Someone recently asked me what advice I’d have for a young rider hoping to make a career in pro cycling. It is not the first time such a thing has happened. It’s understandable that anyone would read my weekly shtick of grumbling, bitching and general misanthropy and think, “Yes. I’d like my child to grow up just like that.”
Normally I point-blank refuse. For a start, I was never a junior rider so I don’t know what it’s like. If I were going to follow the very well-worn columnist- in-a-bit-of-a-deadline-fix route and write a column about what I’d say to my younger self, it would have to be, “Hey look, you need to accept that you’re fundamentally useless in a sailing dinghy and take up cycling. Yes, I know the clothes are terrible, but trust me, it’s the only way, because you’re not winning the America’s Cup. You won’t win the Tour de France either.”
