I've had it up to here with the phony neo-romanticism of "epic" bike rides.
It started, as I recall it, with Rapha's monochrome marketing images of beautiful young men riding bikes and drinking black coffee in over-understated euro-chic clothing and without helmets, which spoil the look. The presentation always came with some implied or overt association with the history of pro bike racing and the heroism and torment of long hard bike rides.
The monochrome photography has become a mark of the genre. Its canonical form is film of Paris-Roubaix with soundtrack replaced by plaintive, soulful music to express the, passion and suffering, plenty of slow motion, maybe some amped-up contrast, images of muddy-faced cyclists, many of them disconsolate at the side of the road, out of the race due to a crash or equipment failure. The correspondence with Wagner or ETA Hoffmann disturbing: bombast, bogus mythology, Ach Weh, escapism and all that incoherent rot.
It quickly became—to what extent by clever engineering, I couldn't say—a lifestyle concept that rocketed to first place among cycling's self-image prototypes in the vacuum after LA's 7th.
Robert Vandermark's move to in-source the retail of Seven Cycles in the greater Boston area, The Ride Studio Cafe, has perfectly represented the neo-romantic epic cyclist lifestyle since inception. It's first website was mostly Rapaha's photos of their models drinking coffee (sadly I can't find it now that I finally want it). Whether it was a good business move or not, I have no idea, but people have flocked to it and adopted its beliefs, rituals, styles of dress and behavior, and who-knows-what else (Dennett taught us that theology is necessarily incoherent and we should not waste time trying to understand it).
Eben Weiss and Cosmo Catalano have blogged about how and why all this happened and I can't offer anything new. But I can say that I've had it up to here with this nonsense. Weiss’s first premise, it seems to me, is that you don't need to invest in or commit to any of the cycling lifestyle packages in order to be a cyclist or to enjoy it. I agree.
The image of someone, alright, a man, soulfully suffering for his passion, romantic thoughts of the greats of pro cycling's past (usually in the Coppi to Moser range, sometimes up to Kelly) in his head, independent of spirit but social when it comes to drinking coffee, Rapha clad, defiantly shunning uncool loud colors and crass commercial logos but nevertheless talking about Flanders week, is ridiculous. If this is you then you deserve our ridicule.
It's almost as stupid and worn out as the idea that a fixed gear makes you edgy, different and interesting.
I went to ride the inaugural Rasputitsa two days ago and, while it was wonderful in almost every way, two terrible mistakes almost ruined it. One was announcing that the ride would be “truly epic” while everyone was shivering their locknuts off waiting for the start. I wanted to groan as loud as possible to register my revulsion but it’s hard when your teeth are chattering.
The second mistake was the promotional video. It starts of really very well with humorous Soviet themed styling and witty text overlays. Next, to my joy, comes a splendid satire of the epic cyclist: meet the Rasputitsan, one identifying characteristic at a time. Later it cuts to a beautiful young man sipping coffee in sepia tone with a bike helmet and iPhone, a clear dig at the Rapha images of the late naughties. But suddenly I’m worried this isn’t satire. The way it goes on for another 2 minutes after it stopped being funny confirms my fear.
Other videos released after the event seal the deal. The heavy-handed digital effects and doleful guitar replete with reverb say it all.
Rasputitsa was a bike race and bike racing is, above all, colorful, fast and fun. Enjoy it, get excited, cheer and yell! There’s no need for a dirge.
So please, everyone, let’s just stop this now. Or at least, let’s stop being coy about laughing at this guff and its followers.