Today would have been Beryl Burton’s 80th birthday. An absolute machine on a bike, with over ninety domestic titles and seven world championships to her palmarès, she was the Best British All Rounder for twenty five consecutive years. Had cycling been introduced into the Olympic Games sooner (Beryl was 47 when it arrived) there is no doubt she’d have achieved a lot more. Strong mentally and strong physically, she specialised in the solitary hell of time trials. In 1967 she set a new world record for the 12 hour time trial with a time so fast, it exceeded the men’s record and continued to do so for over two years. It remains the women’s record at 277.25 miles to this day and many other records of hers stood for decades before falling. On the way to her record breaking ride, she caught and overtook Mike McNamara who was well on the way to setting the men’s record (who also won the men’s Best British All Rounder that same year) and, as she passed him, she gave him a liquorice allsort because “the poor dear seemed to be struggling a bit”. The poor fucker, not only was his record beaten and overshadowed, it was overshadowed with real style and by a woman which was a big deal in those days. (It still is for some people. Whiny little pricks crying at the cafe about being ‘chicked’ on the club run so it shows that despite all her great work, we still have a way to go.) Beryl died as she lived, riding her bicycle, whilst hand delivering invitations to her 59th birthday party. She is undoubtedly one of the greatest athletes that has ever lived.
