Opperman on retirement

Opperman on retirement
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In his autobiography "Pedals Politics and People" Sir Hubert Opperman sets out eloquently his feelings at the time of his retirement from competitive cycling.

"…grudging with its returns, giving back exactly what one spends in energy and not one inch more. A road lifts skyward and then dips, and a rider free-wheels into a pace which can be as fast in the twentieth hour as in the first. Mentally and physically, this can refresh without cost. But, in the doldrums of track toil, there is no change of action, unless there is a sacrifice of distance by riding the rails, and swooping from bank into straight. Bruce brought an atomiser to the track side. With a serpent' s hiss, it sprayed a glorious, misty mixture of eau de cologne, oxygen and water through which I rode and which clipped off a second a lap. I hoped for the comeback during those dreary laps, to the facile pedalling period which we expect on the road, but this oasis of vigour was buried in humidity and the tedious similarity of the wooden bowl. Je suis mort, I murmured to Francis Faure, the French sprinter when he arrived at 11 a.m. 'I am dead," I told my wife at 5 p.m. and meant it. Only the atomiser, cool drinks, icy bidons of water over my sweater, the applause for tumbling records, and martial tunes on the public address roused me from blank-brained pedalling. But, as Shakespeare said so knowledgeably, "Time and the hour runs through the roughest day." At 7.00 p.m., with cooler air and a packed arena, the spring of energy bubbled up once more and I returned to the sparkle of the earlier hours with a lead of 5 1 miles in the total of 4 8 9. I was not to sense, as I slipped off the saddle for the first time since the commencement, it was the last record attempt and the end of my cycling career.

Nor could I be aware it was also the end of an era for Australia, politically, economically, industrially and nationally. No longer did men envy the bicycle as an aristocrat of transport, when they walked between Sydney and Melbourne looking for work. The Services and the factories were looking for them. I returned to Melbourne, and in the months which followed, began to train again for the ultimate of a Cairns-to-Brisbane or Darwin-to-Melbourne, in long range preparation for America's coast-to-coast record. The preliminaries were in hand, Hollywood showed interest and American and United Kingdom investment was available to launch against the local dreadnoughts a lightweight bicycle, proved by performance to be equally strong, and more sensible to ride. Whatever the attraction of this future, my heart was not in accord with my legs. Each day I was passed by motor vehicles filled with waving Navy, Army and Air Force personnel en route to Crib Point, Balcombe and Somers. My exertions for results in sport suddenly felt so futile and unwarranted compared with national needs. Every day for a week I turned back from training, devoid of ambition to pedal or be publicised as a pedaller. It was a miserable period, wrestling against a personal desire which would disturb our family life and cancel commercial plans. Finally, I faced Mavys and said, "I intend to enlist." There are some moments of instant recall from domestic life to which one still pays wondering reverence and respect. She cried a little, hugged Carole, but with the background of an Anzac father, two A.I.F. brothers, and the stiffening of Scottish stock, duty and character responded to a sacrifice which sentiment longed to reject and logic could have readily denied."

From "Pedals Politics and People" Sir Hubert Opperman

Ó Rolf Lunsmann, 2000 How you can help Feedback