I knew a man, who didn't once ride up Mt Wellington
It is for him, today, that I chose to ride.
Today, I will ride strong, my cadence will be high and my hands will be soft on the bar. I will pedal in circles today, I will drop my heel on the down stroke, wipe my feet across the bottom then lift and repeat. Core switched on, abs engaged and hips level, because that's how he would ride.
I do not need your wheel, I will not rest in your draft. Today, this is an express and we are not taking passengers. You may catch my wheel and though my bike may weigh two of yours, I plan to make you earn that spot, it is for my friend that I ride today.
I will climb the hills and welcome the head wind and only rise out of the saddle to maintain the pedal stroke as I surge forward. I will respect my fellow road users all the laws bar one, today, the law of gravity can kiss my ass, for I knew a man who didn't once climb Mount Wellington and tonight I will fly.
My socks high, my cycling kit matching and in my jersey pocket will be the most important item for cycling, a handy chapstick - that's how my friend would ride.
Am I gritting my teeth or was I grinning? I'll leave you to ponder that as I pass by. Today, as things start to get dfficult, I will make sure to enjoy the wind in my face, relish the burn in my legs and seize the moment as each one is a gift - that's why it's called the present.
As he so often did, my friend has gone ahead of the rest of us, he's in the breakaway somewhere. He was born and raised in Tasmania, he was a pure spirit, a great friend to all who knew him, he loved his friends and he lived to ride. He was at home on his bike and it was beautiful to watch.
Tasmania's Mount Wellington rises 1,271 meters above sea level, the climb is just over 21km and yet my friend didn't climb it once.
You see, he used to climb it twice...
It is for him, today, that I chose to ride.
Today, I will ride strong, my cadence will be high and my hands will be soft on the bar. I will pedal in circles today, I will drop my heel on the down stroke, wipe my feet across the bottom then lift and repeat. Core switched on, abs engaged and hips level, because that's how he would ride.
I do not need your wheel, I will not rest in your draft. Today, this is an express and we are not taking passengers. You may catch my wheel and though my bike may weigh two of yours, I plan to make you earn that spot, it is for my friend that I ride today.
I will climb the hills and welcome the head wind and only rise out of the saddle to maintain the pedal stroke as I surge forward. I will respect my fellow road users all the laws bar one, today, the law of gravity can kiss my ass, for I knew a man who didn't once climb Mount Wellington and tonight I will fly.
My socks high, my cycling kit matching and in my jersey pocket will be the most important item for cycling, a handy chapstick - that's how my friend would ride.
Am I gritting my teeth or was I grinning? I'll leave you to ponder that as I pass by. Today, as things start to get dfficult, I will make sure to enjoy the wind in my face, relish the burn in my legs and seize the moment as each one is a gift - that's why it's called the present.
As he so often did, my friend has gone ahead of the rest of us, he's in the breakaway somewhere. He was born and raised in Tasmania, he was a pure spirit, a great friend to all who knew him, he loved his friends and he lived to ride. He was at home on his bike and it was beautiful to watch.
Tasmania's Mount Wellington rises 1,271 meters above sea level, the climb is just over 21km and yet my friend didn't climb it once.
You see, he used to climb it twice...
In memory of John Cornish
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