Duck Town and Z Boys
Is this now officially part of the season? The annual moment where we all pretend we love winter riding until the wind hits us sideways and we remember, oh yes, this is objectively awful. Years ago I’d head out with freezing feet, rolling past actual icicles forming at the roadside from puddles that had been enthusiastically splashed into the bushes by passing cars. I’d defrost in a café, dripping on the floor like a forgotten snowman, then get home and stand in the shower wondering if the feeling would ever return to my toes.
Back then I’d scoff at indoor training — except for the occasional roller session where the main workout was “don’t fall into the radiator.” I’d genuinely wonder how every other bugger turned up to the first crit of the season looking like they’d secretly cloned themselves for extra training hours. Computer games? Virtual riding? No thanks. I’m not that guy, I’d insist.
And then came fatherhood and the succeeding crumpling, folding, and general origami-ing of time. Turns out I am that guy. I am so that guy.
Last week I pressed the metaphorical button: “resume subscription.” We’re in — not just in for a penny, but in for a penny plus a monthly fee that definitely increased since last winter. The trainer still works (miraculously), all the updates are downloaded, and I’ve even completed those terrible ramp tests that I executed badly (semi-deliberately… look, there are no prizes for trying hard in a ramp test). Now I’m signed up to the obligatory 6-week training plan — the winter rite of passage for cyclists who want to feel structured without actually being that structured.
But somewhere along the way, the resilience to go outside vanished. Like, properly disappeared. And honestly… do we even care?
My firm answer: no. I don’t care. If I wanted to ride for three hours in biting, face-numbing cold, the option is still there — but these days I don’t really have the time or the inclination. And that is entirely, beautifully, gloriously fine. I still love exercise. I still love fairly/quite/sometimes aggressively loud guitar music. Does any of this make me less of a cyclist? Absolutely not.
Have I earned my stripes? Commuted in the dark, wet, and cold? Been out more times than I care to remember with frozen hands and feet? Fallen off on ice in front of a dog walker who definitely judged me? Bonked and sheltered shivering in a barn like a confused farmhand? Yes. All of the above. When it snows, will I be in the woods making the first tracks like a deranged Narnia extra? Also yes.
But right now I’m more than partial to an hour of power and some Soundgarden — which, frankly, feels like a perfectly respectable life choice.
If you’re feeling similarly sensible/reluctant/freezing, come join the community:
Our Strava Club is HERE, and our Zwift Club does indeed exist somewhere in the digital ether. You can find it and join it if you fancy pretending we’re all sweating in the same room.
#wangit