OK I admit it, I am basically a fair weather cyclist. I should qualify that by saying that I am a rain-averse cyclist: I do my best to avoid cycling in the rain. Windy and cold is ok. The little wet drops are definitely not. Anyway, cycling has come back onto my radar because a couple of weeks ago I cycled for the first time in about six months.
The reason for my long layoff from pedal power is that I am working away from home during the week, and this has coincided with the winter. In the good old days, when I worked from my home office, I would cycle regularly. I did not ever go far, but my bike was my preferred mode of transport to the leisure centre, which I visited regularly three or four times a week, either to play badminton or to make a fool of myself in the gym. In addition, I used to ride over to a friend’s house most weeks to engage in the sort of rant-powered talk that gives men approaching a certain age that fashionable “grumpy” label. On pleasant mornings, I would eschew the gym in favour of a ride alongside Bournemouth’s famous seven miles of sandy beaches, so all in all my bike had regular, if modest, use.
A couple of weeks ago, I resurrected my “rantathon” appointment and cycled over to my friend’s house one Saturday morning. The sky was overcast, but rain was not expected and did not arrive while I cycled. The sense of freedom, the air rushing past my skin, the view across to the Isle of Wight, all these things felt so refreshing after the literally thousands of miles I have driven over the last few months. I did get a puncture, though fortunately it must have happened right at the end of my ride, because I did not notice it until I was about to return home. That was when I realised how much I had missed cycling, the disappointment I felt when I had to get a lift home from my friend, instead of cycling back.
That puncture did have a significant consequence though: it made me realise the handicap that my son has been under for years with his bike. I have not yet had time to repair the puncture, so I borrowed my son’s bike the other day when I went to the leisure centre to play badminton. He has a suspension bike, which looks good, but boy was it hard work to ride! I now understand why he has been so reluctant to use it. The major problems were rubbing brakes and stiff gear changing. I should probably have sorted these things out years ago, when he mentioned them, but for a number of reasons I never have, and he has not been that bothered about it either. Anyway, suffice to say I have now made a few adjustments, and I hope he tries cycling again before he disappears to university.
I hope that my cycling career is not yet over and that I can get back to regular cycling. I’m going to encourage my family to cycle this summer, even if it is only a few miles each time. I just hope the rain holds off. The approaching warmer weather has also reminded me about the ridiculous no cycling policy that exists along most of Bournemouth’s promenade during July and August, but that is another tale…
I note that the writer seems to think that men acquire a ‘grumpy’ status when they reach a certain age. Could he specify when he thinks this is? In my opinion, men of any age can hold strong views on topical issues. Just because they getting older does’nt mean that should be labelled surly and tetchy!
I was only referring to the stereotypical label given to such men after the age of about 51. Personally, I would never say that they are grumpy purely because of their strong views, the grumpiness refers to a much wider pattern of behaviour that can strike at any age, or not ever.