own, but nothing that couldn’t be solved by more Cycling. I stopped spending as much time on my studies as I might have, and all my creative energies and capacity for remembering things were spent on Cycling. Who won the Tour stage on Bastille Day in 1989? Vincent Barteau. Who were the Founding Fathers? Washington, Franklin, Jefferson…Can I use a life line?
We’re big fellas, my dad and I, and that poses certain challenges in Cycling. A love for suffering and for a sense of accomplishment meant our hearts drifted towards the mountains, but our physiology pulled toward the rollers and flat terrain. We were never going to be the fastest, or the skinniest, or the best sprinters. But we could twist the throttle, watch the the needle rev up to just shy of the red line, and hold it there for hours. We could use our momentum to carry speed over the short, steep hills we found dotted along our routes. At one point in my youth, I remember looking at the little ring on my bike and wondering, in all earnestness, what it was there for.
The first time we went to France, I discovered quite handily why that little ring was there. We were not grimpeurs; we were rouleurs, and rouleurs use the little ring when the road points up for a long time. A rouleur, in Cycling, is a rider who goes well on the flat and rolling terrain. They are characterized less by their size, but by their style on the machine; a magnificent stroke tuned to sustained power, not high revolutions or bursts of acceleration. Rouleurs are good time trialists, they do well on short climbs, but are usually found in the laughing group when the profile starts to look like the cardiogram of a teenage boy who just saw his first pair of boobs. Some of them can climb well for their weight, but a rouleur is rarely at the front when the big mountains come along.
Translated from French, rouleur means having wheels, or to roll. But Hinault would use the word roule in conversation in the context of standing, or pushing, on the pedals. I quite like the sound of that. They have a wide power band, but can only win a sprint from a group of one or a small group of other rouleurs – although technically those tend to be more akin to “drag racing” than “sprinting”. They are characterized by being able to gobble up an enormous amount suffering, and are usually just dim enough to wear a wide smile on their face when its happening. And giggle maniacally when describing the suffering afterward.
Winning isn’t everything to the rouleur, which is why they’re often found among the ranks of the domestique. The rouleur needs to study the map, looking for the right terrain with the right kind of lumps if they’re going to have a chance of being at the front in a road race. They are possibly the most exciting to watch race; races of attrition suit them, as does bad weather – and when they’re in the break, they’re usually dumb enough to take their strength for granted and over-estimate themselves. Betting on the rouleur is a gamble, but their style of racing often means that even when they lose, it was a great show.
Merckx bless the rouleur.
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@Ken Ho
Classic...
I probably am (and always have been) a rouleur, if I'm anything at all.
Even back in the day, when I was hovering somewhere between 82 and 78 kg (at 193 cm, or 6' 4"), I was never the one to start any fireworks, however much I wanted to.
Likewise, at present, everybody can out-sprint me and almost everybody can climb big hills faster than I. Most cyclists can out-smart me tactically, I reckon, but on a good day, when the legs are strong and the diesel is firing on all cylinders, I can drop the majority of my friends. I might take me the best part of a day, but in the end I'll drop 'em. Like the great Krabbé says about that lovable character Lebusque: "It's not an attack; he's not capable of that. He's just strangling us slowly..."
@urbanwhitetrash
Now that is lexicon worthy.
@ped
LOVE Ludo/Lando!!!
Well said. Climbs well for his weight. Can roll hard on the flats and rollers. Likes bad weather. When I was young I lived in Connecticut and fancied myself a climber. Not so much. If only Winning Magazine had used more terms like this I would have known my two wheeled calling sooner.
I had some stickers, err, umm, I mean "decals" on the chainstays of my Cannondale. When viewed from behind - which was a view others rarely had - one stay said "Sprints like a climber" and the other stay said "Climbs like a sprinter". The travesty in all this is that I'm don't think I even qualify as a Rouleur. I guess my only saving grace is that I'll Rule 9 in a heart beat. I've been threatening to moved to Kentucky (if my house ever sells) and the guy I ride with all the time was lamenting this. He's like "Dude, you're the only one that will ride with me no matter what the weather and you're the only one that understands that every ride isn't a testosterone pissing match." Little does he know that his zone 2 is my zone 4 so in actuality I am pissing testosterone - along with blood - just to keep up.
Did someone say rouleur?
@Cyclops
Nomination for a most succinct and perfect post. Remember this one when it is most needed.
@frank Yates was a beautiful gorilla.
@urbanwhitetrash
I liked how you put it during the cogal: A mountain goat in a gorilla costume.
Enjoyed this. Definitely my favorite type of rider and the kind I want to be/think I am even if my body type is probably better suited for something else. 2011 P-R is probably my favorite race to watch over and over again.