Way down upon the … no, not the Swanee River; even though the way “soigneur” is typically pronounced sounds a lot like it.

“Swannies” are the unsung heroes of pro cycling. They put in long hours, and are the “jacks of all trades”. Or the “janes of all trades”. I feel tired just thinking about it.

Swannies give massages at the end of the day. How much physical strength is needed to do even one massage? How long does it take? And to give massages to several cyclists, one after the other? I suspect that the stamina demanded must be great. 

Swannies go grocery shopping for the team. Sometimes they buy out a store’s entire stock of an item, because they don’t know when they might be able to buy it again.

Swannies are expected to drive. That’s not for me! I haven’t driven a car for over 16 years. I don’t feel up to driving even a comparatively small van; and a team bus? No; the job of swannie is definitely not for me! 

I don’t envy swannies having to hand out musettes to riders whizzing past at breakneck speed. That must require nerves of steel, on the part of both riders and swannies.

Nor do I envy swannies the task of laundering all that sweaty kit each night. If the day was rainy and wet, all those jerseys, socks, and so on, might be muddy as well as wet. It sounds less than pleasant, to put it mildly.

A swannee’s day might run from 6 am to 10 pm. Early to rise, and late to bed. It’s a job I’m not eager to take on. I’d rather go way down upon the Swanee River, and relax.