Memo To "Real" Cyclists

Every time I see a "real" cyclist I feel like I need to encourage them to do some upper body work. Lift weights for crying out loud. Eat something. I can hear their collar bones snapping now and they haven't even crashed yet. I must not be a "real" cyclist because I don't even think I CAN break my collar bone. I've tried. Multiple times. There's just too much protective fat enveloping it. Plus I try to work my upper body some. Nobody has ever been guilty of telling me I need to eat more.

I've smacked the pavement a number of times over the years and each time it's my palm, wrist, forearm, elbow and shoulder that takes the brunt of the impact. I have the scars to prove it. Usually it's on my left side from trying to protect the drive side of my bike as I'm hurtling toward the ground.

Bradley Wiggins

Nothing ever too serious but one time a couple years ago hard enough to crack open my helmet. Between being tired and trying to move my bidon to the rear cage, it seems I smacked into a dollop of left over cement blob that had been left to harden in the shoulder of the road. 

I wasn't looking. I didn't see it. I had only one hand on the bar, or more accurately, on the left hood and I smacked the road hard and slid about 20 feet after landing on my palm, wrist, forearm, elbow, shoulder, hip and head. One hand on the hood and cement blobs and 26 mph don't mix very well.

Michael Olheiser

I jumped up, checked over the bike, brushed off the road rash, snapped my useless helmet on my stem, grabbed my rear derailleur and yanked it out as best I could and coasted down the three remaining miles of hill to the nearest bike shop to get my derailleur hanger straightened, buy a new helmet and clean my scrapes up in the restroom.

My collar bone was wondering "is that all you got? Meh. Piece of cake." Got the bike fixed up enough and rode it back home. I was stiff and sore the next day but no real harm done. Except for the cracked open helmet and a few items of kit. Oh and the abuse to the bike. It made me thankful that I'm not a "real" cyclist. It gave me some consolation for always being the last guy up the hill and for being the big guy that's usually popping off the back. It made me glad (kind of) that you don't have to squint to see my upper body like you have to do with a "real" cyclist.

So, if you're a "real" cyclist, let ME inspire YOU. Do some upper body work. Eat something. Stat. I need you to slow down a little so I can keep up. I need you to get to a point where I can make it up the hill with you.

I learned a valuable lesson that day. Maybe I can share it with you "real" cyclists. The only thing that should be cracking is your helmet or your bike. Lift some weights. Please. Eat some food. Please. I'm getting tired of hearing your collar bones snap.