I sat at the kitchen table at 6.30A.M. on Sunday morning munching cardboard muesli to a Matin chorus of chilling rain. It was biblical. And I knew I wouldn't cycle. I mean, I'd done everything right: bike ready, tyres pumped, bottles filled, clothing in order, bananas/Garmin/C02 cartridge/key on the counter. But I munched and read CYCLIST cover to cover and stayed home.
Why? Well I see myself as a positive guy and can turn most situations into a positive experience.
* Stay at home? It's mid-October. Who cares if I miss a spin? The first of November is my cut-off point for Doritos/ shiraz/ lazy approaches. Does it matter a damn if I'm not getting one over on other club-members/ frenemies/ Winter warriors? HELL NO!
* I get to go pumpkin picking when the rain clears. I owe my family that much. They put up with me not being there on Sunday mornings to watch EVAN TUBE or Horrid Henry repeats at 8A.M. because I'm hurtling down a back lane lying to myself about how I could be a contender when the reality is a far uglier truth.
* Darkness? I don't cycle in Dante's Inferno. Nor do I pedal some ill-lit hobbit Erebor. I stick on enough lights so even the drunkest Troll behind the wheel of a Golf at 6.30A.M. will get spooked. I wear enough high-viz to be mistaken for a breathalyser check-point and carry on.
* Snow? I get to do a flat out hour on the mountain bike in the eerily silenced woods without fear of injury. Yes indeed, I can dress like a demented IRA member, covered head to foot, balaclava included, as I frighten squirrels in my path. Then I get to go home and light the fire and laugh.
* Ice? I get to head for the coast after checking a dozen apps to see what the ground temps are. I love the coast. It laughs at my inertia and changes daily. The air is salty and invariably warmer. Going to the sea in Winter is what my neighbours only attempt in Summer.
* Mechanicals? I don't have them. My spannerman George, never lets my bike get that far. I sail the lanes and snort at the thought of a squeak or a rough bearing. Fail to prepare, prepare to fail.
* Illness? Rarely happens. If I go out into a downpour I'll probably get sinusitis. I don't have ephedrine to unblock my nose. So what's positive? A bit of sympathy from the missus? Couch time watching Cyclocross? How bad!
* The hunger knock? These bloody fasted rides are a double-edged sword. I may lose weight over time but it can be tricky. Wanting to climb off and sleep in the ditch/ mirages and dizziness sound cool depending on where you are coming from. Personally if I get the bonk and teeter home like a drunk sloth I treat it as a life-lesson. 35 years of biking can still teach me something. I am human.
* Winter training? Soak it up. Once you've had a good break, givin' yourself a good talking to and committed, Winter training takes care of itself. It's not rocket science. Invest the miles, withdraw the smiles.
* A crash? Something positive? Sure! We all need a reminder that we are breakable. When Mexicans gather at their loved-one's graves for the day of the dead it isn't just to say hello and share a drink. It reminds those above ground that they won't always have that privilege. A crash is a nudge from the Gods to wake us up, to remind us that we have loved ones and jobs and are part of a world beyond cycling. Sometimes it takes a broken bone, ripped muscle or damage to wake us up to what we have as opposed to what we want.
* There you have it. Positivity. I'm sure there's more but I don't want to bore you with stuff you already know. Besides... there's a glass of Shiraz and a hedonistic mix of tortilla chips and custard creams in the house.
Relax, 'tis but October!!
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