Cycling again
Despite the impression you will have from earlier cycling posts I have made, I do actually get on my bike reasonably often. Now that spring has arrived, and is almost immediately being pushed aside by summer, I am getting out more often.
During the week, when I have a chance, I go for a nice quiet ride on my own. Not too far, not too fast, just enjoying the countryside and spitting out the flies before I swallow them. The roads around here are always almost deserted, except for 12.00 and 2.00 when the working forces rush to a restaurant for lunch and then rush back to work again. All in all a very pleasant way to spend an hour or two.
Then sunday arrives. On a Sunday I don’t cycle alone, but with other enthusiasts. That sounds nice, don’t you think, a little group of cyclists out together? Well, it started a few weeks ago when a friend asked if I wanted to go for a ride. Of course I did, so we went, and had a fine old time. A week or two later another chap joined us, then another, and know we are about six.
Now you have probably guessed, there aren’t a lot of English cyclists in France, so I am a bit of a novelty. This novelty effect is increased because I only understand one word in ten that they shout at me in a heavy regional accent as we are cycling along, so they almost certainly think I am completely stupid. (Note - I can talk quite well ‘one-to-one’ but listening in to fast moving, heavily accented conversations, at 35 kmh is less easy.)
But as well as being a novelty, I have begun to think I am a threat. A keen French cyclist is a competitive beast, and the prospect, however unlikely, of being beaten up a hill by an Englishmen is more than can be contemplated. So what happens is that someone joins the group, finds they are slower than me, and then returns a week or two later in super-fit form and is ready to cycle a couple of Alpine passes as a warm up exercise.
But what happens in-between? Is it just that I don’t improve and they do (that can’t be the case because our average speed on these outings is increasing in leaps and bounds)? Are steroids involved? There was dark talk of eating lots of bananas before setting off but I don’t think that can be the whole explanation.
No, I think intensive training sets in. I suspect that while I am out and about enjoying the countryside during the week, others are driving to the Pyrenees and doing severe interval training. Of course, no-one says so, because that would defeat the purpose. But I have a feeling that one day I am going to come across one or more of these gents out on their bikes, cycling with an unnatural fury up the nearest hills.
The other slightly unexpected aspect is that there is a lot of competitiveness between those involved. About ten kilometres from the end, the speed starts to pick-up a bit, and hills start being tackled at high speed. Within five kilometres of home the pretence that it is all just in fun starts to be lost, and for the last two or three kilometres we hurtle along the road at a speed that would make Lance Armstrong stand up and pay attention. Cars move aside, pedestrians panic and children and small animals cower in roadside ditches.
Of course, we all get back to the car-park with legs like jelly, faces like beetroot, and have to pretend we are not even slightly out of breath, but that’s all part of the fun. And the oddest thing of all, I love it all - it really is one of the highlights of my week - and the uphills are my favourite part. Funny old business, cycling.
