Joe Lewis: Cycling Tribe Blog 2

Be nice to hubbards, you were once one too.

I love my job., racing my bike for a living, being paid to travel to far away countries to do something you love. Like every young cyclist, I want to make it to the top. Race the classics and the Tour de France, typical stuff.

Now, while I’m not yet competing at that level, it still feels pretty cool to be able to turn up to a race in France or Belgium and have people ask for your autograph, or have hundreds of people watching on the sidelines as you race a pro-criterium in Holland.

It’s hard not to let this stuff go to your head, lets be honest, anyone who’s reading this that has ever succeeded at something, whether it be sport, school or just life in general, when you win at something (or even do well) you feel pretty good about yourself? Right? You puff your chest up with pride and walk around for a little bit thinking you’re invincible? I know I do. Sometime I have to take a step back and remember where I came from and the people that have helped me along the way.

Recently I visited my local cycling club, Kooragang Open CC. This 8.2km industrial island circuit is where in my formative years as a cyclist I was shaped and learnt a lot of what I know about cycling, (not that I’m by any means an expert).

Often when I go back there people show me photo’s they have taken of them  racing in years gone by, particularly ones with me in them, racing in a lower grade. I cringe at these photos, plain black nix, mix and match jersey. I look like a Hubbard!

A Hubbard is something all aspiring cyclists endeavour not to be, but at some point in their life probably were. I don’t know one cyclist who I would believe if they told me they’ve never worn non-matching kit, ridden with hairy legs, or worn a baggy jersey in the past sometime. I’m sure even the big pro’s have junior photos stowed away (very securely) at their parents place somewhere.

It’s these photos that help me appreciate getting into the same sponsored kit every day. They help me remember that there isn’t only an A grade in cycling.

Before I go any further I would like to declare that I only refer to hubbards in the most affectionate of terms. My own father, whom I love dearly, is a hubbard and regularly dresses in a mix of my old jerseys and plain black nix and meanders off on a ride in the local hills. Hubbard is by no means a derogatory term and should not be used as such.

No matter how good you are now, you’re going to be a hubbard again someday. And I know when I’m old and racing the local Saturday handicap off limit and a snooty ‘A grader’ pushes in front of me in the line to get a post race coke, Ill make sure I ride in front of him on the ride home, and Ill make sure I wear my worn out see through black nix to bring him back down to earth.

So rather than looking down on hubbards, rather than sticking your nose in the air when someone mentions that they ride anything but A grade, embrace hubbards and their hubbardry! Without them, there would be no ‘Elite’.

Until next time, rubber side down.