Sunday 24 January 2010

Faux Belgian

Ride 21 of 100

Looking out of the window provided zero inspiration, cold, wet and grey, just like yesterday, difference today though is that I NEED to ride for mine and my families sanity, lots of stuff going on thats conspired to turn up the white noise in my head to eleven.

Mouth parched from last nights red wine, cup of tea and a muffin was all I could face before reluctantly heading out of the door into the drizzle, rain coat straight on and thankful for the mudguards I set off.

Uncomfortable seating posture, tight legs, cold hands already, not enjoying this, headed into the countryside to be faced by roads shattered from the frost, heaps of mud everywhere brought into the road by the snow, clouds closing in, its 1230 and I need lights.

Twenty five minutes later and I'm starting to relax, posture has found its default setting, legs are stretching a little, hands still cold, noise levels already down to seven. Head for the trail, spy the conditions from top of the bridge and note the very very muddy couple climbing the steps, smiling, not smiling enough to make me want to take that trail though. Carry on along the lanes and start to relax into my past, these are the lanes where I first started my cycling club days as a thirteen year old, I know them so well.

Feeling quite the Belgian, enjoying these conditions, allbeit a fat unfit Belgian !

Fred Minshull pops into my mind, one ride in particular where this renowned hard man of the cycling world drifted back from the bunch to offer some wind resistance to a struggling slip of a lad, not one for many words was Fred, and even I knew enough to stay out of is way when the wheels were turning. He startled me into action by telling me how he knew the wind and rain was on its way because of the way the sky looked, pointing out the dark clouds ahead, the rain falling to the north, and how we were going to have a tough few miles getting home. It was of course a rouse to take my mind off the pain and before long I was on the back. Probably the longest conversation I ever had with him but one that I remember today as I'm struggling for momentum.

This thought was enough to see me through the next two hours, Fred was also renowned for his 150 mile clubruns, he took great delight in just riding his bike for as long as possible, I used to be like that, before life caught up and changed things, in fact there was a gang of us, spending all summer riding, everywhere, because we could.

By the time I'd turned for home I was completely soaked through cold and hungry, but happy, happy that the white noise was now back at its usual level of 2, happy that I'd had a great rememberance and happy that I'd ridden a bike, just like I used to do.

However the past hadn't yet completely gone, coming up to the river crossing and I could see a bunch of old timers ahead of me, I caught them at the bridge and instantly recognised some old friends, ex time trial champions, ex road race champions, ex cyclo cross champions, all now in their late sixties and seventies.......... but still out in this rubbish weather riding their bikes, putting the miles in ready for another season of racing, planning a trip to the sun next week to get some serious miles in, talking about the old days, not with rose tinted glasses but with merciless piss taking, and happy to see me out on a bike.

2 comments:

  1. Lovely Steve. Could have done with you doing that yesterday, I might then have read it this morning and gone out and ridden for longer than the 45 mins I went out for.

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  2. right, suitabley inspired, i'm off out. (in the rain)

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