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Vuelta a Burgos 2023, August 15-19

Page 13 - Get up to date with the latest news, scores & standings from the Cycling News Community.
Least possible effort. Trademark celebration. A mailman does not celebrate when he delivers the mail
This is the night mail crossing the Border,
Bringing the cheque and the postal order,

Letters for the rich, letters for the poor,
The shop at the corner, the girl next door.

Pulling up Beattock, a steady climb:
The gradient's against her, but she's on time.

Past cotton-grass and moorland boulder
Shovelling white steam over her shoulder,

Snorting noisily as she passes
Silent miles of wind-bent grasses.

Birds turn their heads as she approaches,
Stare from bushes at her blank-faced coaches.

Sheep-dogs cannot turn her course;
They slumber on with paws across.

In the farm she passes no one wakes,
But a jug in a bedroom gently shakes.


Dawn freshens, Her climb is done.
Down towards Glasgow she descends,
Towards the steam tugs yelping down a glade of cranes
Towards the fields of apparatus, the furnaces
Set on the dark plain like gigantic chessmen.
All Scotland waits for her:
In dark glens, beside pale-green lochs
Men long for news.


Letters of thanks, letters from banks,
Letters of joy from girl and boy,
Receipted bills and invitations
To inspect new stock or to visit relations,
And applications for situations,
And timid lovers' declarations,
And gossip, gossip from all the nations,
News circumstantial, news financial,
Letters with holiday snaps to enlarge in,
Letters with faces scrawled on the margin,
Letters from uncles, cousins, and aunts,
Letters to Scotland from the South of France,
Letters of condolence to Highlands and Lowlands
Written on paper of every hue,
The pink, the violet, the white and the blue,
The chatty, the catty, the boring, the adoring,
The cold and official and the heart's outpouring,
Clever, stupid, short and long,
The typed and the printed and the spelt all wrong.

Thousands are still asleep,
Dreaming of terrifying monsters
Or of friendly tea beside the band in Cranston's or Crawford's:

Asleep in working Glasgow, asleep in well-set Edinburgh,
Asleep in granite Aberdeen,
They continue their dreams,
But shall wake soon and hope for letters,
And none will hear the postman's knock
Without a quickening of the heart,
For who can bear to feel himself forgotten?
 
The difference is that Roglic has spent about five minutes on the attack this season. Pogacar had managed more with an hour to go in the first race of his season.
It's alsmost as if race selection matters.

But then I seem to recall Vingegaard being called megaboring in the Tour when he was making multiple long range attacks in the first week. Totally no bias there
 
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Reactions: Sandisfan
I’m a huge Roglic fan, but I don’t love his trend toward increasingly boring, defensive riding. Especially because he is no longer the best ITTer among GC riders. One mediocre day like in his last couple GTs and his small gains evaporate. I hope he is more aggressive in the Vuelta. He was more aggressive last year and in the Giro before he crashed. It seems to be when he is hurt/recovering or when he is in a weeklong stage race that is most defensive. But you can’t argue with his results this year.
 
I’m a huge Roglic fan, but I don’t love his trend toward increasingly boring, defensive riding. Especially because he is no longer the best ITTer among GC riders. One mediocre day like in his last couple GTs and his small gains evaporate. I hope he is more aggressive in the Vuelta. He was more aggressive last year and in the Giro before he crashed. It seems to be when he is hurt/recovering or when he is in a weeklong stage race that is most defensive. But you can’t argue with his results this year.
Yet you're arguing...
 
This is the night mail crossing the Border,
Bringing the cheque and the postal order,

Letters for the rich, letters for the poor,
The shop at the corner, the girl next door.

Pulling up Beattock, a steady climb:
The gradient's against her, but she's on time.

Past cotton-grass and moorland boulder
Shovelling white steam over her shoulder,

Snorting noisily as she passes
Silent miles of wind-bent grasses.

Birds turn their heads as she approaches,
Stare from bushes at her blank-faced coaches.

Sheep-dogs cannot turn her course;
They slumber on with paws across.

In the farm she passes no one wakes,
But a jug in a bedroom gently shakes.


Dawn freshens, Her climb is done.
Down towards Glasgow she descends,
Towards the steam tugs yelping down a glade of cranes
Towards the fields of apparatus, the furnaces
Set on the dark plain like gigantic chessmen.
All Scotland waits for her:
In dark glens, beside pale-green lochs
Men long for news.


Letters of thanks, letters from banks,
Letters of joy from girl and boy,
Receipted bills and invitations
To inspect new stock or to visit relations,
And applications for situations,
And timid lovers' declarations,
And gossip, gossip from all the nations,
News circumstantial, news financial,
Letters with holiday snaps to enlarge in,
Letters with faces scrawled on the margin,
Letters from uncles, cousins, and aunts,
Letters to Scotland from the South of France,
Letters of condolence to Highlands and Lowlands
Written on paper of every hue,
The pink, the violet, the white and the blue,
The chatty, the catty, the boring, the adoring,
The cold and official and the heart's outpouring,
Clever, stupid, short and long,
The typed and the printed and the spelt all wrong.

Thousands are still asleep,
Dreaming of terrifying monsters
Or of friendly tea beside the band in Cranston's or Crawford's:

Asleep in working Glasgow, asleep in well-set Edinburgh,
Asleep in granite Aberdeen,
They continue their dreams,
But shall wake soon and hope for letters,
And none will hear the postman's knock
Without a quickening of the heart,
For who can bear to feel himself forgotten?
Another postman here, and a cynical, modern version of this could be;

Pizza leaflets, and pants from China,
Amazon sh*te, and debt reminders,
Birthdays, Christmas, Mother's Day, Dad's,
The only times we make you glad?
 
  • Like
Reactions: Sandisfan
The big Roglic attack has been just around the corner for about a year now.

12 wins this year, can't argue with his tactics at all, getting a bit older now and winning in the most economical way possible.

But let's not pretend he's something he isn't. He's getting the most out of his current abilities whilst taking no risks and riding ultra-boring, like Geriant Thomas currently is, and that's fine, Thomas is a great rider.