Transferring the demands of distance running to cycling is natural progression
Tolerance of pain is what marks outthe greats and willingness to suffer is the key to making the grade
Shay Elliot Memorial in the Wicklow Mountains with the yellow jersey he wore in his Tour de France stage victory. Photograph: Billy Stickland/Inpho
The worst thing about owning an Alfa Romeo Spider is the occasionally irresistible urge to take the long way home. Especially this time of year.
Wednesday presented one of those occasions, an evening sent straight from heaven, the hood down, the gentle roar under the bonnet, over the richly empurpled Featherbeds sprinkled white with bog cotton, through the golden-fleeced gorse onto the Sallygap, into the sweet blooming ferns, like a jungle, only in miniature, down along the jasmine-scented Glenmacnass, deep into the miracle of growth that is the Garden of Ireland.
The second worst thing about owning an Alfa Romeo Spider is that it does occasionally stop to be admired. Especially when least expected. Thursday presented one of those occasions, still on the outskirts of town, and so onto the dropped handlebars of my racing bike, into the warm drizzling rain and back roads skirting Djouce, and again the irresistible urge to take the long way home, this time through Laragh towards the sheltering Glenmalure, the magnificent pink foxglove sprouting from the roadside, inspiring one last detour and a perfectly timed salute to Shay Elliott.
It could be just the softness of aging, or that every little thing is brilliantly illuminated by the rhapsody and rhythms of the pedal stroke, but now more than ever cycling comes easier than running ever did – and that’s probably because it is. The two-wheeled tour about to unwind in France over the next three weeks may claim to be toughest race on earth, and yet there is an element and economy of cycling which reduces any perceptible distance, and allows us all to think “I can do this”.
Jerry Kiernan got himself into all sorts of bother a while ago, and rightly so, when comparing the fitness of Gaelic footballers and hurlers with that of distance runners. There might be only one winner in that race to the top of the hill, but it was like comparing the fighting qualities of a shark and a lion.
The GAA attracts a different breed, a different realm of fitness: distance runners and cyclists, however, are cut from the same string of DNA, one which proliferates skin and bone, an enormous lung capacity, and willingness to embrace pain, the “majorly suffering” that Seán Kelly still comments on.
That Elliott became the first Irish cyclist to wear the yellow jersey, 50 years ago this week, was of no surprise to anyone who knew him.
The French cycling press identified him as “soaked with class”, and Elliott nurtured his instincts on the same stretches of the Wicklow Mountains that would later serve Stephen Roche even better again. What made his death so tragic, at age 36, in 1971, and almost certainly by his own hand, was that Elliott was still able to ride effortlessly over those hills, and cycling will always accommodate that.