Bike Fit of Yore

I found this post from La Rueda Tropical blog interesting enough to re-blog it. Looking at modern race bikes with their ass over elbow saddle positioning I would of thought there would be more difference in position between a rider of yore such as Coppi and a legend in the making, Contador, but surprisingly this isn’t so. Check it out.

While you’re there, check out those sweet pictures of all the Terraferma frames posted on the site. mmmm.

Hard Men with Soft Bellies of Cycling’s Past

Henri Pépin

Henri Pépin. Hard Man with a Soft Belly.

In the early days, like now, the Tour de France was an event for hard men. In many ways, perhaps harder than now. Stages were longer, upwards of 300 kilometers, surpassing 400 at times. Roads were unpaved. Some, mere dirt paths in the mountains. The riders were not allowed to change bicycles or receive outside help of any kind. Bicycles were heavier and gears fixed. Stages were often begun in the middle of the night so riders had time to finish the next day.

Enter our hero.

After dropping out after the seventh stage in 1905, Henri Pépin must have done some thinking. Perhaps he thought long and hard about his chances of realistically competing with the likes of Trousselier, Georget or Faber. Perhaps the pain of seven stages of grueling, near inhuman racing burned an indelible memory upon his soul. Would he quit? Hell no. Would he compete? Well… no. Would he ride the 1907 Tour de France in style and pleasure? Hell yes.

Hiring two professionals, Jean Dargassies and Henri Gaubon, to accompany and assist him, Pépin promised to pay them more than if they won the tour. How could they resist? His plan was to enjoy gourmet lunches, sumptuous dinners and nights in the best hotels. If he couldn’t win the tour then he might as well enjoy it in grand style.

Beginning the first stage, Team Pépin set off a bit late as their leader was busy flirting with the ladies. Blowing kisses and tipping his hat, he announced, “Let us depart. But remember. We have all the time in the world.” And his leisurely tour began.

Singing songs and waving, our heroes took their time finishing the stages. Lunches were devoured, dinners were savored and wine flowed. Along the way, the crowds adoration and time keepers anger grew. In those days there were no cutoff times. Pépin and his cohorts finished the second stage more than twelve hours after the winner.

Coming across an exhausted and finished rider, Pépin ordered his men to help him out of the ditch he was lying in and invited him along. Why let hunger ruin a tour? Pépin rushed the man to the nearest inn where his hunger was vanquished, his bravery restored and the three were now four.

Journalists somehow got it in their head he was royalty and began writing of the “Baron Henri Pépin de Gontaud”. The convenient confusion evidently stemmed from the regal sounding “Henri Pépin de Gontaud” stamped on his trunk of belongings. Rather than hinting at any blue blood in those post revolutionary days, the stamp simply meant he was from Gontaud. No matter. A baron was born.

Somewhere during the fifth stage, Pépin decided he’d had enough. He paid his teammates the promised amount and caught the train back to Gontaud. Dargassies also decided to hop the train, dropping out of his last Tour, leaving only Gaubon to ride on.

Pépin would return to the Tour de France in 1914 only to drop out and die shortly thereafter. The cause of death listed as “athleticism”… As for Jean Dargassies and Henri Gaubon? They would enter history as cycling’s first domestiques, though the coinage of the word would be saved until 1911. But that, as they say, is another story for another day…

Sources:

The Story of the Tour de France. Volume 1. 1903 – 1964. By Bill and Carol McGann

Wikipedia – Henri Pépin

Heroes of Cycling’s Past. Velocio.

The man who inspired practically the whole of France to take up cycling, Paul de Vivie extolled the virtues of cycling by word, print and deed. His love of cycling and France’s desire for two wheeled freedom collided to create the sport of cyclo-touring with his publication Le Cycliste as his mouthpiece. Known for riding 40 hours at a stretch, he rode for the love of riding. 350 miles in 32 hours. 400 in 48.  He owned a bike shop, imported bikes, designed bikes, conceived the derailleur, and rode on into his 50’s, 60’s and 70’s stopped only by death itself, his life cut short by a streetcar accident. For all those who desire to ride far but race not, there is Velocio.

From an article by Clifford Graves M.D.:

“This gradual emergence of Velocio as a dominant figure, not only among cyclists but among the people of his age, is one of the most interesting things about the man because he never made a conscious attempt to attract public notice. All he wanted was his bicycle and his friends. He never moved his shop, he never had much money, and he never rested on his laurels. Twice a year, he would have a little notice in Le Cycliste, inviting all and sundry to a rally. These rallies became famous. At first strictly local affairs, they eventually became national institutions and some of them are still observed, such as the Easter gathering in Provence. Velocio himself was not aware of his stature until he was invited to appear in Paris in the Criterium des Vieilles Gloires when he was seventy-six. Then it was obvious that he completely over-shadowed all the others. Thousands gathered around him, just to shake his hand and wish him well.”

His Seven Commandments of Cycling

1. Make your stops short and infrequent, so as not to lose your drive.

2. Eat lightly and often. Eat before you’re hungry, drink before you’re thirsty.

3. Never ride until you are so tired that you cannot eat or sleep.

4. Put on extra clothing before you’re cold, and take it off before you’re hot. Don’t be afraid of exposing your skin to the sun, air and rain.

5. Don’t drink wine, eat meat, or smoke, or at any rate while in the saddle.

6. Never rush things. Ride within yourself, particularly during the first few hours of a ride when you feel strong and are tempted to force the pace.

7. Never pedal out of vanity.

In His Own Words.

“Every cyclist between twenty and sixty in good health can ride 130 miles in a day with 600 feet of climbing, provided he eats properly and provided he has the proper bicycle.”

“…people do not realize that vigorous riding impels the senses. Perception is sharpened, impressions are heightened, blood circulates faster, and the brain functions better. I can still vividly remember the smallest details of tours of many years ago. Hypnotized? It is the traveler in a train of car who is hypnotized.’

“After a long day on my bicycle, I feel refreshed, cleansed, purified. I feel that I have established contact with my environment and that I am at peace. On days like that I am permeated with a profound gratitude for my bicycle.”

“There were two of us on a fine day in May. We started in the sunshine and stripped to the waist. Halfway, clouds enveloped us and the temperature tumbled. Gradually it got colder and wetter, but we did not notice it. In fact, it heightened our pleasure. We did not bother to put on our jackets or our capes, and we arrived at the little hotel at the top with rivulets of rain and sweat running down our sides. I tingled from top to bottom.”

Heroes of Cycling’s Past. Eugene Christophe.

Eugene Christophe

“I was weeping so badly that I couldn’t see anything.” ~ Eugene Christophe

Today’s Tour de France stage climbs the Col du Tourmalet taking us back to 1913 and Eugene Cristophe’s heroism and perseverance on the legendary mountain.

Entering the race as the tour favorite, Christophe was proving the odds right as he began the day. His Peugeot team set a blistering pace, dropping their rivals as they arrived at the foot of the climb. Halfway up, the Belgian, Phillipe Thys was the closest racer, following Christophe at a few hundred meters distance.

Unfortunately, Christophe had an accident resulting in a broken fork. Weeping, he set off on foot, carrying his bike, walking eight and a half miles to Sainte-Marie-de-Campan where he found a blacksmith’s forge. Not allowed to accept help from outsiders, Christophe built himself another fork and finished the stage within the time limit. The race officials assessed a ten minute time penalty. Christophe had allowed a seven year old boy to work the bellows on the forge.

Christophe went on to finish seventh in Paris.

Here’s to you, Christophe. A true hero of cycling’s past.

Nearly Forgotten Heroes of Cycling’s Past.

Nelson Vails

For a time, in my youth, before the distractions that would come later, I rode a cheap lugged steel racing bike and followed the exploits of a man named Nelson Vails.

Picture from Dave Moulton’s Bike Blog.