Generally speaking, I like other people. If it wasn’t for other people life would be different. I wouldn’t exist, and neither would you - so other people get a resounding double thumbs up. But that doesn’t necessarily mean I have to go out riding bicycles with them.
Call me antisocial misery guts if you wish, but, whilst I don’t quite detest cycling in the company of others, I do find it an infinitely less rewarding and therapeutic experience than riding alone. Going solo is the ultimate form of escapism.
Whilst I know that, for many cyclists, the sense of community and friendships forged on the bike are major perks of the sport, I'm just not one of them. Here’s why...
Leaving the chat
If I want to chat I go to the pub and do it, or phone up my Auntie Vera who could talk the hind legs off a donkey before polishing off its mates. Conversely, if I’m descending a country lane at 35 miles per hour, while I’m obviously delighted that the pan-fried sea bass with seasonal veg medley was an unmitigated hit at the dinner table last night, I’m currently doing all I can not to lose my bicycle down a pothole. This logic applies even more in an off-road setting, where there are roots and rocks to look out for.
Conversations and bike rides are simply not compatible, for me – my contribution to most exchanges are usually limited to “what?” “sorry?”and “can you repeat that?” before nodding and smiling in an apologetic way that hopefully conveys the fact that I shall be ignoring any further attempts to chat.
Although the smiling and nodding technique is a proven winner, it does come at the detriment of making me appear a) rude b) deaf c) slightly idiotic.
Back to my routes
Planning a route is almost as fun as riding it and, in some cases, takes just as long. I find an intense joy in plotting a course that will allow for exploration over specific terrain and a specific duration. If I’m looking for an on-bike strength session I’ll head for the hills and throw in a few reps of the steepest. If I want to ride fast I’ll find the flattest roads and build a loop where the lion’s share of wind is at my back. When the call of the wild is in my ears, I'll plot a remote gravel ride and spend the day on the trails.
Cycling with other people invariably means riding a route that I have no real interest in. Yes, a road is a road is a road and a trail is a trail - but if I’m going to the trouble of pulling on my cycling gear and saddling up for a few hours a-wheel, I don’t want the journey dictated by anyone but me.
Hitting pause for cake
I like a macchiato and a slab of lemon drizzle cake as much as the next rider. But I don’t want to feel obligated to stop for a slice half way through a 50 mile ride. In fact, I don’t want to stop for anything halfway through a 50 mile ride. I want to ride 50 miles without enduring the rigmarole of pausing, stripping off 20lbs’ worth of cycling attire and shivering my way through a cup of coffee. When warmth finally arrives, lo and behold it’s time to get dressed again and the subsequent 15 minutes are spent attempting not to succumb to hypothermia. If I’m feeling peckish on a bike ride I’ll locate a gas station and make merry with a meal deal on the forecourt for five minutes. I recommend the triple cheese, Hula Hoop and Cherry Coke combo.
Wait for me!
Any fantasy I harbour about being a good cyclist is usually extinguished as soon as the road shows the slightest rumour of rising. The minute any kind of gradient is introduced to the ride I find myself hopelessly floundering at the back, while those who have a slightly more controlled approach to the amount of junk food they consume skip merrily off the front. We 90kg types may look thick-skinned and grizzled but we’re invariably sensitive souls who don’t want our weight penalty highlighted every time we ride our bicycles, I’d much rather suffer in private.
So, there you have it: that’s why I would rather ride solo, and, I’ll hazard a guess that after reading, no one would want to go riding with me any time soon, anyway!
