Week 8: Freedom Machine

Cycling is full of controversial moments. Operación Puerto. Tragic Tom Simpson. The Festina Affair. The Armwarmers Incident.
 
This week, in an attempt to fend off any future controversial misdemeanours, I decided to revisit the Rules (for the uninitiated, click here). Rule 5 is quoted regularly but my favourite is #72. Legs speak louder than words. However, this being a blog (and having peaked to soon and already featured a picture of Ms Spitz's guns last week), I'd better come up with some words.
 
Yey! Check me out. No baggy armwarmers!
 
While perusing the Rules, I came across one of the best short articles I have read for ages. It will become my reference point for those moments when I get asked, "but why do you do it?" forever more. Handy and timely because those questions seem to crop up a little more often with a 24 hour race approaching.
 
Boots were made for walking. Bikes were made for travelling. The human-powered, pedal-driven, singletrack vehicle known as the bicycle or bicyclette (depending on your side of the Channel) was first introduced in Europe in the 19th century. Being awesome, it had a huge effect on society. Even before Strava. One off-spin in those bygone olden days times, was the unprecedented mobility it gave women. The humble velo became recognized by rad chicks as a freedom machine forever after. Wikipedia says so.
 
The freedom machine. Go sister! I can relate to that.
 
"Let go, but stand by"
Rad chicks learning to shred
 
Once upon a time, almost twenty years ago, a naive sixteen year old pedalwan learner wanted to know if it was possible for her to crank out 160 kilometres on her own. It was back in the motherland so the aim of a century of glorious imperial miles seemed like a good number. The young pedalwan learned lots that day. Most importantly, that it is possible. Solo with two Mars bars and a sandwich stuffed in jersey pockets. And a fifty pence piece for company in case you need to call your Mum because something has gone wrong. She also learned that you will inevitably ride through three seasons in one day (just no summer) and that calculating the distance of your route pre-ride by counting up the little distance numbers on a roadmap is not the most reliable method (and means you will cycle an extra twenty or so kilometres to get back home).
 
Last weekend, I realised not much has changed. While my jersey pocket food source has moved to a much more sensible training snack option, and my fifty pence coin has been upgraded to some sort of fandangled android device that requires more than a medical degree to operate (trust me, I'm a doctor), many familiarities endure. 
 
My long tempo sejour of the Wairarapa granted me the experience of riding through three seasons in one day (you guessed it, just no summer) and confirmed that Wairarapa country roads are as effective at creating Flemish tan lines (artifical tan lines caused by mud, grit and cowshit) as their Welsh counterparts.
 
More importantly, the same feeling was there. The answer to why I enjoy riding my bike for a long time and up big hills today is much the same as it was then. The sense of travelling. The sheer feeling of freedom and state of bliss. Going into the tunnel. And the best bit about ultra-endurance racing is that I get to do even more of it. 
 
 
Rule 9 needs an addendum. This is a rider who loves the work. And the feeling it gives them.

Penulis : Kim Hurst ~ Sebuah blog yang menyediakan berbagai macam informasi

Artikel Week 8: Freedom Machine ini dipublish oleh Kim Hurst pada hari Wednesday, 14 August 2013. Semoga artikel ini dapat bermanfaat.Terimakasih atas kunjungan Anda silahkan tinggalkan komentar.sudah ada 0 komentar: di postingan Week 8: Freedom Machine
 

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