We had an unwontedly social weekend, Dr B and I. He went to a school reunion on Saturday, I to a reunion with some old workmates on Sunday. Perhaps a common theme might be cycling. Dr B and Mate E are both motorcyclists and Mate E was a cyclist back in the day. Dr B, as you would know, still is.
My group of former workmates also have cycling fixations. We’re of an age where health considerations are more prominent than they might have been when we first met each other a very long time ago indeed, so fitness is also a large theme in our conversations.
One is married to a former professional cyclist and cycles a lot herself. Others of the group cycle for pleasure – pleasure, they say; and they don’t, at first blush, appear to be masochists – and generally can’t understand why everyone else isn’t the same; indeed, how anyone could not enjoy cycling. Most of the others – notice I say most but not all – are of the view, “How could you fall off a bike?” When that comment was made to the other member of the group who’s like me, my immediate response in her defence – and my own, of course – was, “How could you not?”
Even professional cyclists fall off occasionally (just think of some of the spectacular spills we see annually in any of the Tours). How many kilometres of road have they travelled? How vastly more than simply competent are they? How experienced? How careful and clever? And still they have accidents. So, please, just leave us poor non-cyclists to our walking and running pursuits. We have enough falls in those arenas without adding the element of greater speed to the equation!