Cyclists, I’m told, are the most materialistic of all people who participate in sport. At the risk of making a clunky opening paragraph clunkier, I could now spend the next 500 words elaborating on why “people who participate in sport” and “cyclists” are two very different categories.
But I won’t. I’ve probably covered that more than once already on this website.
So assuming we can compare weekend tennis players, and committed fell-runners, and open water swimmers and…gulp…traithletes, with cyclists, we are apparently the ones who tend to “want” more “stuff”.
A quick trawl of all the lifestyle-y cycling content online might confirm that.
I had a little think about this, using myself as a wholly representative sample of the UK’s cyclists. I came to the conclusion that yes, I’d quite like a Wilier Cento 10 AIR, and a pair of Fizik R1B UOMO shoes, and some Chpt.III kit, but there’s actually only one thing that I really “want” in the grasping, frenzied sense of the word.
The times when I feel at my euphoric best on the bike are the ones when I’m balletic and light on the pedals, and have that rare feeling of endless power in the legs.
The worst times are when my riding partner disappears out of view over the brow of a hill, leaving me grovelling, gasping, and seriously considering having a stroke right there at the roadside.
The desirability of my accessories is a secondary issue.
If I rode a Wilier Cento and wore Fizik shoes and Chpt.III kit it would have only a limited effect on the height of the euphoria or the depth of the grovel. It would also raise the question of whether someone doing such a large amount of grovelling should really be allowed out in public with such rare and expensive kit.
But that’s a can of worms I’d rather leave firmly shut.
That fact is that if I had bigger lungs I would grovel less and euphoriate (yes, it’s a new word, and it’s mine…) more.
If it were possible to buy a pair of brand new, super-efficient, oversized lungs at my local bike shop then I would covet, crave, and salivate at the thought of them.
I’d probably buy a “good” set of expensive summer lungs with fancy detailing and vintage stylings (although i’d steer clear of merino wool – I can’t imagine woollen lungs are going to solve my problems), and a second pair for winter use when the air is thick with bad weather.
All of which raises one further thought.
If you notice that your local bike shop sells human lungs, you should probably check that it is actually a bike shop. And either way, you should probably stop spending your money there.
It doesn’t sound very reputable.
(Image: via Pixabay.com)
Categories: real life cycling