the uk countryside in the summer months lends itself every so beautifully to cycling. rolling hills, dozens of back lanes and b-routes, long hours of daylight. every time i set out on my bike i find it all too overwhelming & come home much later than anticipated, having given in to curiosity, adrenaline, or both. cycling does another thing - it clears my head, better than tea or running or swimming or rowing. whereas some things require too much attention to technique (rowing), and others allow you to zone out completely (swimming) cycling provides an ideal combination of head space & body awareness.
now, i'd say i classify as an amateur amateur cyclist at best, riding the £150 bike i pieced together from ebay & my old frame (the deathtrap). i envy and admire those who do it seriously. about two weeks ago i met some people who cycle for a living--from a clock made of spokes, to an entire wardrobe full of lycra, not to mention a shed full of spare bike parts, i was pretty impressed. but at times i really am torn as to what the bike really is for. it has become, as many things do, a sport for the elite.
this chap articulates my point exactly. for him, it's not about the carbon frames and shimano parts, but rather, the 'lazy, languid, long distance cycle rides'. stopping at a pub along the way, some locals commented:
i have to admit, i am partial to those lycra lunatics. (this could be just my profound love of lycra; more on that later) & god knows if i had the money i'd deck myself like a little lycra leprechaun on a sweet carbon frame bike. or bamboo! but a recent purchase from my darling boyfriend has me whizzing through the back roads of oxfordshire looking like a giant soreen malt-loaf on a bike. :D
this chap is great though. he rides with the same mentality i meant to set out with on my unaccomplished LEJOG last year--"man, not machine". however, having been scraped & bruised a few times too many, i can't quite say i share the same affinity with his naivete.
I'll admit to a degree of naivety on my trip. As probably the last person working for the Guardian to not own a smart phone, I had to rely on the old-fashioned and frankly outdated concept of talking to people. I didn't bring a puncture repair kit or a spare inner tube. I had no plan for what to do if disaster struck, but I imagine it would have involved an expensive taxi ride. If it rained? Well, trousers get wet. It happens.
i supposed i enjoy the speed at which i move through the landscape. sometimes walking seems atrociously too slow--whereas two wheels is exactly what makes you feel invincible. huzzah!
now, i'd say i classify as an amateur amateur cyclist at best, riding the £150 bike i pieced together from ebay & my old frame (the deathtrap). i envy and admire those who do it seriously. about two weeks ago i met some people who cycle for a living--from a clock made of spokes, to an entire wardrobe full of lycra, not to mention a shed full of spare bike parts, i was pretty impressed. but at times i really am torn as to what the bike really is for. it has become, as many things do, a sport for the elite.
this chap articulates my point exactly. for him, it's not about the carbon frames and shimano parts, but rather, the 'lazy, languid, long distance cycle rides'. stopping at a pub along the way, some locals commented:
"Respect to you," they said. "You've got your socks tucked into your corduroy, you're riding a bike like that. You're not like those Lycra lunatics." Adding a silent punctuation mark, a racer with all the gear sped past. Knowing glances were exchanged.
i have to admit, i am partial to those lycra lunatics. (this could be just my profound love of lycra; more on that later) & god knows if i had the money i'd deck myself like a little lycra leprechaun on a sweet carbon frame bike. or bamboo! but a recent purchase from my darling boyfriend has me whizzing through the back roads of oxfordshire looking like a giant soreen malt-loaf on a bike. :D
this chap is great though. he rides with the same mentality i meant to set out with on my unaccomplished LEJOG last year--"man, not machine". however, having been scraped & bruised a few times too many, i can't quite say i share the same affinity with his naivete.
I'll admit to a degree of naivety on my trip. As probably the last person working for the Guardian to not own a smart phone, I had to rely on the old-fashioned and frankly outdated concept of talking to people. I didn't bring a puncture repair kit or a spare inner tube. I had no plan for what to do if disaster struck, but I imagine it would have involved an expensive taxi ride. If it rained? Well, trousers get wet. It happens.
i supposed i enjoy the speed at which i move through the landscape. sometimes walking seems atrociously too slow--whereas two wheels is exactly what makes you feel invincible. huzzah!
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