A bit about me
I’ve always been an enthusiastic cyclist, relishing the joys of touring during my earlier years, albeit within the constraints of a burgeoning family life.
The allure of exploring unfamiliar locales on a bike and camping presented an entirely novel adventure.
This newfound passion for “adventuring,” however, proved somewhat vexing as I couldn’t indulge in it as frequently as I desired, as family life responsibilities took understandable precedence.
Yet, my frustration took an unexpected turn one day.
Somber, hollow eyes did it for me
While navigating a bustling dual carriageway near Plymouth at a snail’s pace, my attention was captivated by a fluorescent number adorning the back of a solitary, drenched, and forlorn cyclist.
Our eyes met as I passed by, and in that moment, staring into his somber empty gaze, I thought, “Yes, that’s the sport for me.”
The subsequent year marked my initiation into the cycling community as I joined Fareham Wheelers, embracing the world of time trialling and donning Lycra before it became more sociably acceptable.
Despite being somewhat of a solitary rider, I eagerly tackled individual challenges across various distances, from 10-mile sprints to 12-hour endurance events.
However, knee issues later curtailed my riding.
Attributing my knee troubles to early adoption of clipless pedals with incorrect settings—given the limited knowledge available on their use—I found myself unable to train as rigorously which lead to frustration and a blow to my competitive spirit.
Like a pheonix (maybe)
Transitioning to purely recreational cycling, my passion waned over the years, particularly as my career path underwent changes that left little time for extensive rides.
A minor knee operation and a subsequent job change, however, prompted my joyous return to cycling.
Gradually increasing my riding, I embraced a regular twenty-mile commute to the office, finding solace in the saddle while colleagues bemoaned motorway gridlock—something I, with a wry smile, took no pleasure in hearing.