road cycling

I don't know quite why I love the Tour de France so much. These days I never get on a bike, and when I used to do it, I chose mountain-biking, not road-cycling. That was, until a move to the city put paid to my weekend forays into the countryside.
Picture, if you will, you're on a bike, arriving at a beachside cafe, slowing down to almost a stop, and then just tipping over. No dramatic crash, just a slow, undignified tip. Three times I did that on my first day.
It was the day I took my beloved road bike in for its fourth urgent health check in as many months that I felt it was time to make a decision I'd been avoiding for some time - I needed a better set of commuting wheels.
If Cavendish is to win, it will require a far greater performance from him and his team than the excellent one that made him world champion last year.
Training turns cycling into a job of work; something earnest, painful; it eases our guilt - and oh boy, am I guilty! My wife and I have just increased our brood of young children to three, and chamois-creaming my crotch while she's soothing the baby's nappy rash just doesn't seem right.