It’s been nearly a whole year since I crested that societal summit suggesting life is basically over. Fifty they say, fuck me, you’re lucky still to be alive. Looking back less than a hundred years, it’s hard to argue. If your appointment as cannon fodder didn’t get you, the Spanish Flu was ready to take up the slack.
Based on that I’ve done rather well. Especially considering a life lived on the margins of dietary respectability. I’ve exchanged a blasé approach to eating anything within elbows-orbit with a strict approach to greens and fibre which only a decent glass of red can make palatable.
While fairly comfortable that I’m not dead yet, signs of ageing are hard to ignore. I’m ignoring them through the vigorous riding of bicycles, larger trousers and the aforementioned balanced approach to medicinal alcohol.
But, well, fuck all that. A road trip awaits. This time for Matt to stamp his pass to middle age. He’s not so much in denial as entirely unconcerned. That’s something to admire as is his somewhat lackasaidal approach to any kind of plan. Plans being my thing, I’ve stepped in and organised eight riders to converge on a little known town in the Maritime Alps.
I know it having ridden there a few years ago on the ‘Remains of the Dave‘ Tour. Another birthday if a little less consequential. Looking back at the photos, I was as close to whip thin as I’ve been for a while, having sloughed 10kg post a shitty project and pre turning up looking keen.
Rode like shit tho. Many reasons. I blame the bike. Others would have more informed views. Uphill I was a machine, downhill I was a man recently introduced to the sport of off-road cycling. Whatever, that was then and this is now. Let’s look at what’s good on the spacecraft*
Long term injuries. Left Shoulder, Left Knee, Right Ankle. I can ride but shaving sometimes requires an extra mirror. Nothing new there. All manageable. New Injuries: left ankle, ruined during a badly judged attempt at a half marathon, mostly okay, can stand on a pedal, best not to look at it.
Mental health: Work has been, not to spare the horses, a total bastard for the last few months. Again my fault for not saying no, the consequences of which have been many late nights, too many of those stuck in a hotel, and a general bemusement on how this was the year I firmly planned to slide into semi-retirement,
No matter. We’re close to a road trip and there’s part of me which suggests half a century should replace youthful vigour with wisdom. Therefore, it is probably not appropriate to be as excited as a five year old facing down a vat of free ice cream.
Well, fuck that as well. We have little enough chance to live in the moment and I’ve been around long enough to ignore what other people feel is important. I’m not bothered about being somehow better or more skilled or cleverer than my peers, I just want to be different. A little bit closer to the edge.
The edge pulls back every year of course, but it’s still an edge and it’s still a decision to wonder if you can fly. That’s cheap talk – the proof is in the doing. Much of that is the derived from the context of when risk meets reward.
There are a thousand things I’ve ignored or made excuses for when riding on my own. The same obstacles baked dry by summer sun, easily ridden by my best friends, and at the end of week bookmarked by peering over that edge, are nothing more than trusting the bike and harvesting the endorphins.
Stephen Fry wrote a fantastic letter to himself some 35 years on passing on what he knew now. It’s far more heartfelt and important than the one I’d write myself which would go something like ‘put that joint down and take some bloody chances while you can‘. Not that I’d have listened. I was even more stupid back then.
This trip is different. We’re booked everyday on the uplift truck . Fitness isn’t a differentiator other than the fatigue that an hour long descent will put into you. It’s all about the sharp end. Bravery, technique and the ability to adapt to what’s in front of you. Checking my internal CV it appears I’ve scored a disappointing 0 out of 3.
Ready? Not materially injured. Riding an amazing bike. On trails I’ve ridden before. Close enough. Although based on the cohort travelling down in two vans next weekend, I’d best pack the spare liver.
One day I’ll get bored of feeling excited like this. It’s not today. Not even close.
*Apollo 13. Positive thinking to the max.