Phil Gaimon's Pro Cycling on $10 A Day Reviewed

 Like all hybrid evolutionary creatures who love books and bikes, I live vicariously through the words of the published athlete.  It seems every winter my collection of books spikes by 3-4 ebooks, and without fail over the past four years they've all been related to some kind of endurance sport.  Most recently, it's been Phil Gaimon's Pro Cycling on $10 A Day.

   Now, I've seen this text around for a while but held off buying it because of its cheeky tone.  I didn't want satirical tripe: I wanted meaty reflections on the sweat and the glory of the peloton; I wanted exceptionally vivid depictions of the struggle to attain the elite level of multisport; I wanted the adventure - something I could read and think, "Man - if only I'd had that drive at such a stage in my life.  I, too, could have gone somewhere interesting and been something important."  For, as everyone knows, the life of the age-group athlete means little compared to that of a professional.

  Then, in the fullness of time, I'd consumed several of the major biographical writings of today's popular endurance athletes: Jurek, Karnazes, Macca, Wellington, Armstrong, Millar, Hamilton, Wiggins, Froome, Hincapie.  I'd also gone through most of the contemporary critical journalism about these figures as well.  At last it seemed inevitable: I must read Gaimon's book.

  I should start by saying I was both right and wrong about this book.  Right inasmuch as it was generally irreverent and lacked the sense of robust experience behind its reflections.  Wrong insofar as Gaimon's flippancy was one of the book's greatest charms.  I think this makes sense given that Gaimon doesn't have quite as lengthy a career to reflect on in the book as some others who've taken to autobiography.  But with some luck and lots of work, he may stick around to offer us a deeper, more incisive view of the European peloton on his way out of the industry.

  The irreverence, the tongue in cheek, the satire all contour into the meditations on the hardships of the US pro circuit in such a way as to render Gaimon's reflections on the life of a pro cyclist freshly iconoclastic.  The snide criticism blended with his vivid descriptions of the debased living many elite amateurs endure on the road towards a professional contract.

  But most interesting to me was Gaimon's literary training, for I, too, had majored in English.  Of all the memoirs I've read, this one most severely taunted me with its seductive whisper: "You could have struggled, as Phil did, to find the pro circuit."  But for the subtle twist of fate that saw most of my collegiate years swallowed up chasing a doomed romance (and the fact that I hadn't seriously pedaled a bike in years), I could have done so!  I know I could have!

  Two things stood out to me about this book: the witty summary of many and various instances of the impecunious cyclist barely scraping by, coupled with a refreshing industriousness.  The fact that Gaimon managed to coordinate, if not fully run, a cycling apparel company while at the same time saving for and purchasing a house - all while having made less than 35k a year, is impressive.  And some of the images stay with you after the read: the grotesquely masculine female elite road racer who beat Phil to the top of a hill, who was so doped up "she had a beard on her penis"; the plebeian sagacity of "get[ting] in your fucking car"; and the latent attitude that the tide is turning against unethical competitive practice in this wonderful sport.

  In all, well worth the rupees and the time to gobble it up.  I missed the boat, the exit, the memo (to offer an assorted bag of metaphor) to make my tardy dream of elite endurance sports a reality.  But Reading a book like Gaimon's is one of the next best things if you missed the break.