I spoke with an excellent friend over Skype last night, and she told me the American media have concentrated most of their coverage on basketball, beach volleyball, and Michael Phelps. I doubt NBC will air any track events, only BMX, so let me give you the lowdown on Laoshan to feed your newfound love for cycling:
British domination.
That's the last two days of competition in 17 letters. So far, the Brits have been the Michael Phelps of the velodrome, a cycling war machine thundering around the track, snatching up any medals in its path. That may sound like a stretch, but it's really not. They're making history.
Chris Hoy, aforementioned Scottish "colossus," as coined by some of the Brit press, has already won two gold medals, and will shoot for his third gold at the men's individual sprint finals. Bradley Wiggins (pictured above), endurance machine, won a gold for the individual pursuit and will go for his second gold at the team pursuit. The British have been doubling up on medals in events, including Ross Edgars, silver in keirin, Steven Burke, bronze in the individual pursuit, Rebecca Romero, gold in women's pursuit, and Wendy Houvenaghel, silver in the women's pursuit.
Any time a cyclist set an Olympic record today, the Brits, not to be outdone, would beat it. I stood in the broadcast mixed zone and watched Anna Meares from Australia set an Olympic record for the flying 200 meter just to have Victoria Pendleton make Olympic history by completing it in less than 11 seconds. Jason Kenny, the 20-year-old gold medalist from the men's team sprint, broke the Olympic record for the flying 200 meter as well. Then, of course, Chris Hoy took his turn, and broke Kenny's less-than-two-minutes-old record, and came a within a half second of beating Theo Bos' world record of 9.7-something seconds. And then (I know, there's more), the men's pursuit team broke a world record. In fact, Bradley Wiggins broke his own Olympic record for the individual pursuit yesterday. It's complete madness. I commented to a BBC camera guy, "It's a good day to be British."
The Brit training area is next to the broadcast mixed zone, so I tend to observe the team when I have downtime. Cyclists are always up on the rollers (an example of a cyclist on rollers to your left), moderate pace, then fast, fast, fast, then moderate. Then they'll get off the rollers and go around and around and around in circles in the open floor area. Sometimes a murky protein beverage will be involved post race. The support staff is always working as well, the mechanics in aprons cleaning the bikes and hanging them on racks. The best part is the coaches encouraging riders during races; they cup their hands around their mouths and bark "Hup! Hup! Hup!" I don't know exactly what they're saying, but it certainly sounds very British. But most of the time, it's just rollers, circles, track, rollers, circles, track, rollers, circles or rollers, circles, race, cool-down circles, rollers, powdered beverage.
To someone who isn't an athlete, it probably sounds monotonous typed out like that. I've been watching the same activities for a week, but to me, it's not monotonous at all. It's inspiring. The Olympics seemingly pop up out of nowhere every couple years, and then, surprise, there's ultra-talented athletes ready to compete. People tend to forget about the preparation; those athletes are spending thousands of hours to get ready for that one race, the cyclists going around and around in circles or the swimmers doing lap after lap. Watching the process really drives home the idea that no matter what you do, you must bust your butt to achieve great things. Succeeding isn't quick like a "Rocky" movie training montage, it takes hours, weeks, years. I sound like one of those inspirational person-running-up-a-mountain posters, but watching the teams practice and compete at the velodrome has showed me only a piece of the dedication that hundreds of teams put into the Olympic Games. Amazing.
All of the dedication I've witnessed also makes the Games a little more heartbreaking as well. I'll be honest, I was bummed when Shane Kelly didn't medal. For those who don't follow cycling: He's a 36-year-old, world championship-winning, record-holding, five-time Olympic veteran from Australia who has won silver and bronze before, but never gold. He's come excruciatingly close. Many journalists still ask questions about the time in Atlanta when his foot slipped from the pedal at the start of a race he was set to win. Kelly took the time to do a quickie interview after a training session last week; he gave me a lot of good material and was a genuinely nice guy. I wrote a "last shot at gold" story for the news service, because this was his final Olympics before retiring from the international cycling scene. He competed in the keirin, one of my favorites, a race in which anything can happen: A herd of cyclists follow behind a progressively accelerating derny (motorbike) for several laps, the scooter takes off, and then the riders sprint, cutting each other off, boxing each other in, pulling ahead, sneaking up, just craziness, to the finish. I don't show preference for any riders while I'm in the mixed zone, meaning no cheering or clapping or reacting emotionally to specific teams, but my eyes were bugging out of my head from trying to keep the adrenaline under control while I watched the riders jostle around the track. Toward the end, however, my heart sank a little. Much to my discontent, Kelly finished fourth. That being said, he gave it a fantastic run. After the race, Ross Edgars, the bronze medalist, made several comments about having to fend Kelly off.
So I say cheers to Shane Kelly and his accomplished cycling career, with or without Olympic gold. And that is that.
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