the boy on the bicycle

8/14/2019 The Boy on the Bicycle

1/22

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 thelaborious task of checking through page after page offigures. The uncharacteristic silence was accentuated bythe steady buzz of computer equipment and the occasionaltapping of my fingers upon a keyboard. A sharp rapping atthe window startled me. I jumped and my heartbeatquickened but when I looked up to see who had knocked Idiscovered with relief that it was only a small boy. Thereflection of light upon the glass made it difficult for me to

make out his features and so I stood up and impulsivelyopened the window, thinking, 'What on earth is a childdoing here at this time of night?' As I squinted through theopen window, I noticed that he was barefoot and woreshorts and a scruffy shirt. It struck me that he must befreezing. It was a bitterly cold night.
http://www.authorsden.com/ShortStoryImage/16997.jpg


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I let him inside and was overcome with a pity on seeing thepathetic state of the poor child. His little hands and feetwere literally blue with cold and the skin on his legs wasmottled. His knees were encrusted with scabs. I noticed that

he had large grey eyes and a spattering of freckles on hisdirty face.

I took my warm wool jacket off and draped it over his skinnyshoulders and made him sit close to the radiator while Imade hot tea. I watched while he sipped upon the steamingbeverage until the shivers subsided before asking him whatI could do to help. He looked at me with the pathetic look ofa small puppy and replied, 'Thank you lady. I need a lifthome. 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 soworried."

I asked him what he was doing out so late and he told methat he washed cars to make money to support his family.He had cycled far from home to reach a more affluent areawhere he was likely to make more money. He had tried tocycle home again but had got lost. I asked him what area helived in and he told me that he lived in Newlands, an areaon the rougher side of town crammed with ramshackle

houses. I was stunned at how far such a small boy hadcycled. When I asked him how old he was I was surprised tolearn that he was eleven. I had guessed that he was aroundeight years of age based on his size.

I promised him that I would drive him home and afterpacking up, we left the office together and walked to mycar. Fortunately we were able to fit his small bicycle into thetrunk. On the long drive to his neighbourhood, I questionedhim. He told me that he had a little sister who stayed homeand took care of his ailing mother. Neither of the childrenwent to school. I wondered if his mother was sick or if shewas a drunk or worse. What caring mother would let hersmall child work to support her, especially dressed as hewas.


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Finally we arrived in Newlands and the boy was able todirect me to his house. The dark streets, unlit bystreetlights, turned shadows into imaginary or maybe not soimaginary 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 ofpaper and plastic into the air in a desolate dance.

Eventually he signalled for me to stop and I pulled over, myheadlights illuminating a box-like structure that passed for ahouse. I helped him hoist his bicycle out of my trunk andgently but firmly insisted I go in with him. I wanted to meethis mother.

Entering that house was quite a shock. It was dingy and theonly form of lighting came from a paraffin lamp flickering onthe kitchen table. I was moved with compassion and thisemotion only intensified when a little girl that looked to bearound six years of age rushed up to greet her brother. Shewas also barefoot and wore a small dress made of a flimsymaterial that had been darned in many places. I felt angryat the state of these two children and became determinedto 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 herbut both the children shook their heads vehemently andbegged me to let her rest. I asked if I could at least see herand promised them I wouldn't wake her and they finallyrelented. I was sure I'd smell the stench of alcohol. I hadconvinced myself that their mother was either a drunk or adrug addict. I was unprepared for what I'd see in the tinyroom I was led to. The woman was skeletal and holloweyed. She lay on a dirty mattress with a single blanketwrapped around her bony frame. I did not smell alcohol butthere was an unmistakable stench of decay in that room - aliving death. I wondered for a moment if in fact she wasdead but when I heard the rattling of her breath I realizedthat although she was critically ill and probably on death'sdoor, she was still alive.


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"What is wrong with her?" I whispered. The boy looked atme with large sad eyes and said, "She's got AIDS" I gaspedin shock at the revelation (even more so at his knowledge ofit) and asked him why she was not in a hospital. He shared

that she had been but that she had been sent homebecause the hospital couldn't help her. It seemedinconceivable to me that a woman who was clearly dyingcould be sent home to waste away in front of her twochildren. I learnt that their father had disappeared yearsbefore. They did not seem to have other relatives andneither 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 madethat day from his car washing and told me that he was

saving up for a warm comforter for his mother. Bothchildren slept on a mattress in the same room as theirmother.

I told the children that I'd come back the next morning tosee them and made the boy promise he would not goanywhere until I returned. For a brief moment I consideredtaking them home with me but I knew that they'd refuse toleave their mother and I would not have known how toexplain 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 takenher back to the hospital and insisted they help her?

Thoughts milled through my mind as tears finally spilledfrom my eyes and poured unchecked down my cheeks.

I spent a restless night tossing and turning in my warmcomfortable bed, unable to sleep with disturbing imageshaunting my dreams. As the sun rose, I got up and dressed.I rifled through cupboards and pulled out blankets andtowels. I found a bag of my children's old clothing, grateful Ihadn't gotten round to giving them away. I packed all ofthese onto the back seat of my car and then filled the bootwith groceries from my own cupboards and all my stock ofcandles. I collect candles and so had a formidablecollection. There was a niggling thought that I should be


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reporting the state of these children to child welfare andgetting them into foster care but I knew that they would notagree to leave their ailing mother and I determined to try tohelp them as best I could. I also made up my mind to get in

touch with welfare organizations to see what help could beoffered the poor woman.

I drove back to Newlands but although I remembered thestreet I had driven to the night before, I could not for the lifeof me remember where the house was located. I certainlywould not have recognized it even if I saw it. There were nonumbers on the houses and they all looked so similar. Icursed for not having paid closer attention to where I haddriven when I saw the boy cycling down the road toward

me. I breathed a sigh of relief and pulled over as he cycledup to me."I thought I told you not to go anywhere." I chided with asmile."I've got to buy some bread and milk" he replied quicklyand then smiled broadly when I told him that I had broughtplenty of food with me."Gee thanks Lady.""You're welcome. Now lead me back to your house willyou?"

He nodded, turned his bicycle around and cycled furiouslyup the road until finally he pulled into the yard of thedecrepit box of a house that was his home.

I entered through the kitchen, carrying boxes of food andsupplies. I was once again struck by the abject poverty ofthis family. I found the place depressing and an odious smellseemed to permeate throughout. The little girl had madesome attempt to clean up with a dirty rag but withoutproper cleaning materials she was not able to make muchof a difference. I made a mental note to bring furthersupplies at my next visit. Both children helped me unpackthe groceries with such excitement it was as if I had broughtthem Christmas gifts. Their excitement and jubilationbrought tears to my eyes again but I blinked them back. Ididn't want them to know how deeply their plight touched


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me. These two children did not know what it was to have anormal childhood. They had no grassy lawn on which toplay, no trees to climb and no toys. Other than the boy's oldbicycle, there was not a single bit of evidence that children

inhabited this place.

After we had unpacked all of the supplies I asked if theirmother was awake."She's still sleeping. Sshhh," said the little girl with a fingerpressed to her lips."Are you sure? Would you mind if I checked?"When I entered the room again I noticed that she was lyingon her side and not on her back, as she had been when Ifirst saw her. Her body barely made a dent on the bed it

was so tiny almost childlike. I tiptoed around the bed andthen looked down at her face. Her hair was wispy and hercheekbones sharp. They looked almost as though theycould pierce her skin, a skin that was surprisingly smoothbut completely devoid of colour. There was a line of droolhanging from her mouth. I listened for the raspy sound ofbreath and when I heard none I gently touched her shoulderwith my hand. She was rigidly cold to the touch. It dawnedon me with ice shock that she was dead and had been sofor hours (in all likelihood she had died just after I'd left the

night before). My heart sunk in those seconds I stood withmy hand upon her frail shoulder my mind spinning as Ipondered what I would tell the children. It seemed to bemore than a coincidence that the little boy had knocked onmy window the night before. Was it providential that I hadbeen around at the right time? I wondered about whatwould have happened had I not decided to work late thatnight or if the boy hadn't knocked on my window. Wherewould these children have turned when their mother died?All these questions whirled around in my mind but the mostpressing one was how I was going to break the news to thetwo children. They were right at that moment excitedlymaking a meal for their beloved mother with the supplies Ihad brought them.

I had never spoken to the woman and yet I felt an


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indescribable sadness at her death. I marvelled at the loveand loyalty of her two children who had at great personalsacrifice taken care of her as best they could.

After their mother's death, the children were placed in achildren's home and I visited them regularly until they wereplaced into foster care. I was told at that point that it wasbest that I allow them to adapt to their new surroundings. Itwas suggested that my presence could be a distraction andalthough I didn't agree I acquiesced with reluctance. Thelast time I paid them a visit both children hugged meenthusiastically. They looked healthy and happy. Thenightmare of that cold night seemed to have faded fromtheir memories. Somehow the memory has taken longer to

fade from mine. On cold nights I often find myself thinkingabout them and wondering where they are and how they'redoing.

Thinking about that night reminds me to be grateful.Thinking about the love and loyalty of those two childrenstill 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 wont work its way out of your head?

In my case, I spent a short while today perusing the Connecticut racing calendar at HiTekRacing. Ill post the way-long list of stuff Im interested in later, when Ive got time tolook up races. But the idea that kept springing out at me as something Id love to do wasan Olympic Distance triathlon. What with the Turin games wrapping up last night withthe best of all possible endings - a full out sprint to the line taken by an Italian underdog!
http://runmystic.jankowskis.net/?p=400http://runmystic.jankowskis.net/?cat=3http://runmystic.jankowskis.net/?cat=3http://www.hitekracing.com/calendar/http://www.hitekracing.com/calendar/http://runmystic.jankowskis.net/?p=400http://runmystic.jankowskis.net/?cat=3http://www.hitekracing.com/calendar/http://www.hitekracing.com/calendar/


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Almost as satisfying on XC Skis as it is on bikes. Even if they were skating, which looksas 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 beinteresting, 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 amarathon, even after a slack winter, 6 miles is a fun distance, and do-able even after anhour on the bike.

But the mile in the water - pshew. Swimming and me just dont get along. Likely becauseI havent had any coaching, and am not likely to get any soon. Id love to, but dont wantto sacrifice anything to get it. Yep, Im darned to a future of mediocrity in sport, but thatshow I like it. If I can excel as a dad, and do better than most at the office(s), sport is anoutlet, not a focus. (Id rather spend the energy re-learning the piano. Not that theresmuch progress there, either. But tonight is about triumph, not bleh, so disregard most ofthis paragraph)

Anyhoo (more)

Comments (7)

Public Apology

Filed under:Rants, admin jank @ 0036

Id like to take this space to issue a public apology to Al Trautwig. I took a cheap shotonly because I figured VeloNews would publish me. Im shallow, venal, and really like

seeing my name on other peoples web sites. That, and because I endured one too manyobvious 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 thatAl has happily made a career trying to make endurance racing understandable to non-endurance athletes. Its not a leap a lot of programmers or talent have been willing tomake.

Watching the 50K, Als appreciation for what the skiers were doing was apparent. And iflistening to Al gets me more of the content that I want, then Id listen to Al everySaturday and Sunday during the classics season happily. Doubly so if they keep him on

with Bobbke.

So, heres hoping that somehow my apology makes a difference. After the 50K, Im stillglad Al was in Turin. But for a completely different reason.
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As a bonus, dig on todays Frazz:

More on Het Volk.

Comments (2)

24 February 2006

Im 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, Im all

over it. Nothing against the guy cept sheer jealousy.

Comments (5)

Favorite Podcasts 23 Feb

Filed under:Geek jank @ 0029

Cory Doctorows Craphound.com - The (former) voice of the Electronic FrontierFoundation. Cory Doctorows a Canadian. His podcast is usually a read of one of hisshort stories or novellas. At his website, craphound.com, you can download any of his

novels, published undercreative commons licenses. He also is one of the folks behindboingboing (dangerous to productivity, and occasionally NSFW-not safe for work). Hesone of those crazy overproductive people. Check this podcast out if you like scifi.

Despair.com- bitterly funny. Dilbertwithout the kindness, or faith in humanity.

Escape Pod - More scifi. Occasionally flagged Mature, mostly rated R. Great shows inthe archive already, including a wonderful one on Free Will, and another great one aboutexile in time. If youre interested, drop me a line and Ill see if I can get URLs for those.

Etherbeat - Ever since Wefunkdropped their podcast (bandwidth issues? Not sure),

Ive been looking for a daily dose of funk. Etherbeat works. Not quite so well asWEFUNK, but good enough.

Wait, Wait, Dont 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 PJORourke, from such seminal works of right wing philosophy such as Age and Guilebeat Youth and Innocence and A Parliament of Whores (which should be used as a
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Omloop_%22Het_Volk%22http://runmystic.jankowskis.net/?p=399#commentshttp://runmystic.jankowskis.net/?p=398http://runmystic.jankowskis.net/?cat=4http://runmystic.jankowskis.net/?cat=4http://www.velonews.com/news/fea/9538.0.htmlhttp://runmystic.jankowskis.net/?p=398#commentshttp://runmystic.jankowskis.net/?p=397http://runmystic.jankowskis.net/?cat=16http://runmystic.jankowskis.net/?cat=16http://feeds.feedburner.com/doctorow_podcasthttp://www.eff.org/http://www.eff.org/http://www.craphound.com/http://creativecommons.org/http://www.boingboing.net/http://spin.despair.com/podcast/podcast.xmlhttp://spin.despair.com/podcast/podcast.xmlhttp://www.dilbert.com/http://www.dilbert.com/http://escape.extraneous.org/podcast.xmlhttp://www.etherbeat.com/podcast/itunes160.xmlhttp://www.wefunkradio.com/http://www.npr.org/rss/podcast.php?id=35http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Omloop_%22Het_Volk%22http://runmystic.jankowskis.net/?p=399#commentshttp://runmystic.jankowskis.net/?p=398http://runmystic.jankowskis.net/?cat=4http://www.velonews.com/news/fea/9538.0.htmlhttp://runmystic.jankowskis.net/?p=398#commentshttp://runmystic.jankowskis.net/?p=397http://runmystic.jankowskis.net/?cat=16http://feeds.feedburner.com/doctorow_podcasthttp://www.eff.org/http://www.eff.org/http://www.craphound.com/http://creativecommons.org/http://www.boingboing.net/http://spin.despair.com/podcast/podcast.xmlhttp://www.dilbert.com/http://escape.extraneous.org/podcast.xmlhttp://www.etherbeat.com/podcast/itunes160.xmlhttp://www.wefunkradio.com/http://www.npr.org/rss/podcast.php?id=35


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standard high school civics text). This show alone is worth donating to your local NPRstation. Even if you live outside of the US.

Slacker Astronomy - actual PHD astronomers trying to be funny, and giving out decentstar advice all at the same time. Entertaining. Bonus star tip - check out Stellarium. Its an

open source and free (as in both speech and beer) planetarium application that runs on OSX, Linux, and another operating system by a little company out of somewhere nearSeattle, I think. Great for cloudy (or cold) nights.

Lastly, TWIT - The week in tech. Alpha Geeks being geeks. Search the archives for theshows with Steve Wozniak. Priceless.

So? What are you listening to? I generally still run to music. The podcasts are great forthe 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 cant get anything going? Thats what Imup against right now. Somehow, I feel like Im occasionally my own worst enemy - toowrapped up feeling sorry for myself to get anything done. Give me rope, and Im tying

metaphysical nooses.

Its a terrible feeling when you realize that the biggest stumbling block remaining in yourlife, 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 ImVisa, baby - everywhere you want to be.

Lets change that noose into a lasso. Ive got goals to wrangle.

So.

Finally got back in the pool tonight for the first time in two weeks. The swimming feltgood. Felt smooth. Felt strong.

Til I noticed the guy in the next lane, hardly moving, but going way, way, faster than me.
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No, it shouldnt bother me. Not in the slightest. Cause I dont swim enough to havereason for it to bother me. Plus, the whole bothered thing interferes with the wholeWow, what a great swim feeling.

And yknow what? it doesnt bother me. Cause one day, perhaps years from now, Ill 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 modeafter donating blood on Saturday. Took the Forerunner this time to make sure that thefolks who built the trail put in the mile markers right. Turns out, theyre pretty darn close.Close enough that I trust them over the Forerunner. (Stupid technology) The finalverdict? 6.2 in 54 minutes. 8:45 average pace. I liked it. Not shabby for a lazy afternoonrun.

No particular insight for today. But whadda ya want for nothing? Rubber biscuit? Wantinsight? Head over tojeff.

Oh, and Jeff? The Felt youre looking at is well received inBicyclings annual buyersguide. So get on with it, already.

Actually, that brings up something that surprised me - I read through the bike porn for2006 yesterday evening. Nothing really jumped up and grabbed me. Bicycling kind ofsummed it up for me - were living in a golden age of bikes right now. For just slightlynorth of a grand, you can get a ride thatll do for about anything. For over $500, you canget a bike thatll do for about everything less than Cat III racing. But there was nothingthat really made me want to ditch the wife and kids and run down to the store with creditcard in hand. I am seriously considering a mountain bike again, though. But I may buildit piece by piece.

Comments (4)

20 February 2006

Winter Bil-lympics
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12/22

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, its a calorie suck. Id bemore energetic about it, but the phlebotomist completely missed my vein this time. Hadto dig about. Yuck. Plus, this may be it for me giving blood - theyre testing for aninfection passed along by ticks now. And I cannot count the number of ticks Ive pulledoff of me.

OK, so Sunday - family swim, and I con the wife into driving the kiddos home while Irun home (Isnt it too cold? Naw, sweetie - Ive got your love to keep me warm.) So heregoes:

(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,theyre cool. On the other hand, we live in New England now, and theyre kind of sociallyunacceptable. On the third hand, Ive got two boys, and have found, that, even without

any actual toy guns in the house, theres a lot of stuff that can stand in for guns. Actually,

even without the house, theres 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)
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13/22

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 theback seat. FromVelorution, where Im sure Id spend tonsof cash if I lived in London.

From the review:

The most distinctive feature of the Ronald Tandem is thefact 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, onewould have a very manoeuvrable and convenient shopping bicycle.

UPDATE (FromFixedgear)

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. Wasnt 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(Ill 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. Im reallydigging that path. Still not sure quite why. But Im not going to fight it, since Im really,really getting back into running. So whatever keeps me turning over the feet Im going tokeep doing.

Parked, put the Forerunner on top of the car to sync with the satellites, and fiddled aroundgetting dressed, etc. Grabed the Nano, fired up the stopwatch, and started jogging. 52seconds to Mile 0.
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The trail was pretty much snow-free today. Blew by the Mile 1 marker and forgot to markthe lap. About a quarter mile past, a couple of boys were getting on bikes and riding theway 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 its possible to just keep running. Hit the mile2 marker in 16:32 - not so bad; 8:15s Since I had a little time, I decided to go 6 milesinstead of four or five. The kids were still riding away; I kicked it up and kept running.7:45 for mile 3. Fired up U2s Vertigo. Kept hitting the back button as the song finished- when theres a groove, theres a groove.

Holy Crap! I said. I cant remember the last time I did a mile under 8 minutes. WoW!

Turned around, kind of determined to just cruise back to the car. Id just busted out thequickest 3 miles Ive done in months, and was happy. At the 4 mile marker, lap time was8:18. 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, Isaid 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 atall

Technorati Tags:North Kingston,rail trail,running,trails

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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 hadnt forgotten, really, but Idcertainly let it lie fallow. Quite a lot happened, too, in the biking sense, and in a smallway I feel a little bad about it. But lets review.

When I last wrote it was October - October 4th, to be precise. Right then Id clocked up186.9 miles total on the bike since I bought it. As of today Ive amassed 461.7 miles, so274.8 more miles than last time I checked. So yeah. Still riding.
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Truth is I kind of got bored writing about the same ride almost every day, but after I gotout of the habit of posting, I just figured I didnt need to post. When I read back oversome of these entries though, I can see that theres a style of writing here that I dontnormally 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 Years resolutions, new lights, night riding, broken spokes, new wheels,Undercliff Walk, biking partner (occasional).

Oh, and I didnt enter the London to Brighton bike ride this year. Imso not ready. Nextyear? Maybe.

Reading all that back I know there were definitely tales to tell, so I promise Ill try andtell them a bit more often. Just dont expect a daily version of the same I biked to Hoveand back for 30 minutes of exercise story ta.

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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 at6:30am (when its actually still dark, surprisingly). The person using that saw betterhave been cutting a mother and child loose from a burning car, instead of - say -

constructing shelves, thats all I can say.

Anyway, average enough ride, same morning route down the seafront, but this time Ipushed out a little further just to ensure I made five miles total (Ive been a little underrecently). I was listening to Keanes Under the Iron Sea at the time, specifically a trackcalled A Bad Dream which is a fairly melodic, soothing sort of tune - the kind of stuff Ilike, 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, andon 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 Brightons seafront skyline below it, the sea to one side, and foreground details likewheeling gulls and of course, other bikers plus my musical accompaniment it was asunrise to remember.

Of course, I didnt have the camera with me.

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October 2, 2006

It doesnt always feel great


After my near-existential pep talk to myself yesterday, naturally I dont go out on thebike. I did get other stuff done, stuff Ive been putting off (Its remarkable howprevaricating over one thing you dont want to do will get your priorities straight) but Ididnt go out.

I told myself it was because it was too windy, and I wasnt entirely wrong - hearing thewind shriek around the flat, and then having difficulty remaining upright as we walkeddown Middle Street towards the front, with the wind threatening to flatten us, made methink Id made a wise choice.

Regardless, last night I told myself I was going to have no excuse this morning. So whenthe alarm went off and I slapped it quiet, wondering if Id really slept for eight hours, Iquickly dismissed the naysaying part of me and went out before I persuaded myselfotherwise.

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 seafrontthough, thats when I knew I was in trouble. Whitecaps were surging past each other in aneffort to reach the shore, jostling for position as I sat at the lights waiting to cross, thenseeing the green man and wondering if Ishould. I got across, turned right and rode intoa wall of wind.

(more)

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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 notto be onthe bike and I choose to write this, instead.

I went on an internal training course a month or so ago that emphasised one very goodpoint - that everything we do is a personal choice, and that everything we dontdo is achoice, too. The thinking is that you have to take responsibility for your actions, and
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own them. This (in theory) breaks you out of a value-based cycle of I should do thisand I suck because I didnt do that. Which is how I feel right now.

Two reasons:

1. I havent been out on the bike since Tuesday.2. I just looked at my log of cycling for September, and saw Id only done fourhours total.

I can justify all this in my mind. But I choose, instead, to feel shit about it. This is mylife, 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 Ileave it, the harder it is to get back on the bike. But when I get back on,you have alwaysremembered immediately that it feels great. Always.

Go. Ride the bike.

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September 26, 2006

Minimalist


Asleep

Road closed

Freshly shampooed hair on the wind

Biking in formation; a bike ballet?

Lets 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
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Grim-faced bikers

Pissing off a Land Rover at the lights

Home again, time to spare

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September 24, 2006

Flying with flies

Filed under:Rides Rockjaw @ 6:00 pm

The average speed of a fly - which variety, I cant begin to tell you - is apparentlysomewhere around 16mph. I know this because I was overtaking them on my rideyesterday, and boy did it feel good.

On my ride last Saturday (the first since Id gotten back in the country) I had my firstencounter with the flies of late summer. While Id love to tell you the entomologicalreason for their sudden and proliferous apperance, all I know is they were all intent onflying into me like little kamikaze pilots. Maybe it had something to do with the white t-shirt I had on, maybe I was biking upstream through some seaside fly convention; all Iknow is I was slapping them away, shooing them off my person and at least once, spittingthem out as I rode.Pfooie.

Yesterday though, I was burning past them like a drag racer with his eyes on the finish

line.

Id skipped Thursday and Fridays morning rides, as you might have seen,so I wasdetermined I was going to make up for it on Saturday. Having negotiated a later start forour outing to the Duke of Yorks Picturehouse, I saddled up around 12 and headed out.Fantastic day for it. Regardless of the subject matter of that afternoons movie, you cantdeny were getting fine weather these days lets just enjoy it before we all end upcooked 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. Its

a few miles (nope, I dont watch the mileometer from point to point, generally) and its agreat ride. Pretty much entirely flat, with wide open paths. Its quickly become my newfavourite 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 generallyheading into the wind, which meant I knew I was in for an easy return journey. I finallyremembered to take my camera with me, so took some shots on the way out that Illpresent in another post.
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When the walk finally gave out I paused, took a few swigs of squash, took a few photosand then headed back. The weird thing I noticed was that with the wind at my back, itreally didnt 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 werebuzzing along right beside me; but then as I passed through 16mph and beyond they fellaway, one after the other. It was sort of surreal keeping pace with the same things that hadbeen randomly colliding with me last week, but it made me feel a bit one with nature allthe same.

I ended up behind two female bikers back along the walk, one of whom could really havedone with investing in mudguards, judging by the chalky mud all over her back. I hadplenty 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.

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September 22, 2006

Dagnabit weather

Filed under:General Rockjaw @ 8:31 am

I feel like a chump. Yesterday morning was glorious sunshine, and I didnt 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 Itold myself that I would go out. I am a wuss. But I am a dry, warm wuss.

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September 20, 2006

Third times the charm


I really felt like lying in today. Just because I could.

Now that Ive almostestablished a routine with this morning ride thing, my naturalinclination is to break that routine; I am the greatest saboteur of anything good for me. Sowhen I woke, I almost went straight back to sleep, reasoning that, you know sleep feels
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good. I stumbled out of bed, telling myself I was just taking a piss. Then I looked out thewindow, checking for any sign - at all - that the weather would make riding unpleasant.Damn those blue Brighton skies.

I guess its 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 asolemn compromise to myself - take it easy. No headlong struggles into the wind, nofrantic, devil-may-care spurts of speed. It worked, too; gave me time to think, whichbecame very self-reflective - I distinctly remember thinking about writing about theprocess 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 behindanother 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 ridersignoring the No Cycling signs on the promenade). Thats when I really woke up, as Icrossed paths with a leash strung between a lean greyhound lookalike and its bright redhaired owner.

Apart from that, it was an unremarkable ride on a pleasant morning. Back home inside 30minutes, to find a construction crew who started tearing up our street with pneumaticdrills before I could finish this. Probably a blessing that I didnt lie in, after all.

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September 19, 2006

Tuesday morning, feeling groovy


I didnt expect to be able to get out of bed to go for a ride today. Thatll be because lastnight, in what can only be described as the most exercise Ive had in a single day for along 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. Thats the only reason I go; if anyone started to take it tooseriously, I wouldnt bother. End aside.)

After hoofing around the pitch and gaining two shiny blisters on my feet for my trouble, Iwas barely able to walk home. (Amanda attributes this to a lack of stretching, whichmight be true, but I like to think the five mile ride had something to do with it; I was
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creaky before I left the office to play.) Long story short, I figured Id wake up thismorning feeling like a plank of wood.

Long story shorter, I didnt, 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 WorldsAPraise Chorus, which is about as religious as rock n roll gets. It was cold enough and Iwas tired enough that I ended up blinking sleep tears out of my eyes, which would havemade me a sight to see if anyone had been around. It did also make me a rolling traffichazard as I couldnt see, but a surreptitious wipe helped that.

Yesterday I cycled right, so today I went left along the seafront - Madeira Drive, whichwas surprisingly busy with cyclists and peds. I only realised why a little later; if yourecycling along the clifftop (mad with cars) Madeira Drive must seem like paradise. It wassuch an easy ride down to the Marina I figured Id keep going, considering my clock wasonly at eight minutes or so kind of a mistake.

I continued on past the Marina and out onto the Undercliff Walk, which thanks topersistent mud and some sort of chalky residue, is about the closest I get to off-roadbiking. 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 wholooked damn tired and fairly pissed off, but I paid him no mind. Then I turned around.

Of course. Id been riding with a tailwind behind me. Shit.

That early lead Id had on my projected 30 minutes riding time evaporated as I rode intothe 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 reallyhated me by now.

Apart from a near miss with another cyclist (Sorry lady, I was looking at traffic) the restof 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.

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September 18, 2006

In the morning


Its getting darker in the evenings. I dont want to become a night biker (although at somepoint, I willbuy myself some lights). I need to get out on the bike more. I cant leavework early. Hence, the decision to get up early and do some riding.
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Wasnt exactly all my idea, to be honest; Amanda said it first. Of course just becausesomeone suggests something doesnt mean you immediately do it. I think it was onlywhen I started looking outside at 6pm and seeing the sun was down, and on weekendsrealising Id have to get onto the bike pre-4pm for the chance of getting a ride in beforedusk thats 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 lookskinda grey, and feels kinda cold, so I pull out a long-sleeved t-shirt (that I really didntwant to sweat in, to be honest) and put it on with everything else. Keep 50p in my pocketfor any potential nightmare scenario phonecalls (Hon? I got sideswiped and the bikestotalled Im okay just send a cab for me, okay?) and nip downstairs. Im on theroad at 7:15, with RazorlightsIn the Morningmaking me smile, in a why-the-hell-am-I-doing-this way.

First thing to realise Brighton streets certainly arent empty at 7am. Theyre quiet, buttheres a steady stream of folks walking up our street to the station; London commuters,

on the way to the station, I guess. Im blinking sleep out of my eyes and avoidingdogwalkers, questioning myself all the way to the seafront, but then I hit a series of goodcurves and small downhill stretches and feel the way anyone does when they let gravitywork for you; great.

The seas a little choppy this morning, grey with white caps, and the wind feels strong butI manage to keep up a good pace. At least, what I feel like is a good pace for 20 minutesout of bed. Theres a steady string of bikes passing me in the opposite direction, and Ieven go past a girl looking like shes struggling more than me. But shes smiling.

Interesting mix of bikers, though. Most of them look like commuters, judging by dress,

and I wonder if theyre on their way to a really distant office (Rottingdean?) or if theyrejust early starters. (One of our office biking types is always in before 8:30am.) I see a fewtraining types; one pensioner in full-on racing gear, and one other guy who could be myidentikit twin - shorts, t-shirt, bike helmet, glasses, pained expression on his labouringface. Add a ginger-ish beard and wed be separated at birth.

In my mind Ive told myself that ten miles is out of the question this early in the day. Forone thing I know that my usual hour-long round trip will take another hour to cool downfrom, and thats not time I can afford. I figure that five miles will do it, so I pause at thebandstand near the Leisure Centre, turn and look back at the seafront. Light is breakingthrough the clouds in a sunburst, not only warming me for the first time but againreminding 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 aresinging Back to the Starton my headphones as I round the last couple of corners.

the boy on the bicycle

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