Simon Spilsbury's Ode to BDOVELO

The room is full of men of means
Procured they say from counting beans
But with liquidity comes excess cash
A lot of which you like to splash

On Rapha, Bianchi, Cervelo, Trek
A Pinarello, what the heck
A spanking S-Works Specialized
That will open envious eyes

Never once will you stop to count
Until you finally dismount
You’ll spend and spend on your new drug
Yes....you’ve caught the cycling bug

Posters hang around your room
Of Thomas, Wiggins, Cav and Froome
You’ve seen them riding on the telly
And you want to lose that little belly

Post Google search you head out shopping
A lot of cash you will be dropping
The wheels, the Lycra....all the kit
“But first Sir, you’ll need a full bike fit”

They measure all your pressure points
Your wrists, yours hips, your spine, your joints
An angle of 38 degrees
Minimises damage to your knees

During saddle-pressure analysis
You’re told your balls are on the piss
He aligns your hips and says that’s fine
Then compliments your bottom line

All this shopping goes to your head
A polyester onesie spandex red
A multi tool, a Wahoo Kickr
Some Black Shadow glasses will make you slicker

To guard against sore-arse hell
You buy some pants filled with gel
A lazerlight, a GoPro and yes...
You buy a bloody GPS

The salesman says “To keep you sweet
I’ll throw in a freebie tube of deep heat
Despite Merino socks.. and all the warnings
Your feet go numb on winter mornings

You head for home with all your stuff
8 grand down, “Have I bought enough?”
A little fraught, you’ll be be caught for certain
If your wife is looking thru the curtain

Your mind is heading to the attic
Where you have a bike that’s static
It whirs and whines the more you tread
Til calves and quads feel just like lead

But it definitely isn’t time for bed
There’s a 50 miler in your head
Your sweating buckets, feeling rough
But your Lycra’s just not bulging enough

7.00am, 30 miles from home
You arrive in style in Marylebone
You’re bulging in the strangest places
Embarrassing reception faces

Your belly’s still fat, your arse is flat
You spunked 500 quid on the wrong bloody hat
You bought stuff that you didn’t need
You shaved your legs for extra speed

You’re conscious you haven’t had a shower
As you walk the corridors of power
But you don’t care cos you’re full of pride
Desperate to tell of the morning’s ride

Your temporary cycling dream
Is put on hold for the Leadership Team
But you’ve done it, you’ve passed the cycling test
You hope 12-bikes Grove will be impressed

Ad Augusta per Angusta
With all the strength you can muster
Chris Grove’s words you dare not chide
You CAN do business....and ride

At lunch you search your first Sportive
Your first Gran Fondo, to France you’ll leave
The Etape Du Tour in the Pyrenees
That’ll test your rusty knees

Fast forward to the start line of your first big ride
You bulge in Lycra, burst with pride
You’re ready for the grind and sweating litres
But you’re undone by the climb of 5000 metres

The French are jeering racist rants
You’ve thrown up twice, you’ve pissed your pants
Your cycling dream has gone askew
You’ve bitten off more than you could chew

After spending all that hard-earned cash
Like money markets, you eventually crash
You crawl home to Blighty, rather shaken
Covered in gravel rash or ‘in cycling parlance’ BACON

Though a growing sport where many clamour
Dedicated cycling’s not all glamour
The freaking lactic acid pain
The driven snow, the driving rain

The flies in eyes, the fizzy thumbs
The cricked neck, the numbing bums
The lethal drains, the hanging brambles
The British roads are a bloody shambles

Keeping up is a bloody palaver
Charting conquests on an app called Strava
Sucking on gels messes with your guts
Spreading Sudocreme all over your nuts

After 100 miles you feel the worth
Despite feeling like you’ve given birth
Your body’s spent, your breath is sparse....
The hair’s all knotted up your arse

You peel off the Lycra and drop it by the machine
For a wife, a husband or au pair to clean
We must spare a thought for those who launder
The cycling shorts of Charlie Maunder

You can barely walk, you feel a fail
Your willy resembles a shrivelled snail
But remember you’ve begun a winning behaviour
To replace the reckless nightclub raver

Cycling will give you....as I’m your witness
Increased cardiovascular fitness
Muscle strength and flexibility
Much improved joint mobility

Decreased stress levels, strengthened bones
Sexy legs......Graham Jones
Prevention and management of disease
And many other things that please

Keeping fit is no mean feat
So please keep cycling to the beat
You all deserve to wear a halo
Vive La Club BDOVELO

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