As we get closer to Christmas, here is a little poem (based on another of a similar, but different name):
T'was the Bike Before Christmas By [email protected] (AKA David Ellis)
T'was the night before Christmas, when all through the house not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The bikes were all hung in the basement with care All stored for the winter, with nobody there
The children were finally all snug and asleep, It's Zwift time for us, and then chocolate treats.
We're both in our lycra and all set to go And just had started watching the GCN show.
When out on the roof there arose such a clatter, I jumped off my bike to see what's the matter.
Away to the window, looking up to the Sky, It wasn't Sir Bradley …. it looked more like Si.
Looking much closer, it wasn't something I knew While riding their bikes, I could swear that they flew,
And as they came closer. it gave me a fright ... a miniature sleigh, drawn by elves on their bikes .
With a familiar old driver, this must be a quirk 'cause my eyes were a'saying, it must be Merckx !
More rapid than Ganna, the peloton they came, and he whistled and shouted and called them by name: Now De Rosa !, now BIXXIS ! Now Argon and Cervelo ! Now, Dogma! and Colnago ! Now Campy !, now Shimano !
As from the top of the track They flew down the banking ! Straight to the house ! All clicking and clanking !
Like riders are dropped, when Pogačar rides by, More watts than are human, making them fly
So up to the house-top the riders all flew, riding road and some gravel, and a fixie or two.
I knew in a twinkling, we all were to soon meet 'cause the sound that I heard, was that of his cleats.
As I drew in my head and was turning around, down the chimney 'Pog' came, all with a bound.
He was dressed all in lycra, so cool that he rocks His kit was all aero, including his socks !
And bundles of toys he had flung on his back, just like a gravel biker, just opening their pack.
His eyes--how they twinkled! Just like he had won regardless of the gifts weighing down by the tonne!
His musette was still with him, a water bottle in hand with all the presents he had gathered, before he did land
The water bottle now tightly, he held with his teeth While presents he laid out, in the shape of a wreath.
The elves that rode with him, were dressed all the same, I knew all their faces and I knew them by name.
All were past winners, yellow jerseys them all No wonder the speed, and no one did fall
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, and filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk.
And then taking his bottle, offering it out in his hand He smiled as I took it, as he knew I was a fan He sprang on his bike, and radioed his team And away they all flew, so effortless it seemed .
But I heard him exclaim, 'ere he rode out of sight, "Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good bike!
As we get closer to Christmas, here is a little poem (based on another of a similar, but different name):
T'was the Bike Before Christmas
By [email protected] (AKA David Ellis)
T'was the night before Christmas, when all through the house
not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The bikes were all hung in the basement with care All stored for the winter, with nobody there
The children were finally all snug and asleep, It's Zwift time for us, and then chocolate treats.
We're both in our lycra and all set to go And just had started watching the GCN show.
When out on the roof there arose such a clatter,
I jumped off my bike to see what's the matter.
Away to the window, looking up to the Sky, It wasn't Sir Bradley …. it looked more like Si.
Looking much closer, it wasn't something I knew While riding their bikes, I could swear that they flew,
And as they came closer. it gave me a fright ...
a miniature sleigh, drawn by elves on their bikes .
With a familiar old driver, this must be a quirk 'cause my eyes were a'saying, it must be Merckx !
More rapid than Ganna, the peloton they came, and he whistled and shouted and called them by name:
Now De Rosa !, now BIXXIS ! Now Argon and Cervelo ! Now, Dogma! and Colnago ! Now Campy !, now Shimano !
As from the top of the track
They flew down the banking ! Straight to the house !
All clicking and clanking !
Like riders are dropped, when Pogačar rides by, More watts than are human, making them fly
So up to the house-top the riders all flew,
riding road and some gravel, and a fixie or two.
I knew in a twinkling, we all were to soon meet
'cause the sound that I heard, was that of his cleats.
As I drew in my head and was turning around, down the chimney 'Pog' came, all with a bound.
He was dressed all in lycra, so cool that he rocks
His kit was all aero, including his socks !
And bundles of toys he had flung on his back,
just like a gravel biker, just opening their pack.
His eyes--how they twinkled! Just like he had won regardless of the gifts weighing down by the tonne!
His musette was still with him, a water bottle in hand with all the presents he had gathered, before he did land
The water bottle now tightly, he held with his teeth While presents he laid out, in the shape of a wreath.
The elves that rode with him, were dressed all the same,
I knew all their faces and I knew them by name.
All were past winners, yellow jerseys them all No wonder the speed, and no one did fall
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
and filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk.
And then taking his bottle, offering it out in his hand He smiled as I took it, as he knew I was a fan
He sprang on his bike, and radioed his team
And away they all flew, so effortless it seemed .
But I heard him exclaim, 'ere he rode out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good bike!