The Tyranny Of Numbers

Some time ago, I rather foolishly and publicly declared that I was not interested in cycling fast. I was merely content to use my bike as a leisure tool, pootling easily from town to town. I would leave the competitive comparisons of speed and mileage to serious cyclists.

Utter tosh, of course. Who am I kidding? Much is made of targeting women, encouraging them into sport – including cycling – by offering “non-threatening” and “non-competitive” events. Are women less competitive? Many of my friends now have kids. Listening to them compare their little angels’ school progress proves that women are violently competitive.

As soon as I stagger in from a ride, I log it on the Map My Ride website. This allows me to scare myself with hill gradient analysis (it may have made me wet myself but it’s not officially a hill unless Map My Ride tells me so). I can record my distance and my time, and it’ll give me an average speed.

It’s horrible. I’m an absolute slave to this thing.

On Monday I had a disappointing ride. I can hardly continue to insist this is just “fun” when I launched out on a there-and-back trek, for no purpose other than to see how quickly I could do it. 13 miles. I made it over the moor and was annoyed to see the clock ticking on. Never mind, I’d go for a negative split and give it 100% on the way back.

Turn around. Bang! Headwind.

Lincolnshire flatlanders like me struggle with the concept of hills, and it still catches me out when I get to the top of one – and find it’s windier than the valley. I know, I know, it’s obvious to you. Hills are new to me, okay?

So I get home in a sulk and my mood’s not improved when Map My Ride tell me my average speed was 11.7 mph.

I do hope, one day, to join a road club. Unless I fit an engine to my bike, cleverly disguised as a rear light or something, that’s not going to happen. I’ve been told that I need to be looking at 20 mph at least to keep up with a club ride and my local club records their times on their website – members are doing 25-milers in an hour. I am not sure I can get my bike on the bus. But I would have to.

This is where the excuses kick in, of course. “I haven’t got the right bike”. As if going from a cheap hybrid to a sleek drop-handled thing will add 10 mph to my speed. “It’s very hilly here.” These hills don’t just lurch out of the scenery at me. Everyone else goes up them, too. “I’m tired.” And so on.

Speed means nothing? Mileage means nothing? I should just enjoy the ride?

I do enjoy the ride. I just intend to enjoy it faster.

picture featured in the Daily Cycle Flickr Group – added by the fixed factor