Why do you cycle?

Recently I opted myself onto a Speed Awareness course for car drivers. Yeah, yeah. The camera had caught me again; driving one of the daughters to an interview and running late etc etc. Bang to rights.

            The course was a real eye-opener. Absolutely brilliant. I’m over 60, have been driving since I was 17, but I learned a huge amount.

            I am a changed man. Now, I drive like a human being. I’m no longer in a race. I regard speed limits as a maximum not a minimum. And I’m a calmer, happier driver.

            With cycling it was easier to make that change from manic road racer to gentle off-road tootler. Physical limitations are so much more obvious on a bike; hips groan, knees creak and fingers ache. The little niggling pains increase with age. They are obvious warning signs.

            For years I cycled with an image in my brain – Eddie Mercx, Laurent Fignon, Greg Lemonde, Miguel Indurain, the fallen Lance. Yes, I was them. On my “racing” bike and with my little computer I was a “racer.” But I have never been on a track. All my racing was done on roads.

            I gave my racer away to a young musician and bought myself a hybrid and I’ve never been happier cycling, heading out virtually every day of the year in any weather condition. I probably do more than 100 miles a week and I rarely touch on main roads.

            I threw the little computer away. Did I really want to know my average speed? Did it give me pleasure, knowing this fact? Well, no, not really.

            You see, for me, the fun had gone out of cycling; now I go out for pleasure and enjoyment. I love to spot great buildings, unusual sights. I love to discover car-free routes, to catch sight of an underground canal in downtown Manchester, to spot a heron right in the process of killing a vole in a pond. I love to watch the clouds and the trees.

            I watch the seasons; icicles on a railway bridge, wild flowers all over the place, the dust of summer, the berries of autumn – it’s all wonderful and it doesn't go past me in a blur of speed and rage.

            If you’re not Bradley Wiggins then cycling isn't a race. Even your commute to and from work isn’t a race. Enjoy it. You might have to go a little further but wouldn't it be great to avoid that busy main road at rush hour? I speak as one of the idiots who cycled all the way to work and back for years on nothing but main roads. Believe me, there are other routes.

            Getting lost for me is never a problem; it’s an opportunity to see something new, to find somewhere new, to be surprised. Try this mindset at a weekend and you might be surprised.

            I do understand the bad-tempered, grim-jawed cyclist with helmet and lycra who flew past me and wove his way past motorists last month, causing one to crash and another to swerve violently and then just rode off at full speed. I do, but why is he cycling? If it’s for all that anger and adrenaline then, go for it, but please don’t moan about cyclists having a rough time. That way of riding is your choice and yours alone.

            So, get your bike out, squirt some oil round, pull on a woolly hat and a scarf and go out and explore. The town is just as interesting as the countryside; there are cycle paths and routes all over the place. It’s a challenge to link them all up in order to create a ride that you will actually enjoy.

            Oh and if you feel like a break – it’s actually OK to stop and just look around and it’s not a sign of dishonour when you come to a ridiculously steep hill to get off and walk for a bit. Nobody will send you a white feather. The cycle police are too busy screeching down the A6 or Princess Parkway, fighting for their lives and filling their lungs with fresh exhaust fumes.