It is not the critic who counts: not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles or where the doer of deeds could have done better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly, who errs and comes up short again and again, because there is no effort without error or shortcoming, but who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions, who spends himself for a worthy cause; who, at the best, knows, in the end, the triumph of high achievement, and who, at the worst, if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who knew neither victory nor defeat.

Theodore Roosevelt
“Citizenship in a Republic,”
Speech at the Sorbonne, Paris, April 23, 1910

http://www.theodoreroosevelt.org/life/quotes.htm.

Mynewfavouritebike.

At this time of year usually I am suffering through infernally hot and humid summers, wondering what I'm going to to with six weeks off. Not so this year, but I am watching other people do so.

Last year I discovered The Tour. The Tour de France. I'd always been aware of this race (what cyclist could ever be ignorant of this one?), but never been a watcher until 2010. Perhaps it was the sets of skinny tyres lying about. Perhaps it was the shiny new bike they went on. Possibly it was my friends' influences, combined with the free time, but I became a Le Tour junkie. I watched every day. Then I went out riding, pretending I was one of them. How's that for a 35 year-old?

So, it's tour time again, and I am dreaming of shaved legs, tight lycra and skinny tyres. All my own way, of course, which brings me to the point of this post; I found my ultimate "It's July, let the roadie out of the closet" bike:

To whoever created this: BRAVO!