I spin my legs gently. My bike takes me forward at a relaxed pace as I enjoy the sight of the blue sky dotted with clouds. I have a 12 hour adventure race tomorrow, so don’t want to wear myself out.
MAMILS* and triathletes zip past me in both directions. Most appear to be in their forties and fifties. They don’t bother to wave, nod or say good morning.
Perhaps I am too much an amateur in their eyes; dressed as I am in casual shorts, t-shirt and mountain bike shoes while riding my old road bike. Perhaps they are too busy. Or, scarily, perhaps those coming towards me don’t even realise I am there.
See, the MAMILs are riding in small bunches, staring intently at the buttocks of the man in front of them. And the triathletes are all laying flat on their tri-bars. Their eyes are firmly fixed on their cycle computers and they glance up occasionally to look at the road ahead before going back to their number crunching.
I wonder whether these cyclists with whom I share the road even notice the colour of the sky, which contrasts so brilliantly with the grey thunder clouds that have been rolling in every night. Or whether they realise that the grass has changed this week from a dry brown and yellow to an almost iridescent green; thanks to the rain those nightly thunder storms have been dropping.
It’s interesting to think that we cyclists are often all lumped together. But there are definitely distinct tribes. In which tribe do I belong? Who knows. But I ain’t no MAMIL and I think the scenery is far more interesting than the speed at which I am (or am not) traveling.
Total: 15.2km spin (road bike) + 12.4km commute (MTB on road)
* A MAMIL is a Middle Aged Man In Lycra