Less and less am I finding myself engaged in stories around pro cycling. The drugs, the cheating, the robotic tactics and the lies. It gets crazy tiresome, and for the largest part I just can’t be bothered anymore. I find it harder and harder to trust race results, and the romance has gone. There are only brief glimmers of hope that shine through:
- Whenever Peter Sagan does anything. Anything at all. He could tie his shoes and I would happily live stream that shit.
- Whenever Esteban Chavez wins anything. I just want to cuddle that kid – sweetest guy in all of cycling.
- Paris Roubaix.