The Spring Migration.

Tomorrow sees a true force of nature. Not a starling murmuration, not wildebeest herds crossing the great rift valley. Nope. Just the first local road cycling sportif of 2022. No, I'm not joking. The first one hundred kilometre sportif is an act of nature, a true migration in the stature of Emperor penguins marching, or chinook salmon swimming thousands of miles to the spawning grounds. The only thing missing from this great feat of nature will be David Attenborough's voice as narrator, due to budget constraints.

What on earth makes me think this cycling event is one of the earth's true wonders? The colour of course! Neither flamingoes, parrots, nor flying fish have anything on one hundred neon cyclists hurtling down an annual flight path towards their goal. After a long winter hidden from nature, often locked behind closed doors preparing for a new year, it is time to leave the safety of the nest.
And the creatures involved consist of a varied array, all with a different purpose within the herd.
Amongst them will be the sleekest creatures, stealthy carnivores eyeing their meaty prey and waiting for the first sign of weakness. These cheetah-like animals wear black, signifying their stealth and accentuating their lean condition after a winter of malnutrition. They sport no flashing rear lights and their machines are licked clean for speed.
Their soon-to-be-devoured brethren however are easy to spot, brandishing day-glo jackets, overshoes and gloves. Yes, they often look like they fell over in the offer aisles of ALDI, that their clothes inflate at higher speeds or that the hand of bananas they carry in sagging pockets will cause a crash. But they are an integral part of this two-wheeled spring migration. They are the newbies, large creatures that fell into the sport between Junior B and a mid-life crisis. They have never known the bella figura of Roche. They are easy prey as they talk loud, allow bits of pocketed jackets to hang out of their jerseys flapping, and shout directions too loud.
In tasteful club colours you'll find the main herd of animals. Some have spent their winter eating their own weight in HEROES believing the consumption of said rare fodder will turn them into it's namesake. They look tailored in their gear but chafe marks around their lycra bottoms give away their weight and indeed their sad-fate in the hills ahead. The rest can be a subdued bunch, hardly speaking lest they burn the precious calories required later. Or ignoring their fellow cyclist due to notions of superiority. When they do speak it is in reverential, incomprehensible codes. FTP. Watts. Stages. V02. Their language subliminally signals to their rivals just how close to a killing machine they have become.
Next come the old animals known as the 'ex-racers'. They have tans, an almost unheard of pigmentation in springtime here. They have come from sunnier climes in anticipation of the migration. They have the muscle-definition of Alpha-male pack leaders. In their fifties they know about positioning, wind directions and energy conservation. They are waiting, relying on a vast past knowledge to get them through to the end.
Sometimes in this great migration there are the creatures known as tri-athletes. These are not quite fully formed cyclists that as yet must develop stability and acceleration. They are shunned.😉
Lets not forget the cubs. Affectionately known by the over-45s as 'Bloody Juniors' in this rapid migration, their job is to frustrate their elders. They are not fully fledged yet, have a condition known as noodle legs, yet they seem to have the strength of the sleekest, the smiles of the newbies and the staying-power of everyone combined. Once let loose in the herd [under adult supervision] they will circulate full of enthusiasm and cunning, never tiring as they wait for the finale. They are a colourful bunch to watch.
Also in this superb, fast-moving migration we have the Gordos. Foragers whose whole reason for being is to rifle CIRCLE-Ks along the route for their chocolate, fake-coffee and FIG ROLLS. By the end of this great day they will have gained weight, yet in a strange twist of fate they will survive the onslaught of the sleek ones and those in club colours for they will probably be gathered around a Cadburys display somewhere far behind, as the nasty, animalistic action starts further along the route.
Finally we have the 'juicers'. Startled animals that are far too alert to danger to hide in the herd for safety. Feasting all January on caffeine/taurine/beta-alanine and DMAA, they are so stimmed to the hilt that they attack when there is no actual threat, talk to themselves up the road for company and are so paranoid as the hairs stand up on the back of their necks that they don't know their own herd from a predator. They are fun to watch and easy to converse with 'coz they'll do all the talking.
Ah yes, such a wonderful, colourful, eclectic mix in one of nature's true breathtaking events. A trek across two whole counties in early April through the grass and beet lands of southeast Ireland. It truly is one of the world's wonders.