Saluting lives well lived

There’s something incredibly heartwarming about the way the cycling community can pull together when the chips are down. 

In recent months, Sussex has seen two tragedies that claimed the lives of local cyclists. Two were killed in the Shoreham Airshow disaster - 26 year-old Richard Smith and Dylan Archer, who was 42. Just weeks earlier, Don Lock, a 79 year-old member of Worthing Excelsior Cycling Club, was stabbed to death in a road rage incident on the A24.

All three leave devastated loved ones as well as friends and fellow cyclists left stunned by the random nature of the awful events that took place. All three are being mourned and missed.

There have been many tributes made and events held to mark the three deaths. One of them was a ride organized by Excelsior to celebrate the life of Don Lock, who’d been a member of the club for 50 years.

Around 150 cyclists joined the ride, a gentle meander through the West Sussex countryside, ending at a little village hall in the shadow of the South Downs, where tea and cakes – lots of cakes! – were available.

Standing there admiring the views and devouring the cake, we reflected on how wonderful it was to see so many different club strips in the same place, alongside more casual cyclists on their shoppers and folding bikes and hybrids.

There were no speeches or presentations or great outpourings of emotion. This wasn’t the time or place for any of that. It was just a collection of cyclists enjoying each other’s company and saluting a life well lived – a tribute as pure and simple as the sport we all love.

Come on, dive in!

Just over two years has passed since I popped along to Look Mum No Hands! for the Simpson Magazine launch. That night was a mix of friends, family and excited publishers – evidently a dream come true for a few pals with a vision of putting out a well made, delightfully designed and lovingly written magazine. Was there room for one more? Certainly. It’s still going strong with the same charm and care the initial arrival heralded. Dig the new breed indeed.

The same care and attention now extends to Simpson’s kit. With a day’s notice I was tempted by one of my riding pals to jump in a van and scarper off to France, trading laptop watching for some in-the-flesh TDF. “Damn, I wished I’d grabbed a Simpson CC top” I thought, as I threw assorted items into a bag. Via the power of Twitter I asked if there was any hope of grabbing a jersey before leaving. Writing this now I don’t really know just what I was expecting as an answer - “yeah mate, we will bike one over”? Two hours later I was trading money I probably needed for food for a new top and matching socks at a clandestine hook-up at the nearest Northern Line tube station. That is some service (the jersey and the tube network).

Despite my best efforts I don’t entirely look pro. I’m certainly a few pints of real ale the wrong side of Chris Froome’s shape. A quick glance at Strava confirms I don’t ride very much like a pro either. But in the right clobber and with the right shoes and a carefully procured sun tan, it’s possible with a splash of escapism to feel pro. In a similarly dramatic and fascinated-with-sport way that I’d scream “Neeskens!” when kicking one of those cheap plastic newsagent-supplied footballs back in the 70s past a set of rolled up parkas, I did have the odd moment climbing in the Alps when I allowed myself to have my pain and suffering described by the commentator’s voice in my head. I’m sure there’s a Dutch corner joke there too but I’m too worn out to make it.

So what of the “Simpson CC”? Does it actually exist? Is this another of those gangs of earnest-looking Sunday riders who grind past solo riders without a perfunctory nod, let alone a smile? Well no, it’s more a statement of intent, a show of support and, from what I can tell, a commitment to that famous Eddy quote about just riding your bike. It seems to be a cycling gang whose members are far less likely to spend their time bragging about who has the fastest segment or who got dropped. The only award you’re likely to get with this lot is nicest bloke you met that day. Fancy that!

By the way, the jersey is as good as anything I’ve got in terms of quality and that design…well, you can see for yourselves that it’s got the same panache as the mag. Hurry up and dive in.

Rising to the occasion

There are downsides to big, organized bike rides. En masse, us cyclists have an unfortunate tendency to lose our common sense as the occasion gets the better of us. We swerve unpredictably, take risks we’d never normally take, plough into potholes and fail to warn those behind us about hazards. Our impact on the people and places we cycle past can be upsetting, disruptive or even dangerous, reinforcing the views of the anti-bike brigade that we’re nothing but a bunch of testosterone-fuelled Lycra louts. It’s no surprise that many experienced cyclists eschew mass participation events in favour of lower-key, lower impact rides. But to turn your back on all big rides is to deny yourself some rare treats, as we were reminded last weekend on the third Prudential RideLondon 100-miler. Being one of 27,000 cyclists tapping along on central London roads that are usually choked with traffic is a truly uplifting experience. Add cheering crowds, impeccable route marking, logistics management and marshaling and you have an experience that every cyclist should try at least once. Turning into the home straight on The Mall, where thousands lined the route, banging the hoardings and screaming us to the finish line 300 metres away, we allowed ourselves to imagine how it might feel to be involved in the sprint finish of a Grand Tour, as the adrenaline peaks and those weary leg muscles twitch into action for one last superhuman push to the line. Easing out of the saddle for a final big-ring blast, just inches away from all those clapping hands and waving flags, we set our jaw with steely determination and gave it full gas for the first 100 metres…before realizing that both legs were about to cramp and that 300 metres is a lot further than you might think when your muscles are awash with lactic acid. Never mind. It’s good to dream.

Filling the void

The Tour is over! We are bereft! No more afternoon TV watching while we pretend to work. No more desperately avoiding social media until the evening highlights when we’ve missed the day’s action. No more bike rides planned around cake stops at cafés screening the race. What on earth are we supposed to do now? Well, there’s always the Vuelta at the end of August. No, we know it’s not quite the same but it still attracts all the big boys. As we write, Chris Froome is weighing up whether to try and emulate Jacques Anquetil and Bernard Hinault by going for a Tour/Vuelta double. Some of Froome’s competitors may feel they have something to prove after their Tour disappointments too. And just think, once the Vuelta’s finished on 13 September, there will only be 10 months until the next Tour begins! There’s always riding bikes too, of course. We doubt we’re alone in cutting short or postponing rides because the Tour was just too enticing. It’s a curious fact of cycling life that bike fitness often dips at this time of year, just when you think you ought to be peaking after all that off-season hard work. There are various reasons for this – the big summer expedition might now be behind you, the family holiday might have kept you off the bike – but another one might just be because you’ve been neglecting your cycling and choosing instead to sit in front of the telly to watch other riders turn themselves inside out for a few weeks. And then there’s everything else, of course. The garden’s looking a bit neglected. The family probably needs reminding who you are and why you're skulking around the house looking so miserable. And you now have time to pursue all those non-cycling interests you have. You do have some of them, right?

The Tour from the inside

TV sports coverage is truly spectacular these days but for any great sporting event, nothing beats witnessing the drama at first hand. Okay, maybe it's not so good if you're below two metres in height but by being part of the crowd you're part of the Tour itself! We last witnessed a Tour stage on foreign soil back in 2012, when we were privileged enough to see history in the making as (Sir) Bradley Wiggins lapped the Champs-Élysées clad in yellow. Fast forward to 2015 and Utrecht, the Dutch city hosting the Grand Depart. We find ourselves rubbing shoulders with the world's cycling press in an exhibition arena-sized media centre. We're still as starstruck by the Tour as we were before launching the magazine. The sheer size and scale of the event still blows us away. Some might dismiss it as a cash cow - a cynical money-making opportunity - but for us it's still the greatest spectacle road cycling has to offer. When we were offered the chance to witness the opening stages of this year's event as part of the press community, there was a split second of hesitation caused by a fear that we might lose our Tour innocence and become drawn into the cynical world of cycling journalism we so hate and resist. But on the plus side we were being presented with every fan's dream of behind-the-scenes access to exclusive areas where the team buses are situated, mechanics fettle bikes and riders warm up. On this basis we were prepared to take our chances! We can't say too much more about how our day(s) unfolded - you'll have to wait for issue 8 to find out more - but let's just say we're still smiling about the experience days after returning. It's great watching the Tour on TV but it's so much more special to go in person to become part of the show. Remember, you still have two and a half weeks. Go on, get involved!