A True World Tour?

The Paris-Roubaix race is often called "L'enfer du Nord":  the Hell of the North. This "classic," a long one-day road race, is held early in the Spring and has run through all kinds of weather, from snowstorms to heat waves.  It also includes mud and some of the roughest cobblestone roads in Europe.  Many riders who excelled in other kinds of races avoided Paris-Roubaix, or didn't fare well in it:  Bernard Hinault, arguably the most dominant racer not named Eddy Mercx (and, like Mercx, a five-time Tour de France winner) entered P-R only once.  He won, but vowed never to ride it again, in part because the tendinitis that afflicted his knees was aggravated by the vibration of the cobblestones and the weather

If P-R is the "Hell" of the North, Belgium's Ghent-Wevelgem might be its Purgatory.  The annual race winds through Flandrian towns anc countryside and includes those notorious those notorious  Belgian cobblestones that challenge the best dental work as well as other parts of riders' bodies.

The Paris-Roubaix and Ghent-Wevelgem are, like other classics including  Milan-San Remo,  considered Tour-level (elite) races.  For decades, they were dominated by riders from  northern and western European countries like Belgium, France and Italy.  Since the fall of the Soviet Union, riders from former Bloc countries have made their mark, as they have in the Grand Tours (Tour de France, Giro d'Italia, Vuelta a Espana).  So have cyclists from the Americas, mainly the US, Canada, Mexico and Colombia.

For a long time, observers believed that the first non-European or American riders to establish a presence in the European racing circuit would come from Japan, which has long had a strong tradition of cycling.  Also, China looked ready to become a cycling powerhouse because they have done so in other sports and it, like Japan, has a long tradition of cycling.

Perhaps they, or some other Asian country, will infiltrate the ranks of Tour-level riders.  But, perhaps not surprisingly, the latest cyclist to interrupt the European hegemony has come from a place that, however quietly, has been turning out other world-class athletes.

Yesterday, Biniam Girmay defeated favorites Christophe Laporte of France and Belgian Dries van Gestel in the latest edition of Ghent-Wevelgem.  The 21-year-old hails from Eritrea, an East African country across the Red Sea from Yemen.  He rode with a mastery and discipline that belied his youth:  Although he mastered the cobblestones, he left enough in the tank for a perfect sprint finish.

Biniam Girmay (l) celebrates his victory.  Photo by Kurt Desplenter, for Agence France- Presse.

Perhaps this is a sign that the World Championship will one day live up to its name--in cycling as well as other sports.  

What's That About Smaller Wheels?

Jan Heine insists that larger-diameter wheels with narrower tires don't roll faster than smaller-diameter with wider tires.

These guys aren't listening--or don't care about speed.

I must say, though, that I'm glad I don't have to build wheels like those:  I hear spokes are in short supply, even in conventional sizes! 

Somehow I imagine those guys weren't thinking about supply chain issues! 

¿Por Qué El Avetruz Cruzó La Calle?

Every once in a while, an animal crosses my path while riding.  Usually, the creature is a cat or dog who darts away when I get within a few feet.  When I've ridden in Florida, little green lizards played "chicken" with me as I rode along the paths and sidewalks. In Cambodia, macaques sat guard on the side of the road as I pedaled between the temples of Siem Reap. And in Laos, an elephant stopped and stared at me and the couple with whom I rode in and around Luang Pr'bang.

Only once did I have a too-close encounter with an animal:  On the return leg of a ride to Point Lookout, a cat (black, no less!) charged into my path and glanced off my front wheel--something I've never experienced before or since.  I tumbled into the rear of a parked car and ended up with bruises and a couple of days' worth of pain, but no serious injury. 

At least I was more fortunate than a woman in Argentina.  As she pedaled into a Buenos Aires intersection, an ostrich--yes, you read that right--charged into her.  

Now, since I have never encountered an ostrich that wasn't caged,  I had no idea that they could run so fast:  They can attain speeds of 70KPH (44MPH).  One thing I know is that an ostrich is bigger than, say, a sparrow.  So the force of that earthbound avian's impact knocked that woman, I am sure, harder than the cat who ran into my front wheel in Ozone Park.

So, perhaps not surprisingly, she got hurt worse than I did:  The bird, after hobbling, toppling over and continuing on its way, left the woman with a broken wrist and a large cut on her head.

Argentine authorities haven't said what charges, if any will be leveled against the bird.  For one thing, the Argentine speed limit is 40KPH (25MPH) in residential areas and 60KPH (37MPH) in urban areas.  A review of videos could reveal whether the ostrich--which seems to have escaped from someone's home--was doing its "personal best."  Oh, and I have to wonder what Argentinian law says about leaving the scene of an accident.