The Domestique Partner is an anonymous columnist who is writing about the experience of being a pro cyclist’s better half. Follow along this season to learn about what it’s like to live on the other side of the barriers.
Ahh, the off-season. The autumn siesta. A return to what you might think of as normal, though it doesn’t feel so normal to me anymore.
It’s always an interesting feeling to return home. And a bit odd, too. This year I returned before my partner, so I had a few weeks on my own to readjust. Generally this means lots of questions about how his season has been and few questions about anything else. C’est la vie.
The actual “off-season” in the pro cycling world is generally 3-4 weeks off the bike. Then training starts again. This time period can vary depending on the last races of the season (some guys finish at the Vuelta!) and when the next season begins, ranging from January to March. If they get the call-up for Tour Down Under, training gets started again in a hurry.
What isn’t off-season? It isn’t three months of beach-side cabanas or skiing adventures. (Generally, alpine holidays will be cycling.) It’s just a few short weeks before training kicks in again, and in a big way. Stop, reset, restart, relaunch.
Alongside our pro partners, it’s our time to stop, reset, and prepare to launch again. Three to four precious weeks of pampering time. No making special lunches. No worrying about getting enough sleep. We get to rule our world for this small amount of time and, oh my, does it feel fantastic.
So this year, I am thinking:
1. Decadent, super fatty, butter, bacon, cream, and everything else bad filled dinners. No guilt. Gluten. All the Gluten.
2. Late night cocktails and beer. And then staying up way too late and accepting the hangover.
3. A long walk! Long walks with my man for the one time he isn’t told to “put his legs up.”
4. Something dangerous. Like four wheeling or bungee jumping. Sky diving one year but not this one.
5. Not constantly worrying about getting sick. Lets catch a cold and fester in it. If I catch a cold, I won’t be forced to sleep on the couch. And I can wallow and tell my man to make me some chicken soup and load up some Netflix.
This plan probably sounds way more exciting to me than to most people. It’s pretty normal stuff, but not for us. Off-season is our small slice of paradise, once a year, before it returns to our normal, which isn’t so normal.
I made it back to the home country for a few short months and basked in the embrace of a populous that speaks my language. What a luxury. Alas, returning home can sometimes remind you of how much you’ve changed. I walked into a cafe at home and tried to order a doppio espresso, receiving only a strange look. Adjusting to portion sizes, well, sizes of everything, is always hard. The difference in the sheer width of the roads, the size of the cars, and what qualifies as a “small” or “large” coffee. Maybe Starbucks had it right when they called their small a “tall.” It’s accurate by worldwide standards.
Soon I’ll put him back on a plane to team camp and the pre-season races, and in sending him off I’ll begin the nine-month wait for our next seasonal siesta — our return to a normal that doesn’t feel so normal anymore.
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