|
Happy FriYAY Team!
I came across such an inspiring story the other day, and thought it would be the perfect timing to share as we hit race day for Robina Standard Distance World Champs qualifier on Sunday.
In 1951, Gustaf Håkansson signed up for an endurance race covering virtually the entirety of Sweden, only for his submission to be rejected because of his age. It was determined that the 66-year-old had neither the strength nor the stamina to compete with the 50 other racers half his age. Gustaf was there on race day in the saddle of his roadster complete with mudguards, a headlamp (which is what eventually helped him emerge victorious) and panniers. No helmet, no aerobars and definitely no lycra cycle kit!
He had donned on a homemade bib with the number 0, probably to indicate to the officials he wasn't joking and that he was indeed expecting to be treated as a participant. It was however difficult to see the bib under the old man's impressive long, flowing beard!
Five days, five hours and 1,000 miles later, spectators waiting to cover the winner in eternal glory, spotted a figure rounding the last corner. Amid their cheers they went to greet him and offer him food and water, so exhausted he must be after such an enormous slog through Sweden. Expecting to embrace a much younger rider, the slender old man was bending over the handlebars during the last push, the receiving crowd were understandably more than a little perplexed to watch a frail old gentleman wobble over the line on a rusty old roadster with a flat tyre. Not only that, but a full day ahead of the next rider.
Gustaf won, and his efforts went public. There was less interest placed on the race itself, as people were more fascinated as to whether Gustaf would at any time keel over and die. Surely he couldn't keep up that amount of strain on his little old heart for too much longer. How was he going to maintain a good pace with virtually no sleep? Gustaf became the centre of national attention.
After three days and only five hours' sleep, Gustaf was leading the field by more than 120 miles. At one point the police tried to persuade him to stop for a medical examination, but he only laughed – and pedaled on.
Eventually, with only 1km or so to go, "steel grandpa" (as he became known in the villages he'd passed through) came to an abrupt halt. But it wasn't sheer exhaustion that had stopped him – the old man's bicycle had suffered its first and only flat tyre.
Unperturbed, Gustaf dismounted and set towards the finish line where, with only a few hundred meters to go, he remounted to cross the line!
Despite the unofficial victory, a subsequent audience with the king of Sweden and generally being showered in fame and honour, Gustaf's greatest satisfaction came from proving wrong the doctors who had thought he was better suited in a rocking chair than he was in a saddle. The Steel Grandpa continued to ride bicycles until his death in 1987 at the age of 102.
If that isn't a testament that age is just a number, and you’ve gotta be in it to win it, then I surely don’t know what is. For those racing on Sunday, when the going gets tough and you in the depths on that hurt locker, think of old mate Gustaf!
YOU are stronger than YOU think,
Alli |
