Tag Archives: cycling

Is this a mid-life crisis?

Before you read on please don’t think that you’re going to find any juicy gossip!  No, I’m not planning on running away with someone half my age – perish the thought!  Nor am I going to engage in multiple body piercings, or a tattoo.  Nor does it involve wearing inordinate amounts of brightly coloured lycra.  It’s very much less sensational than that, trust me!

As we count down to Mo’s 18th Birthday this summer and await the results of university applications with bated breath I have got it into my head to buy myself a bicycle.  Now, for a woman whose most extreme form of exercise is running errands in town on foot and who hasn’t ridden a bike for oooh, um …… more than 35 years (except for one weekend staying at Biras Creek some 20 years ago), even I am wondering why and what the dickens has got into my silly head.

Am I nuts???  I’m hoping that the answer to that question is “No!”  However, I don’t really know.

Let me explain my rationale to you, and maybe you can let me know if it makes sense ….  Firstly, I am totally hopeless at sitting still. I am always busy doing something, going somewhere.  Graham says that he gets tired just watching me, which I am sure is an exaggeration, but he’s been saying it for so many years now that I wonder.  Secondly, I am very keen to know more about the place that we have chosen to call home and, while I am happy to walk, I can only go so far on my feet while Graham takes his siesta.  Not far at all.  Yes, I could use the car, but then I have to have my eyes on the road, which means that there are not the same opportunities for stopping on a centime when you’ve spotted a little quirky thing that bring you closer to really knowing where you live.

Hence the bicycle.  I am hoping that not only will I be able to explore further with instant flexibility, but that perhaps it will help me counter the looming danger of middle-aged spread too.  I’ve already complied a list of things I want to check out, such as the traditional clog maker whose sign I see as I blast down Sainte-Foy’s outer rocade in the car.  I’d like to ride along the west-bound river-side road that extends from Avenue Marechal Leclerc all the way to Pessac sur Dordogne, just to see what it is like.  And those are just the tip of my exploration list.

So, if in your travels around Sainte-Foy-La-Grande you see a middle-aged blonde wobbling precariously on a bike, red as a beetroot and panting wildly,  spare a kind thought for her – it might be me!