Cyclists - Take Notice!

On a sunny day in September, for the first time ever, I cycled all the way home from work. From Holborn to Crouch End to be exact, a journey of about six miles. Poised at the traffic lights at High Holborn, and a little breathless, my overriding emotion was one of... excitement. All round me were cyclists, a troop of cyclisme in all forms: hard-muscled, fashionable, quirky, armoured, youthful, grizzled, the occasional spiderman without the mask, and me (and my guide) on Bromptons.  To be part of this bunch reinforced my sense of entitlement to be on the road.  We were a posse and we were going home.

I am not a complete cycling novice. True, I only learned to bike as a student at St Andrews and I never quite mastered using brakes downhill. (I thought that was what knees were for, to disastrous and scarifying effect.)  My first venture into urban cycling was in Rome.  Not my idea I assure you and after being swept into a tunnel on the Appian Way, I beached myself on a traffic island, threw the (hired) bike on the ground and burst into tears.  

Later I became a cycle commuter, hopping on and off trains but not really owning the road.  However, to support my partner, Richard currently qualifying as a cycle trainer, I agreed to be his pupil.  Here's what I learned from the first three sessions.  

1. Gears are very useful and you shouldn't have to struggle and pant up hill- get to grips with them.

2. It is better to bowl along at a constant pace than to build up speed and then coast (although it does mean fewer opportunities to shout out, 'Weee', one of the perks of biking in my book).

3. Road positioning, surely my most important lesson. Don't stay in the gutter or the occasional ghetto of the cycle lane.  If you want to turn right at a junction, you've got to be in the middle. If you want to turn left at a junction, get into the middle, and so avoid being overtaken by the car behind.

4. And the final thing I learned (which kinda I knew already) is my sense of direction is dire.

On a bike however, you can take notice and that is how I navigate my route. Research into happiness suggests that 'taking notice' is one of five ways to create well being: cycling opens up your whole being to the world around you.

So on my journey to work, I have noticed the enticing Cafe Vintage on Finsbury Park Road, that marks my turning to the right.  I have enjoyed the smell of sausages and toast as I pass Thornhill Primary School, which probably explains their prestigious Food for Life Partnership award. I have noted the bunch of boys, all in hoodies, having a confab in the tree cage in Arundel Square Park, the top level safely fenced in. I have spotted tree pits on Barnsbury Road, planted with rudbeckia and pansies.

Guerilla Gardening on Barnsbury Road catches my eye.

I have learnt to notice other cyclists and to extend the same courtesy I accord to drivers, letting them know I am moving out and demonstrating clearly an intention to turn.  Last week I observed a woman on a bike upbraid a motorist for coming out in front of her. But I wonder if she was just a bit complicit: she was hesitant and uncertain and the driver took advantage.

Finally I notice myself, how I balance on my bike at the traffic lights, deliberately relaxing my shoulders which hunch when I'm tense, my mind alert, waiting for the light to change, ready to wobble off with those few moments of advantage.  I was breathless and flushed the first time I rode into work but I'm getting stronger.  My homeward journey ends with two hills, one a slow incline in Finsbury Park, the other a fiendish pull up before the final whiz ('Weee') home. I would like to say that each day I ascend a little more but that would not be entirely true. I notice my state of mind, my stamina at the end of a long day at work and sometimes I let myself off the hook.  And that's ok.

These sunny September days are a delight and they are particularly precious as the light begins to angle and fade. It has been a good time to learn and wintry rainy days may prove a greater challenge. Nevertheless I am convinced that the pleasure in observing and noting is one that will always entice me back on to my bike.