CARREFOUR
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PELOTONMAGAZINE.COM
home do not identify with
the race. The area itself is
barely worth the visit on its
own. You won’t see people just
merrily riding up and down
the cobbles of Paris-Roubaix
for fun. You will see every
character imaginable riding
the Koppenberg though. Paris-Roubaix is a stern, ominous
test, and yet to succeed, it’s a
test the rider must love.
They’re so bad, they’re so
indescribably painful, the
only way to succeed over
them is with brute power
and a love for the ardors
you’ve enlisted yourself to
endure. The cobbles take on
a different look when you fall
in love with them. They can’t
be mastered mechanically
(except for Hinault, he hated
them and still won on them,
but he doesn’t count). You
have to want them, you
have to look forward to
them, and to do that, you
have to love the cobbles.
With every love, there’s that
fateful moment where you fall
in. For me, it was on a sunny
late afternoon Sunday in April,
sitting on the already forgotten
stones in Cysoing, less than
twenty minutes after the final
rider had passed. ]p[
