Taster

Last time the local cycle club ran a taster session no one new turned up. The weather was to blame. It was arranged for a  few weeks back, and was the same day as my mosaics course (which was my excuse for not being there) – but it  was also the day that Oxfordshire had a complete downpour of heavy heavy rain.

So this Saturday I was honour bound to turn up for the next taster session, despite the fact it was the day after an exhaustingly enjoyable trip to the Chelsea Flower Show, followed that evening by hosting a dinner party for 10 (and having maybe one more drink that was advisable for an early-ish start.)
Thing is that the clubs rides normally start at 9am and we had a 6 mile ride to get there, so the alarm was duly set and zombie fashion I got up, donned Lycra, rehydrated and breakfasted.
It was only as we drew up to the station (meeting point) that Cycloman groaned.

“What?”

“I’ve just remembered -”

“What?”

“The taster ride…. I said we’d start at 9.30.”

“Hm.”

(‘Hm’ can say a lot. There wasn’t much point making a song and dance about it. )

So we had 40 minutes of waiting around, during which time the warmth I had worked up in the 6 miles to get there evaporated. I really started to wish I had worn my long cycling gear rather than shorts.
We met up with the A team teeing up for their 9 am departure: a group of fit and healthy folk aged from 17 up to probably 60 – ish, mainly men and a few women, who we’d next see at the coffee stop. As we waited for stragglers I chatted to a couple of the guys: an Antipodean who had some riding experience in the past and is just getting back in the saddle and a chap who said cycling had helped him drop 7 stone last year. Impressive.

This weeks taster ride drew in a few other completely new folk and a couple of newish people who hadn’t done much riding, or at least riding in a group. Cycloman had planned a ride of about 30 miles. He started with a short talk on how to cycle ‘en masse‘ and words of general encouragement. It was a blustery day, and occasionally there was a small spit of rain in the wind, but that was all.

The journey out was OK. I met some interesting people, and I learned a lot about the hand signals and the vocabulary used in group riding. The group is supposed to stay in a tight bunch, those in the slip stream benefiting from the leaders’ efforts – but this means the riders behind have little time to react to road hazards… and there are plenty of those, what with broken road edges, pot holes, parked cars, horses and dropped branches.
A system of hand signals and shouts has developed. I didn’t realise that when I scratched my back those behind thought I was indicating a hazard on the kerb side and swerved out to avoid the non-existent obstacle. I’ll know next time. ‘Car up’ and ‘car down’ was shouted depending on mode of travel and ‘clear left’ ‘clear right’ at junctions. At one point someone had a puncture and that gave us a short break as it was fixed and during that time the numbness in my feet wore off, until we started up again.

I don’t know what it is about my feet and cycling. They go numb. Completely numb. Different shoes give a slightly different effect, so I think it must be due to pressure somewhere, but haven’t worked out where exactly… but it is rather disconcerting and enough to put me off at times. Maybe it could be saddle position? Maybe its the straps on the shoes? Something wrong with my anatomy?

We reached the coffee destination where the A group were already queuing and I took off the shoes. I made the most of my position of ‘wife’ and ‘newbie’ allowing – no encouraging – my husband to stand in the queue for coffee and cake while I massaged my toes back to life. The little coffee shop was completely full of chatting Lycra’d people and the smell of fresh sweat.

The return journey back was tougher… I was tired and the wind was buffeting. We stopped for a pint in the pub about 8 miles from home and after that Cycloman and I left the group for saddle adjustment, and then to cycle home – slowly.

All together we had done 44 miles.

Yesterday Cycloman did 88.

Author: Sarah

No time to lose. No, time to lose. Make time to stand and stare.... Did you see that? View all posts by Sarah