Velo darkness, my old friend...

I'm off to London's Olympic Velodrome this evening.  It's not called that any more; it's the Toilet Duck Velo-Excellium Experience or something.

One can't just pitch-up and "ride the boards" as we cyclists term it.  You have to be accredited.  This is a sensible precaution.  Most every office Johnny of a certain age these days has access to a road bike courtesy of the bike-2-work scheme.  Worse still - most think they can ride them.  It is (just) possible to get away without causing a crash when you don't know what you're doing on the road, but the track is less forgiving.  You're riding in a lot of traffic in a confined space.  You're also riding a fixed-wheel bike with no (count 'em) brakes.  It makes sense, then, to teach everyone some race craft before letting them off the leash.

Sadly, I've just learned that I cannot ride using my preferred pedals.  There are several pedal systems for cyclists these days.  They require matching shoes to work.  I assumed that I'd be able to select the pedals of my choice for the hire bike I'll be riding.  But, no.  So the Lord alone knows what I'll be riding.

I'll report back tomorrow, but they're going to have to charm the shorts off me to get a decent write-up after this.

Absolute rotters.

Mister Punyverse

I've got a taster session booked at the Olympic Velodrome next week.  Initially I was hoogely excited by this, but later, as surely as night follows day, the doubts started to creep in.  Riding to work on Wednesday morning I thought I felt one of my hamstrings complaining.  This is normally a sign that my sciatic nerve is unhappy with developments, so it's not a problem.  I just step-up the yoga a touch and get on with it.  But the looming public display of cycling prowess had added a extra dimension of worry.

You see, I am fiercely competitive once I've thrown my leg over a bike, so I cannot and will not race unless I'm in prime condition.  I think it's referred to as "doing oneself justice".  So will I be able to give it full gas at the velodrome?  If I can't, I need to pull out beforehand.  The reason for my uncertainty is that I'm prone to psychosomatic episodes, particularly when I know I need to be 100%.  Chances are this is one of those.

The competitive instinct on the bike is an odd sensation for me.  Other than in this one arena, I have no competitive spirit at all.  In fact I dislike and mistrust competitive people.  I think it betrays a weakness of character.  Why do you need to prove yourself to others?  I know what I'm good at; I don't need to demonstrate that ability.  Except, that is, on a bicycle.

In other news, Mrs O and I are off to a garden party tomorrow at her old college in Oxford.  Sadly, my meteorological advisors tell me it's going to shit down rain, so that's the croquet gone for a Richard Burton.  No matter.  The sherry and nibbles at these do's are of the finest order available, so if push comes to shove, I can always spend the time indoors, face down in the buffet.