I'm gonna make you bleed
I remember the guy from Glenmarnock. So much promise and power but so little self-confidence. I tried, I really did, to get him out on training rides. Every time I’d wait 10, 15, 30 minutes. No show. He was consistent and had a furious sprint in our inter-club races. Why didn’t he follow the sport? So many charlatans and wheel huggers did.
On this day, I had my carbon/alu mix bike, the first road bike in a while. My folks’ house is in a dip so I eased up onto the road and set a pace gently east. The hill past Eastwood Roundabout is a classic leg warmer. Not steep, just demanding and consistent. Ignoring it, I cruise on down to the other roundabout with a dip and sharp climb up the Stewarton Road. Hard out of the roundabout and then harder still, kicking and kicking again. No ipod just aggression, not angry but determined to show this familiar training circuit that I’ve not forgotten its demands and peculiarities, up and onto the Fenwick Moor. This hurts a lot but I’m traveling fast. Crossing over the big road, the descent via Eaglesham starts and I know the effort is over. But is it? I’m out the saddle at every opportunity, kicking and dancing into every corner. Sprinting for each line. Finally gliding into Carleton Drive, Dad is heading out for a walk. We exchange greetings, I can taste blood. Dad understands.
Dave was leading a ride – four of us. I was new to the Southern crowd. Friendly and inclusive. Nice. We started out toward the Kemp Town racecourse on a Tuesday night ride at a pace I knew. It grew, then grew and became amazing. I hadn’t ridden so hard since … since … Christ, it’s hot. I’m still on his wheel. He’s still accelerating on this churned up rubbish? I’m still on his wheel. I can taste blood. I understand.

We met for Rory’s 42nd. I’ve missed the last few birthdays. Missed quite a lot really. There are wonderful faces from the past, friends whose stories are equally as important as my own, just that they haven’t been shared in a while. The ride to Selsey is calm and social – good time to catch up on what is going on. We pick up one of the most enthusiastic and wonderful people I have ever met in Chichester … only he manages to pinch flat and split his tyre in under a mile. It’s raining and cold. What do we do … taxi? Halfords (with five minutes to get there?) … gaffer tape? Hell yes! Wrap the contents of Nigel’s gaffer tape round the tyre and off we go. It wouldn’t have been right to do it any other way.



