Life is a Bicycle Ride
But before we click into the pedals, allow me to express my sincere shock at recent events like the tidal conditions that ravaged our coastline, and to everybody that suffered some sort of loss due to that, my condolences.
I am obviously as shocked as anybody else about the whole Woolmer issue and the implications thereof for professional sport. The world has gone money-crazy. Or just plain crazy! Period.
Then it is with palpable amazement that we saw Shaun Pollock went for 8 runs per over against our friends from down under. And the Sharks – “oh my goodness Doll, what went wông”?
As they say in the classics, ‘Winning isn’t everything. It is the only bloody thing’.
Which brings me to the topic; Life is a Bicycle Ride. “Huhh?”
Firstly, some (boring) background facts, necessary to create the analogy between a bicycle race and the true essence of life, life itself. It is also necessary to inform the reader of some of the more subtle nuances of the sport which will become evident when the comparison is made.
What is the purpose of competitive cycling? To win of cause. Yeah, I hear you say, when someone like myself competes in a big cycle race, who will I be winning? I will be winning thousands of other recreational but competitive cyclists and in turn will be beaten by thousands other and better cyclists. I will be racing against my own watch. To better our time, to better our position, to better our national seeding; those are the things that drive us.
How do you do this? You use other people. Yes, just like that. And you do not even have to ask permission. As one of the famous Sporting Equipment companies says; ‘Just do it’.
How? You ride with a fast group and you make use of the collective slipstream of say thirty or more fast moving cyclists. It more or less sucks you in and drags you along. It is called ‘Drafting’. This way you can conserve enough energy to see you through a tough race. All you need to do is be alert, (crashes, sometimes major, do happen), and try not to be dropped from this group (called a Peleton) on the hills. If you can stick with a fast group, suffer on the hills and sit tight in the flat and downhill areas, you can achieve excellent times. But as I said, be alert. You can also lose contact with the peleton if you are only watching the one or two persons immediately in front of you because they can in fact be losing ground and if you are not awake, you might suddenly find yourself in a little slower group of three cyclists with a awful gap of fifty meters to the main group. To catch them without the effect of drafting takes a tremendous effort.
Now that you have some of the background, the following sequence of events will make a bit more sense.
During the very recent Cape Argus Cycle Tour in Cape Town, the very same type of scenario happened to me and after the immense pain it caused me; I made the comparison mentioned earlier.
After the normal hectic start, the first climb out of the CBD caused the muscles to burn prematurely as everybody in the starting group jostled for a comfortable position in the peleton. From the top of the hill, going down into (aptly named) Hospital Bend, we passed a huge pile-up of tangled bicycles and cyclists lying on the road surface. Ambulances, choppers, emergency vehicles, officials screaming, marshals directing us through the carnage of more than twenty cyclists that crashed. Off we were over the next hill, but everybody subconsciously slowed down just a tad due to a certain sense of apprehension. This passed within five minutes and we were screaming through Muizenberg, Vishoek, and on to Smitswinkel, the first real tester of a hill. By now we were all more or less tucked into positions picked with great care.
Now, Freddy Mercury (late) from the band Queen (former) wrote two very apt songs, namely ‘Fat Bottomed Girls’ and ‘Bicycle Race’. So, I was positioned behind one of those girls in one of his races. Behind her for no reason other than the slightly wider slip stream she offered. She, lets call her Big Mama, in turn, was directly behind a very skinny fellow with big calf muscles and a very fancy and expensive bicycle. I suppose she thought that he will slice through the air? Who knows.
I got real comfortable just sitting there, getting pulled along and looking at nothing but the rear wheel of Big Mama’s bicycle. By now we have topped the hill and were heading into a slight headwind going towards Kommetjie on a long flat(ish) stretch. That is where it happened. I looked up, jerked out of my trance by the lack of noise so reminiscent of a huge peleton going at speed. It must have been a couple of minutes before I realised that something was amiss. Skinny lost contact with the peleton. We were now three solitary cyclists fifty meters behind the main group, and rapidly losing more ground. Sore Legs Naudé, Big Mama, and Skinny. I pulled out of Mama’s slipstream and rolled up to Skinny. “You lost them” I panted. (“You incompetent little Twit” I wanted to say.) “Help me catch them”. “Please” And I put the hammer down and started the worst fifteen minutes of the entire race. After only about two minutes I glanced back and they were not on my wheel! They were ten meters behind. “Come please” I begged, hoping that we can alternate the front position to maintain speed and conserve energy. Not today though. Mama is trying her best but without the peleton, she is just not able to keep up. Skinny, my friend Skinny, has discovered a new comfort zone behind Mama’s slightly enlarged frame. He is now drafting and nothing is going to pry him out of that spot. He is floating on air, getting propelled by the wind breaking abilities of someone not even closely on the same level of fitness that he is. But it is nice.
And that, is the story of life itself.
Let’s be honest, we all want to succeed in life, beat the Jones’s, better our ‘Life Seeding’, excel, win. Early in life you realise that you probably cannot do it all by yourself. You need people. You need partners. Team members. A peleton. All you have to do is make use of their collective momentum, expertise, knowledge, conserve your assets, and if it lasts and you can remain prominent in this society, you will have enough energy and abilities and the necessary means to make a final dash for the winning line and take the honours.
But you always get the like of Skinny and Mama. She tried but was not equipped. He lost contact with his group, labelled himself as a failure and immediately went into a new comfort zone. You get them in life and no amount of begging can get them to help you. They are what today’s youngsters refer to as losers. Learn from this analogue; If they are not contributing to your race through life and, most importantly, if they do not want your help, better leave them behind. They will always find a Big Mama to comfort them and lead them. They will also eventually reach the same finish line, albeit somewhat later. That is inevitable in life. As they say, ‘Life is a Terminal Disease – nobody gets out alive’. Some just ends better than others, but then again, some are happy to have a lower life-speed-seeding than others. The beauty lies in the fact that we are all so different yet we are all riding in the same Bicycle Race called LIFE. Make the most of it, make use of the collective drafting of your family, friends, colleagues, and when you finally make your sprint with energy conserved with their help, remember to thank them in your heart when you take the honours.
What happened with the rest of the race? I left the two of them behind, burnt up unnecessary energy and fuel to try and catch the peleton, and after fifteen minutes of pain could not get closer than an agonising twenty meters. I had to slow down and wait for the next big group from behind to preserve whatever energy I had left. They arrived soon after that and I managed to finish in that group in a respectable time. At the end, I lost almost twenty minutes to the initial group. And Skinny? I saw him finish by sheer luck (there are thousands of cyclists) – he was just ten minutes behind me. Without Mama. What happened to her I do not know. I hope she finished well because she tried so hard.
Last lesson? If you get thumped on the nose and you cannot keep up with your peers, make the necessary adjustments, reorganize, work hard and you will win old Skinny. If only just. And remember, comfort zones are never permanent. Greetings from the saddle,
Pieter & Renette Naudé.
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