The Boy On The Bicycle

A story about two children who taught me a valuable lesson about love and sacrifice.

I wrote this a long time ago but found it tonight. I was restless and unable to sleep. Perhaps it is the bitter cold that brought it back to my memory. Dedicated to Daniel and Lisa _____________________________________________________

That night I worked late. I was deeply immersed in the laborious task of checking through page after page of figures. The uncharacteristic silence was accentuated by the steady buzz of computer equipment and the occasional tapping of my fingers upon a keyboard. A sharp rapping at the window startled me. I jumped and my heartbeat quickened but when I looked up to see who had knocked I discovered with relief that it was only a small boy. The reflection of light upon the glass made it difficult for me to make out his features and so I stood up and impulsively opened the window, thinking, 'What on earth is a child doing here at this time of night?' As I squinted through the open window, I noticed that he was barefoot and wore shorts and a scruffy shirt. It struck me that he must be freezing. It was a bitterly cold night.

I let him inside and was overcome with a pity on seeing the pathetic state of the poor child. His little hands and feet were literally blue with cold and the skin on his legs was mottled. His knees were encrusted with scabs. I noticed that he had large grey eyes and a spattering of freckles on his dirty face. I took my warm wool jacket off and draped it over his skinny shoulders and made him sit close to the radiator while I made hot tea. I watched while he sipped upon the steaming beverage until the shivers subsided before asking him what I could do to help. He looked at me with the pathetic look of a small puppy and replied, 'Thank you lady. I need a lift home. Please could you drive me? I've got my bicycle but it's too far and my mom is sick. She's going to be so worried." I asked him what he was doing out so late and he told me that he washed cars to make money to support his family. He had cycled far from home to reach a more affluent area where he was likely to make more money. He had tried to cycle home again but had got lost. I asked him what area he lived in and he told me that he lived in Newlands, an area on the rougher side of town crammed with ramshackle houses. I was stunned at how far such a small boy had cycled. When I asked him how old he was I was surprised to learn that he was eleven. I had guessed that he was around eight years of age based on his size. I promised him that I would drive him home and after packing up, we left the office together and walked to my car. Fortunately we were able to fit his small bicycle into the trunk. On the long drive to his neighbourhood, I questioned him. He told me that he had a little sister who stayed home and took care of his ailing mother. Neither of the children went to school. I wondered if his mother was sick or if she was a drunk or worse. What caring mother would let her small child work to support her, especially dressed as he was.

Finally we arrived in Newlands and the boy was able to direct me to his house. The dark streets, unlit by streetlights, turned shadows into imaginary or maybe not so imaginary threats. The houses, so dark and ominous, seemed to sit on their haunches like malevolent creatures. The bitterly cold wind buffeted my car and lifted bits of paper and plastic into the air in a desolate dance. Eventually he signalled for me to stop and I pulled over, my headlights illuminating a box-like structure that passed for a house. I helped him hoist his bicycle out of my trunk and gently but firmly insisted I go in with him. I wanted to meet his mother. Entering that house was quite a shock. It was dingy and the only form of lighting came from a paraffin lamp flickering on the kitchen table. I was moved with compassion and this emotion only intensified when a little girl that looked to be around six years of age rushed up to greet her brother. She was also barefoot and wore a small dress made of a flimsy material that had been darned in many places. I felt angry at the state of these two children and became determined to find out what was wrong with the neglectful mother. Quietly fuming, I asked the little girl where her mother was and she told me that she was sleeping. I asked to talk to her but both the children shook their heads vehemently and begged me to let her rest. I asked if I could at least see her and promised them I wouldn't wake her and they finally relented. I was sure I'd smell the stench of alcohol. I had convinced myself that their mother was either a drunk or a drug addict. I was unprepared for what I'd see in the tiny room I was led to. The woman was skeletal and hollow eyed. She lay on a dirty mattress with a single blanket wrapped around her bony frame. I did not smell alcohol but there was an unmistakable stench of decay in that room - a living death. I wondered for a moment if in fact she was dead but when I heard the rattling of her breath I realized that although she was critically ill and probably on death's door, she was still alive.

"What is wrong with her?" I whispered. The boy looked at me with large sad eyes and said, "She's got AIDS" I gasped in shock at the revelation (even more so at his knowledge of it) and asked him why she was not in a hospital. He shared that she had been but that she had been sent home because the hospital couldn't help her. It seemed inconceivable to me that a woman who was clearly dying could be sent home to waste away in front of her two children. I learnt that their father had disappeared years before. They did not seem to have other relatives and neither of the two children knew where to turn to for help. They'd taken it upon themselves to care for their mother. The boy proudly showed me how much money he had made that day from his car washing and told me that he was saving up for a warm comforter for his mother. Both children slept on a mattress in the same room as their mother. I told the children that I'd come back the next morning to see them and made the boy promise he would not go anywhere until I returned. For a brief moment I considered taking them home with me but I knew that they'd refuse to leave their mother and I would not have known how to explain their presence to my cynical husband. On the long drive to my own home I wondered what I could have done. Could I have bundled their mother up in my car and taken her back to the hospital and insisted they help her? Thoughts milled through my mind as tears finally spilled from my eyes and poured unchecked down my cheeks. I spent a restless night tossing and turning in my warm comfortable bed, unable to sleep with disturbing images haunting my dreams. As the sun rose, I got up and dressed. I rifled through cupboards and pulled out blankets and towels. I found a bag of my children's old clothing, grateful I hadn't gotten round to giving them away. I packed all of these onto the back seat of my car and then filled the boot with groceries from my own cupboards and all my stock of candles. I collect candles and so had a formidable collection. There was a niggling thought that I should be

reporting the state of these children to child welfare and getting them into foster care but I knew that they would not agree to leave their ailing mother and I determined to try to help them as best I could. I also made up my mind to get in touch with welfare organizations to see what help could be offered the poor woman. I drove back to Newlands but although I remembered the street I had driven to the night before, I could not for the life of me remember where the house was located. I certainly would not have recognized it even if I saw it. There were no numbers on the houses and they all looked so similar. I cursed for not having paid closer attention to where I had driven when I saw the boy cycling down the road toward me. I breathed a sigh of relief and pulled over as he cycled up to me. "I thought I told you not to go anywhere." I chided with a smile. "I've got to buy some bread and milk" he replied quickly and then smiled broadly when I told him that I had brought plenty of food with me. "Gee thanks Lady." "You're welcome. Now lead me back to your house will you?" He nodded, turned his bicycle around and cycled furiously up the road until finally he pulled into the yard of the decrepit box of a house that was his home. I entered through the kitchen, carrying boxes of food and supplies. I was once again struck by the abject poverty of this family. I found the place depressing and an odious smell seemed to permeate throughout. The little girl had made some attempt to clean up with a dirty rag but without proper cleaning materials she was not able to make much of a difference. I made a mental note to bring further supplies at my next visit. Both children helped me unpack the groceries with such excitement it was as if I had brought them Christmas gifts. Their excitement and jubilation brought tears to my eyes again but I blinked them back. I didn't want them to know how deeply their plight touched

me. These two children did not know what it was to have a normal childhood. They had no grassy lawn on which to play, no trees to climb and no toys. Other than the boy's old bicycle, there was not a single bit of evidence that children inhabited this place. After we had unpacked all of the supplies I asked if their mother was awake. "She's still sleeping. Sshhh," said the little girl with a finger pressed to her lips. "Are you sure? Would you mind if I checked?" When I entered the room again I noticed that she was lying on her side and not on her back, as she had been when I first saw her. Her body barely made a dent on the bed it was so tiny – almost childlike. I tiptoed around the bed and then looked down at her face. Her hair was wispy and her cheekbones sharp. They looked almost as though they could pierce her skin, a skin that was surprisingly smooth but completely devoid of colour. There was a line of drool hanging from her mouth. I listened for the raspy sound of breath and when I heard none I gently touched her shoulder with my hand. She was rigidly cold to the touch. It dawned on me with ice shock that she was dead and had been so for hours (in all likelihood she had died just after I'd left the night before). My heart sunk in those seconds I stood with my hand upon her frail shoulder my mind spinning as I pondered what I would tell the children. It seemed to be more than a coincidence that the little boy had knocked on my window the night before. Was it providential that I had been around at the right time? I wondered about what would have happened had I not decided to work late that night or if the boy hadn't knocked on my window. Where would these children have turned when their mother died? All these questions whirled around in my mind but the most pressing one was how I was going to break the news to the two children. They were right at that moment excitedly making a meal for their beloved mother with the supplies I had brought them. I had never spoken to the woman and yet I felt an

indescribable sadness at her death. I marvelled at the love and loyalty of her two children who had at great personal sacrifice taken care of her as best they could. After their mother's death, the children were placed in a children's home and I visited them regularly until they were placed into foster care. I was told at that point that it was best that I allow them to adapt to their new surroundings. It was suggested that my presence could be a distraction and although I didn't agree I acquiesced with reluctance. The last time I paid them a visit both children hugged me enthusiastically. They looked healthy and happy. The nightmare of that cold night seemed to have faded from their memories. Somehow the memory has taken longer to fade from mine. On cold nights I often find myself thinking about them and wondering where they are and how they're doing. Thinking about that night reminds me to be grateful. Thinking about the love and loyalty of those two children still warms me....especially on a cold night like this. © Chanti

28 February 2006 80 Filed under: Swim — jank @ 0048 Ever get a wild hair idea that won’t work its way out of your head? In my case, I spent a short while today perusing the Connecticut racing calendar at HiTek Racing. I’ll post the way-long list of stuff I’m interested in later, when I’ve got time to look up races. But the idea that kept springing out at me as something I’d love to do was an Olympic Distance triathlon. What with the Turin games wrapping up last night with the best of all possible endings - a full out sprint to the line taken by an Italian underdog!

Almost as satisfying on XC Skis as it is on bikes. Even if they were skating, which looks as unnatural to me (being raised on classical XC) as me riding a bike looks to the dog. Olympic Distance is, in my mind, a lot like a half-marathon. Long enough to be interesting, but short enough not to leave a duffer like me broken and begging for mercy. 24 miles on the bike - hour, hour and a half depending on terrain. A 10K? After a marathon, even after a slack winter, 6 miles is a fun distance, and do-able even after an hour on the bike. But the mile in the water - pshew. Swimming and me just don’t get along. Likely because I haven’t had any coaching, and am not likely to get any soon. I’d love to, but don’t want to sacrifice anything to get it. Yep, I’m darned to a future of mediocrity in sport, but that’s how I like it. If I can excel as a dad, and do better than most at the office(s), sport is an outlet, not a focus. (I’d rather spend the energy re-learning the piano. Not that there’s much progress there, either. But tonight is about triumph, not bleh, so disregard most of this paragraph) Anyhoo … (more…) Comments (7)

Public Apology Filed under: Rants, admin — jank @ 0036 I’d like to take this space to issue a public apology to Al Trautwig. I took a cheap shot only because I figured VeloNews would publish me. I’m shallow, venal, and really like seeing my name on other people’s web sites. That, and because I endured one too many obvious comment on French culture over the past few Julys. What I failed to grasp until watching the 50K XC final on the Olympics last night is that Al has happily made a career trying to make endurance racing understandable to nonendurance athletes. It’s not a leap a lot of programmers or talent have been willing to make. Watching the 50K, Al’s appreciation for what the skiers were doing was apparent. And if listening to Al gets me more of the content that I want, then I’d listen to Al every Saturday and Sunday during the classics season happily. Doubly so if they keep him on with Bobbke. So, here’s hoping that somehow my apology makes a difference. After the 50K, I’m still glad Al was in Turin. But for a completely different reason.

As a bonus, dig on today’s Frazz: More on Het Volk. Comments (2)

24 February 2006 I’m famous! Filed under: Bike — jank @ 1251 Got an email printed in VeloNews’ Mailbag. (Scroll all the way down) For the record, if Al does come back and it means we get more cycling on TV, I’m all over it. Nothing against the guy ‘cept sheer jealousy. Comments (5)

Favorite Podcasts 23 Feb Filed under: Geek — jank @ 0029 Cory Doctorow’s Craphound.com - The (former) voice of the Electronic Frontier Foundation. Cory Doctorow’s a Canadian. His podcast is usually a read of one of his short stories or novellas. At his website, craphound.com, you can download any of his novels, published under creative commons licenses. He also is one of the folks behind boingboing (dangerous to productivity, and occasionally NSFW-not safe for work). He’s one of those crazy overproductive people. Check this podcast out if you like scifi. Despair.com - bitterly funny. Dilbert without the kindness, or faith in humanity. Escape Pod - More scifi. Occasionally flagged “Mature”, mostly rated R. Great shows in the archive already, including a wonderful one on Free Will, and another great one about exile in time. If you’re interested, drop me a line and I’ll see if I can get URL’s for those. Etherbeat - Ever since Wefunk dropped their podcast (bandwidth issues? Not sure…), I’ve been looking for a daily dose of funk. Etherbeat works. Not quite so well as WEFUNK, but good enough. Wait, Wait, Don’t Tell Me - Weekly News Quiz. Features semi-comics from left and right. You might recognize names such as Tom Bodette, from the Motel 6 commercials, or PJ O’Rourke, from such seminal works of right wing philosophy such as “Age and Guile beat Youth and Innocence” and “A Parliament of Whores” (which should be used as a

standard high school civics text). This show alone is worth donating to your local NPR station. Even if you live outside of the US. Slacker Astronomy - actual PHD astronomers trying to be funny, and giving out decent star advice all at the same time. Entertaining. Bonus star tip - check out Stellarium. It’s an open source and free (as in both speech and beer) planetarium application that runs on OS X, Linux, and another operating system by a little company out of somewhere near Seattle, I think. Great for cloudy (or cold) nights. Lastly, TWIT - The week in tech. Alpha Geeks being geeks. Search the archives for the shows with Steve Wozniak. Priceless. So? What are you listening to? I generally still run to music. The podcasts are great for the commute, when you cannot stand another minute of listening to the news. (thanks to Brogan for sparking this thread) Comments (2)

23 February 2006 Swim Filed under: Rants, Swim — jank @ 2340 Ever have one of those weeks where you just can’t get anything going? That’s what I’m up against right now. Somehow, I feel like I’m occasionally my own worst enemy - too wrapped up feeling sorry for myself to get anything done. Give me rope, and I’m tying metaphysical nooses. It’s a terrible feeling when you realize that the biggest stumbling block remaining in your life, and the source of most of your stress, is yourself. Scratch that. Not terrible. Liberating. All I need to do is figure out how to focus, and I’m Visa, baby - everywhere you want to be. Let’s change that noose into a lasso. I’ve got goals to wrangle. So. Finally got back in the pool tonight for the first time in two weeks. The swimming felt good. Felt smooth. Felt strong. ‘Til I noticed the guy in the next lane, hardly moving, but going way, way, faster than me.

No, it shouldn’t bother me. Not in the slightest. ‘Cause I don’t swim enough to have reason for it to bother me. Plus, the whole “bothered” thing interferes with the whole “Wow, what a great swim” feeling. And y’know what? it doesn’t bother me. ‘Cause one day, perhaps years from now, I’ll be smooth like that. 1500 yards. 35 minutes. Comments (3)

22 February 2006 6 Miles Filed under: Run — jank @ 1414 6 miles on the rail-trail again last night. I took it somewhat easy; still in “recovery” mode after donating blood on Saturday. Took the Forerunner this time to make sure that the folks who built the trail put in the mile markers right. Turns out, they’re pretty darn close. Close enough that I trust them over the Forerunner. (Stupid technology) The final verdict? 6.2 in 54 minutes. 8:45 average pace. I liked it. Not shabby for a lazy afternoon run. No particular insight for today. But whadda ya want for nothing? Rubber biscuit? Want insight? Head over to jeff. Oh, and Jeff? The Felt you’re looking at is well received in Bicycling’s annual buyer’s guide. So get on with it, already. Actually, that brings up something that surprised me - I read through the bike porn for 2006 yesterday evening. Nothing really jumped up and grabbed me. Bicycling kind of summed it up for me - we’re living in a golden age of bikes right now. For just slightly north of a grand, you can get a ride that’ll do for about anything. For over $500, you can get a bike that’ll do for about everything less than Cat III racing. But there was nothing that really made me want to ditch the wife and kids and run down to the store with credit card in hand. I am seriously considering a mountain bike again, though. But I may build it piece by piece. Comments (4)

20 February 2006 Winter Bil-lympics

Filed under: Run, life — jank @ 2151 No, not really. Mostly a photo-journey. Gave blood Saturday. No guilt trip here. OK, a small one - since this is a light race season in most of the country, why not save up to three lives? Plus, it’s a calorie suck. I’d be more energetic about it, but the phlebotomist completely missed my vein this time. Had to dig about. Yuck. Plus, this may be it for me giving blood - they’re testing for an infection passed along by ticks now. And I cannot count the number of ticks I’ve pulled off of me. OK, so Sunday - family swim, and I con the wife into driving the kiddos home while I run home (Isn’t it too cold? Naw, sweetie - I’ve got your love to keep me warm.) So here goes:

(more…) Comments (4)

17 February 2006 Meme ‘o’ riffic Filed under: memes — jank @ 1216 From Deene: 1. Do you have good hand-eye coordination? Depends. 2. Have you ever held a gun? Yes. For both work and leisure. 3. What do you think of toy guns? Kind of up-in-the-air about them. On one hand, they’re cool. On the other hand, we live in New England now, and they’re kind of socially unacceptable. On the third hand, I’ve got two boys, and have found, that, even without any actual toy guns in the house, there’s a lot of stuff that can stand in for guns. Actually, even without the house, there’s a lot of stuff that could be guns. Like fingers. 4. When is the last time you asked for forgiveness? Yesterday? Man. I dunno. Sorry. 5. Your favorite Aerosmith song: Walk this way, but the Run DMC version Comments (1)

Really Interesting Tandem Filed under: Bike — jank @ 0943 I really liked this tandem, which puts the stroker (is that the right word?) up in front, and has the controls in the back seat. From Velorution, where I’m sure I’d spend tons of cash if I lived in London. From the review: The most distinctive feature of the Ronald Tandem is the fact that person steering the tandem sits on the back seat and the ‘passenger’ is in the front seat. … Although I have not tested it I assume that when one substitutes the front seat with a carrier box, one would have a very manoeuvrable and convenient shopping bicycle. UPDATE (From Fixedgear) Terminology: On a conventional tandem the person who sits in front and steers/shifts/brakes is called the captain the the rear seat is occupied by the stoker. This bike has the captain i the rear and the stoker up front. So does the Bilenky Viewpoint, where the stoker is in front and recumbent and the captain is in the rear and upright. Oh yeah, if you have a triple (three seat bike) the person who occupies the middle seat is called the midshipman. Seriously. Comments (2)

Winter? What winter? Filed under: Run — jank @ 0050 50 degrees and sunny today. Wasn’t there something white and cold last weekend? Dunno why, but I was going stir crazy this afternoon at the office. So, I split a little early (I’ll be in early tomorrow). MAN, what a day! Thought about stopping on Jamestown to run out to the lighthouse, but, being somewhat on a schedule, I hit the Kingstown Rail-Trail again. I’m really digging that path. Still not sure quite why. But I’m not going to fight it, since I’m really, really getting back into running. So whatever keeps me turning over the feet I’m going to keep doing. Parked, put the Forerunner on top of the car to sync with the satellites, and fiddled around getting dressed, etc. Grabed the Nano, fired up the stopwatch, and started jogging. 52 seconds to Mile 0.

The trail was pretty much snow-free today. Blew by the Mile 1 marker and forgot to mark the lap. About a quarter mile past, a couple of boys were getting on bikes and riding the way I was heading. So, of course, I chased. Man, the legs were good today. One of those days where you can run faster and faster, and not hurt, not run short of breath. Where it’s possible to just keep running. Hit the mile 2 marker in 16:32 - not so bad; 8:15’s… Since I had a little time, I decided to go 6 miles instead of four or five. The kids were still riding away; I kicked it up and kept running. 7:45 for mile 3. Fired up U2’s “Vertigo.” Kept hitting the back button as the song finished - when there’s a groove, there’s a groove. Holy Crap! I said. I can’t remember the last time I did a mile under 8 minutes. WoW! Turned around, kind of determined to just cruise back to the car. I’d just busted out the quickest 3 miles I’ve done in months, and was happy. At the 4 mile marker, lap time was 8:18. Nice and relaxing somehow. Even though I was going faster than I thought I could sustain prior to starting the run. Mile 5: 8:04, even though I was making a concerted effort to hold back a bit. Last mile, I said “OK, why not?” Last mile, I went ahead and blew it out. 7:52. Pshew. What a run. Did a little pilates themed stretching, and headed home. 6.2 miles, 50 minutes. Not bad at all… Technorati Tags: North Kingston, rail trail, running, trails

Comments (1)

April 27, 2007 Not dead; still riding Filed under: Admin, General — Rockjaw @ 10:29 pm Well hey. Umm, so. Thanks to Leon for reminding me this blog exists. I hadn’t forgotten, really, but I’d certainly let it lie fallow. Quite a lot happened, too, in the biking sense, and in a small way I feel a little bad about it. But let’s review. When I last wrote it was October - October 4th, to be precise. Right then I’d clocked up 186.9 miles total on the bike since I bought it. As of today I’ve amassed 461.7 miles, so 274.8 more miles than last time I checked. So yeah. Still riding.

Truth is I kind of got bored writing about the same ride almost every day, but after I got out of the habit of posting, I just figured I didn’t need to post. When I read back over some of these entries though, I can see that there’s a style of writing here that I don’t normally do. So, perhaps not such a bad idea for me to continue to post, on occasion. Last six months though, in a choppy, stream-of-consciousness sentence: puncture, pump, winter, New Year’s resolutions, new lights, night riding, broken spokes, new wheels, Undercliff Walk, biking partner (occasional). Oh, and I didn’t enter the London to Brighton bike ride this year. I’m so not ready. Next year? Maybe. Reading all that back I know there were definitely tales to tell, so I promise I’ll try and tell them a bit more often. Just don’t expect a daily version of the same “I biked to Hove and back for 30 minutes of exercise” story… ta. Comments (0)

October 4, 2006 A bad dream Filed under: Rides — Rockjaw @ 8:12 am Fairly average ride this morning, started early thanks to a buzzsaw waking me up at 6:30am (when it’s actually still dark, surprisingly…). The person using that saw better have been cutting a mother and child loose from a burning car, instead of - say constructing shelves, that’s all I can say. Anyway, average enough ride, same morning route down the seafront, but this time I pushed out a little further just to ensure I made five miles total (I’ve been a little under recently). I was listening to Keane’s Under the Iron Sea at the time, specifically a track called ‘A Bad Dream’ which is a fairly melodic, soothing sort of tune - the kind of stuff I like, thangyew - but it has a nice soaring orchestral ending. As I stopped to swig some water I turned back to look at Brighton centre, facing east, and on cue a fantastic sunrise stopped me cold. Various clouds were strewn across the sun, which was bursting through at the edges, leaving a multi-coloured orange sky below it. With Brighton’s seafront skyline below it, the sea to one side, and foreground details like wheeling gulls and of course, other bikers… plus my musical accompaniment… it was a sunrise to remember. Of course, I didn’t have the camera with me…. Comments (2)

October 2, 2006 It doesn’t always feel great Filed under: Rides — Rockjaw @ 8:31 am After my near-existential pep talk to myself yesterday, naturally I don’t go out on the bike. I did get other stuff done, stuff I’ve been putting off (It’s remarkable how prevaricating over one thing you don’t want to do will get your priorities straight) but I didn’t go out. I told myself it was because it was too windy, and I wasn’t entirely wrong - hearing the wind shriek around the flat, and then having difficulty remaining upright as we walked down Middle Street towards the front, with the wind threatening to flatten us, made me think I’d made a wise choice. Regardless, last night I told myself I was going to have no excuse this morning. So when the alarm went off and I slapped it quiet, wondering if I’d really slept for eight hours, I quickly dismissed the naysaying part of me and went out before I persuaded myself otherwise. The first inkling that this was going to be a tough ride happened when I hit the first street, and felt a gust that was much stronger than normal. By the time I got to the seafront though, that’s when I knew I was in trouble. Whitecaps were surging past each other in an effort to reach the shore, jostling for position as I sat at the lights waiting to cross, then seeing the green man and wondering if I should. I got across, turned right… and rode into a wall of wind. (more…) Comments (0)

October 1, 2006 Meta-exercise Filed under: General — Rockjaw @ 9:38 am I should be on the bike instead of writing this post. Should. Okay, so I choose not to be on the bike… and I choose to write this, instead. I went on an internal training course a month or so ago that emphasised one very good point - that everything we do is a personal choice, and that everything we don’t do is a choice, too. The thinking is that you have to take responsibility for your actions, and

‘own’ them. This (in theory) breaks you out of a value-based cycle of “I should do this” and “I suck because I didn’t do that”. Which is how I feel right now. Two reasons: 1. I haven’t been out on the bike since Tuesday. 2. I just looked at my log of cycling for September, and saw I’d ‘only’ done four hours total. I can justify all this in my mind. But I choose, instead, to feel shit about it. This is my life, ladies and gents. A long slow process of internal criticism. It gets tiresome. The one thing I will say - mostly to myself - is that I have to remember that the longer I leave it, the harder it is to get back on the bike. But when I get back on, you have always remembered immediately that it feels great. Always. Go. Ride the bike. Comments (0)

September 26, 2006 Minimalist Filed under: Rides — Rockjaw @ 8:30 am Asleep Road closed Freshly shampooed hair on the wind Biking in formation; a bike ballet? Let’s all break the law Down to the promenade A smile from an old man Fenced-in seating A sun through misty clouds Tattoos on both legs, camo shorts above

Grim-faced bikers Pissing off a Land Rover at the lights Home again, time to spare Comments (0)

September 24, 2006 Flying with flies Filed under: Rides — Rockjaw @ 6:00 pm The average speed of a fly - which variety, I can’t begin to tell you - is apparently somewhere around 16mph. I know this because I was overtaking them on my ride yesterday, and boy did it feel good. On my ride last Saturday (the first since I’d gotten back in the country) I had my first encounter with the flies of late summer. While I’d love to tell you the entomological reason for their sudden and proliferous apperance, all I know is they were all intent on flying into me like little kamikaze pilots. Maybe it had something to do with the white tshirt I had on, maybe I was biking upstream through some seaside fly convention; all I know is I was slapping them away, shooing them off my person and at least once, spitting them out as I rode. Pfooie. Yesterday though, I was burning past them like a drag racer with his eyes on the finish line. I’d skipped Thursday and Friday’s morning rides, as you might have seen,so I was determined I was going to make up for it on Saturday. Having negotiated a later start for our outing to the Duke of York’s Picturehouse, I saddled up around 12 and headed out. Fantastic day for it. Regardless of the subject matter of that afternoon’s movie, you can’t deny we’re getting fine weather these days… let’s just enjoy it before we all end up cooked to a crisp. Last week, as I totally failed to tell you, I rode the entire length of the Undercliff Walk, going from Madeira Drive down past the Marina, on to Rottingdean and then beyond. It’s a few miles (nope, I don’t watch the mileometer from point to point, generally) and it’s a great ride. Pretty much entirely flat, with wide open paths. It’s quickly become my new favourite place to ride in Brighton, so I headed for it again yesterday. Uneventful enough ride on the way out, although as luck would have it I was generally heading into the wind, which meant I knew I was in for an easy return journey. I finally remembered to take my camera with me, so took some shots on the way out that I’ll present in another post.

When the walk finally gave out I paused, took a few swigs of squash, took a few photos and then headed back. The weird thing I noticed was that with the wind at my back, it really didn’t even feel like there was a wind there. But I could sure see it on my speedo. With a little effort I clicked up through the gears and actually cracked 20mph at one point - a record for me on flat. That was when I noticed the flies. At first it felt like I had an escort, as these things were buzzing along right beside me; but then as I passed through 16mph and beyond they fell away, one after the other. It was sort of surreal keeping pace with the same things that had been randomly colliding with me last week, but it made me feel a bit ‘one with nature’ all the same. I ended up behind two female bikers back along the walk, one of whom could really have done with investing in mudguards, judging by the chalky mud all over her back. I had plenty on the bike too, but thankfully pretty much none on me. With the wind behind me I was home soon, and happy I went out. Comments (0)

September 22, 2006 Dagnabit weather Filed under: General — Rockjaw @ 8:31 am I feel like a chump. Yesterday morning was glorious sunshine, and I didn’t go out because on Wednesday night, I felt knackered enough that I figured I deserved a lie-in. Last night? Rainstorms. This morning? Still raining and still cold. So no riding, after I told myself that I would go out. I am a wuss. But I am a dry, warm wuss…. Comments (1)

September 20, 2006 Third time’s the charm Filed under: Rides — Rockjaw @ 8:40 am I really felt like lying in today. Just because I could. Now that I’ve almost established a routine with this morning ride thing, my natural inclination is to break that routine; I am the greatest saboteur of anything good for me. So when I woke, I almost went straight back to sleep, reasoning that, you know… sleep feels

good. I stumbled out of bed, telling myself I was just taking a piss. Then I looked out the window, checking for any sign - at all - that the weather would make riding unpleasant. Damn those blue Brighton skies. I guess it’s a toss up between good weather and my immense personal character as to which got me outside today. No music this morning, just the remainder of a podcast I was listening to last night, and a solemn compromise to myself - take it easy. No headlong struggles into the wind, no frantic, devil-may-care spurts of speed. It worked, too; gave me time to think, which became very self-reflective - I distinctly remember thinking about writing about the process of writing about what I was doing, which tied me into a mental knot for a second. And does even now. I was slow and steady heading down to the beach, and quite happy to bunch up behind another rider, matching his relaxed pace on the first stretch towards Hove. Eventually I decided to vary my route, and be a bit naughty (along with half-a-dozen other riders ignoring the ‘No Cycling’ signs on the promenade). That’s when I really woke up, as I crossed paths with a leash strung between a lean greyhound lookalike and its bright red haired owner. Apart from that, it was an unremarkable ride on a pleasant morning. Back home inside 30 minutes, to find a construction crew who started tearing up our street with pneumatic drills before I could finish this. Probably a blessing that I didn’t lie in, after all. Comments (0)

September 19, 2006 Tuesday morning, feeling groovy Filed under: Rides — Rockjaw @ 8:35 am I didn’t expect to be able to get out of bed to go for a ride today. That’ll be because last night, in what can only be described as ‘the most exercise I’ve had in a single day for a long time’ I ended up playing five-a-side football for two hours. (Aside: for about a year, a group of fairly regular attendees at work have been playing five-a-side footie indoors at BHASVIC every Monday night. Some of us are totally crap (me), some of us are pretty darn good, but overall we field reasonably balanced teams, and have a good laugh. That’s the only reason I go; if anyone started to take it too seriously, I wouldn’t bother. End aside.) After hoofing around the pitch and gaining two shiny blisters on my feet for my trouble, I was barely able to walk home. (Amanda attributes this to a lack of stretching, which might be true, but I like to think the five mile ride had something to do with it; I was

creaky before I left the office to play.) Long story short, I figured I’d wake up this morning feeling like a plank of wood. Long story shorter, I didn’t, and I ended up doing 7.6 miles, instead of my expected five. Cold morning, at least until I warmed up, and I kicked off with Jimmy Eat World’s A Praise Chorus, which is about as religious as rock ‘n’ roll gets. It was cold enough and I was tired enough that I ended up blinking sleep tears out of my eyes, which would have made me a sight to see if anyone had been around. It did also make me a rolling traffic hazard as I couldn’t see, but a surreptitious wipe helped that. Yesterday I cycled right, so today I went left along the seafront - Madeira Drive, which was surprisingly busy with cyclists and peds. I only realised why a little later; if you’re cycling along the clifftop (mad with cars) Madeira Drive must seem like paradise. It was such an easy ride down to the Marina I figured I’d keep going, considering my clock was only at eight minutes or so… kind of a mistake. I continued on past the Marina and out onto the Undercliff Walk, which thanks to persistent mud and some sort of chalky residue, is about the closest I get to off-road biking. The ride was remarkably easy, and I opened up on the flat, by-the-sea section, getting past 18mph. At one point I passed a guy cycling in the opposite direction who looked damn tired and fairly pissed off, but I paid him no mind. Then I turned around. Of course. I’d been riding with a tailwind behind me. Shit. That early ‘lead’ I’d had on my projected 30 minutes riding time evaporated as I rode into the wind all the way back to the pier, struggling to get above 12mph and usually hovering around 11. Surprisingly I overtook the same cyclist on the way back, who probably really hated me by now. Apart from a near miss with another cyclist (Sorry lady, I was looking at traffic) the rest of the ride was uneventful, and not as taxing as all that when I got out of the wind. Nevertheless… next time? Check the wind, Stephen. Comments (0)

September 18, 2006 In the morning Filed under: Rides — Rockjaw @ 8:11 am It’s getting darker in the evenings. I don’t want to become a night biker (although at some point, I will buy myself some lights). I need to get out on the bike more. I can’t leave work early. Hence, the decision to get up early and do some riding.

Wasn’t exactly all my idea, to be honest; Amanda said it first. Of course just because someone suggests something doesn’t mean you immediately do it. I think it was only when I started looking outside at 6pm and seeing the sun was down, and on weekends realising I’d have to get onto the bike pre-4pm for the chance of getting a ride in before dusk… that’s when I sighed and realised I had no choice. So, alarm goes off at 7am this morning, I roll out of bed and peer out the window. It looks kinda grey, and feels kinda cold, so I pull out a long-sleeved t-shirt (that I really didn’t want to sweat in, to be honest) and put it on with everything else. Keep 50p in my pocket for any potential nightmare scenario phonecalls (”Hon? I got sideswiped and the bike’s totalled… I’m okay… just send a cab for me, okay?”) and nip downstairs. I’m on the road at 7:15, with Razorlight’s In the Morning making me smile, in a why-the-hell-am-Idoing-this way. First thing to realise… Brighton streets certainly aren’t empty at 7am. They’re quiet, but there’s a steady stream of folks walking up our street to the station; London commuters, on the way to the station, I guess. I’m blinking sleep out of my eyes and avoiding dogwalkers, questioning myself all the way to the seafront, but then I hit a series of good curves and small downhill stretches and feel the way anyone does when they let gravity work for you; great. The sea’s a little choppy this morning, grey with white caps, and the wind feels strong but I manage to keep up a good pace. At least, what I feel like is a good pace for 20 minutes out of bed. There’s a steady string of bikes passing me in the opposite direction, and I even go past a girl looking like she’s struggling more than me. But she’s smiling. Interesting mix of bikers, though. Most of them look like commuters, judging by dress, and I wonder if they’re on their way to a really distant office (Rottingdean?) or if they’re just early starters. (One of our office biking types is always in before 8:30am.) I see a few training types; one pensioner in full-on racing gear, and one other guy who could be my identikit twin - shorts, t-shirt, bike helmet, glasses, pained expression on his labouring face. Add a ginger-ish beard and we’d be separated at birth. In my mind I’ve told myself that ten miles is out of the question this early in the day. For one thing I know that my usual hour-long round trip will take another hour to cool down from, and that’s not time I can afford. I figure that five miles will do it, so I pause at the bandstand near the Leisure Centre, turn and look back at the seafront. Light is breaking through the clouds in a sunburst, not only warming me for the first time but again reminding me that I really do need to take a camera when riding. I watch it become less spectacular for a few minutes, then head home. Razorlight are singing Back to the Start on my headphones as I round the last couple of corners.