Ever heard of Paris Syndrome? Roubaix Syndrome would be apropos for the same reasons. We named a bike after it, after all, but it’s horrible to ride here. One big ride in April, and every racer knows they had no business riding a bike here. The cobbles beat and kick without respite. They make strongmen beg and whimper like starved dogs, with all the weeping and gnashing of teeth reserved for parable…Double, double toil and trouble and all the rest of it.
But our Roubaix feels like it’s suspended over these bitter stones. Smoother. Faster. It was born for this place. It’s destiny that every Roubaix has a Roubaix.