The Joys of Cycling

“I want to ride my bicycle, I want to ride my bike,
I want to ride my bicycle, I want to ride it where I like.”
Bicycle Race - Queen

Almost everyone I know seems to be into running at the moment. Many of my workmates are, and quite a few are even in training for the Richmond 10k or London Marathon. Even two of my oldest and best friends, neither of whom I would describe as particularly athletic, are currently training for the Great Manchester Run and the Ipswich Half Marathon respectively. I’ve been asked many times over the years by friends and colleagues to join them for such running events, and for a second after being asked I often consider what would happen to me if I entered – the sense of achievement, the physical and mental benefits, the shared experience with friends – and then I quickly think of the reality of it – how hard I would have to work to get my level of fitness up to standard and the sheer physical pain that would be involved with this.

I’ve tried to get into running before: about six years ago when I worked in Cambridge I decided to get up half an hour earlier every morning and go for a run along the riverbank near where I live. Seeking motivation I bet my girlfriend £10 that I’d do it every day for a week: I successfully ran the just-under-2-miles route from Monday to Thursday, then on Thursday evening was told that the bet was off! Disappointed, I gave in and cancelled Friday’s run. I haven’t been running on a regular basis (more than one day in a row) since. 

Due to my recent epiphany of realising that I won’t be young forever, I have given quite a bit of thought of trying to get back into running again and planned to go for a run last Saturday. I got my trainers out, thought about the stretches I would need to do to get my stiff body ready for the physical challenges it would soon face, and even downloaded and registered with the popular Nike + running app. I was all ready to go, then on Saturday morning I woke up and thought about the choices in front of me – I could either spend about 15 minutes running nearly 2 miles in pain or I could spend just under an hour cycling 12 miles in relative comfort. I’d get about the same benefits in terms of exercise, so cycling won and I got my bike out of the shed.

I love cycling, I love playing football and I really love walking (definitely a subject for a future blog). These are my three forms of (fairly) regular exercise, none of which I get to do quite as much as I would like to, but all of which I get a great deal of pleasure out of. I think the reason why I enjoy these forms of exercise more than any others is because they all seem natural, two of them help you get closer to nature, and they all involve a sense of freedom – all things that mean a lot to me.

When I tell people I enjoy cycling they instantly think I have got a road bike and wear lycra – nothing could be further from the truth as I am very much an amateur cyclist. I often get odd looks from my fellow Norfolk cyclists as I pass them (or to be more precise, they pass me) on the country roads surrounding the sleepy town I live in. They all very much fall into the stereotypical view of a cyclist – shiny helmets, luminous lycra and expensive looking road bikes. I’m not sure if the look they give me is disdain, pity or sympathy but it’s probably due to how I look compared to them – no helmet (I wouldn’t think of ever cycling in London without one but in the country on quiet roads I don’t feel the need for one), jeans and a fleece, and instead of an slick road bike I ride…a woman’s mountain bike! As the saying goes my bike is definitely built for comfort rather than speed.

 Image: My bike leant against an old fashioned road sign on a typical Norfolk country lane

I’ve promised myself a proper bike for years but like many things I promise myself it’s not something I’ve got round to yet. I’m very pragmatic anyway so I don’t really feel that I’m missing out too much by riding the bike I do. I’d like to be able to go faster and look better as I do so, and I could do without the bell comically chiming as I go over bumpy bits of road, but it does its job. I quite like the fact that it doesn’t look like I’m taking it seriously anyway. I compare my approach to cycling as similar to that of the brilliant sports and nature writer Simon Barnes' philosophy to bird watching. Barnes describes how simple it is to be what he calls a 'bad bird watcher' – look out of the window, see a bird, enjoy it. That’s my view on cycling – jump on your bike, go anywhere you like, enjoy it.

I’ve always lived fairly close to the countryside and cycling has been the best way for me to explore my surroundings. I was fortunate to grow up in the East side of Ipswich, where fields, farms and villages like Martlesham were only a 10 minute bike ride away. When I lived in Cambridge (where cycling is by far the most popular form of transport) I was even closer to the country, with the River Cam just a couple of minutes from my house. From there I enjoyed many long bike rides along the river to the surrounding villages. Now in sedate Downham Market, I’m also within easy reach of the countryside. I’ll be honest in saying that it’s not exactly the most picturesque countryside in England – Constable Country, the Cotswolds or the Yorkshire Dales, West Norfolk certainly is not. But it’s still the outside and it is freedom.

I’ve got a nice 12 mile circuit that is becoming a regular weekend routine. Starting at the railway station I cycle up the small hill (heart and lungs going already) into town, past the newsagents and the pensioners with their copies of the Daily Mail, and turn left to join the road to King’s Lynn to the north. After a couple of miles I turn west towards Stow Bridge, stopping when I get to the bridge itself and taking in the view, and often also taking a photo of, the River Great Ouse. 

Rivers can be very emotive places; they look inspiring in the sunshine and moody under a murky sky. One of the great things about the Fens is the sky and on a sunny day it appears to go on forever as there are very few landmarks amongst the miles upon miles of flat farmland. From there I continue west along quiet country roads before then heading south towards Barroway Drove, along a few miles of completely deserted road. I’m more likely to see a country bird then I am a person or a car and this is probably the most enjoyable leg of my route. It is here, in complete isolation, away from everything and under the huge Fenland sky that I feel the most free. 

From there it’s onto the small village of Barroway Drove and back to signs of humanity as I pass large farm houses with names like The Forge, The Birches, and The Old Saddlery. Then it’s back east towards Downham Market, often stopping at my local charity bookshop, before back home for tea. From the corpses of rusting farm machinery to huge flocks of birds singing and dancing in the endless sky, I get great enjoyment by the sights and sounds that accompany my bike ride. You don’t get to see the first blossom on trees or even dead birds by the road in the robotic spinning classes that are favoured by many time-precious Londoners, which is why I think going for a bike ride beats spinning in a gym every time.

Freedom is a common feeling associated with cycling – from kids riding their first bikes away from the safety of their parents and onto unlimited new adventures, to Situationist inspired students holding their bicycles in the air as a symbol of protest during the 1968 Paris riots – riding a bike means to be free. Katie Melua sang that there are 'nine million bicycles in Beijing': that used to be a strength of the hardworking and dedicated Chinese – self-reliant and with no need to rely on the western addiction of oil. Sadly, with the economic and social booms happening in China, it’s probably more likely that there will be nine million cars in Beijing soon.

I’m an explorer: wherever I go I immediately want to check out the surrounding area. Walking is a great way to do that and I certainly do a lot of that, but to really get out and about, to explore places that you’ve only seen on a map, to get a better understanding of your tiny little corner of England, then getting on your bike is by far the best way to do it. It’s also great exercise, makes you feel good inside and lifts your spirits. To paraphrase the former Tory M.P. Norman Tebbit, if anyone is fed up with life then there’s not much better advice than to 'get on your bike!'