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| yes, I've actually seen people riding around before like this (sans frame number, of course) |
When I entered the world of amateur competitive cycling I never knew there were so many unwritten rules. I came from an endurance running background where everyone wore short shorts and Dri-Fit shirts. You wore whatever shoes fit you and your running style, regardless of color. Respect was earned based on the hours you put in and who crossed the finish line first. Nothing else.
As most of you reading this will already know, the world of cycling is totally different. Just look around pack of Cat 5s. You'll see a field full of $6k, 14 lbs. carbon bikes on top of $2k carbon tubular wheels, being piloted by a rider in $500 white shoes. I thought this was the norm. I thought this is what you needed in order be a racer, even a beginning one.
I couldn't have been more wrong.
Just look at the racers who others call 'PRO' today. You'll see these individuals clad in $250 merino wool jerseys, white helmets, glasses that don't fit their faces-yet are worn simply for that big letter on the side and white shoes that have never seen the rain or dust. Don't get me wrong, if you have the thousands to spend on awesome clothing and equipment by all means go for it. Now take these riders with all the schwanky equipment; look at their legs. That's what I thought.
Over the past year year I've come to realize something: Who cares how good you look if you can't back it up with your legs? Instead of carbon I ride aluminum bikes now. My clothing has transitioned from the white super-pro look to the more sensible hide-all black. My bar tape is black and I train on reliable, non-name brand aluminum clinchers. Yes, I am truly un-PRO. But is white bar tape, sparkly white shoes and carbon bikes all cycling is about?
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| yes, he is a professional but by no means PRO in my book |
Today, I define PRO as more of a mindset and attitude, rather than something you strap on or click into before a ride. To me, you can't buy PRO, you have to earn it; yet you can't earn it by wanting it. To me, PRO is the rider out there all winter putting in the solo six hour rides in the rain and sleet. PRO is the rider who trains in mis-matched clothing because it works, not because it looks the best. PRO is the rider who slows to check on someone on the side of the road. PRO is the rider who offers a gel, bottle, or push to another because they know that person is suffering. PRO is the rider who can ride at the front AND the back of the pack for an entire group ride. PRO is the rider who looks out for the little guy because they were there once too. PRO is the rider who spends their money on travelling to bigger/faster races, rather than on gear. PRO is the rider who listens to their body, knows exactly when to push it, and more importantly, when to rest. PRO is the rider who fights for 61st place, knowing they won't (or can't) go home happy without knowing they left everything out on the course that day.
The other day a friend asked me "why do you race?" For some reason I really had to think about this one. I'd responded something about it being fun, promoting sponsors and passing on the knowledge others had given me. While that's true I now know the real answer to that question: I want to be just like the people I consider PRO. Not only from a cycling perspective, but also from a lifestyle one.
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| this man fits every definition of PRO you could every think of (Lincoln Barbur photo) |
The individual laying on the ground is by far one of the most PRO people I have ever met.
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| (PDX Cross photo; Barton Park) |
The true mark of a PRO: they would never call themselves that.
If you have the time, this is a very related post by one of my PRO heroes.
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