Another cycling poem

I seem to have been distracted by nature and history lately, so here’s a new cycling poem to restore the balance. It was late in the evening before I managed to get out yesterday, but it was a classic ride with all the elements that keep me in love with this ridiculous sport: the Madone purring along the road in the warm summer air; carving through bends at high speed; no pain anywhere; and little groups of riders heading home from a local time-trial to create a suitably target-rich environment. Developing arthritis has changed many things, but it hasn’t altered my desire to be in front. And though I blush to admit it, I had a lot of fun chasing down the other guys. I’m paying for it today with some grumbling from my knee. But for the psychological payoff, it was worth it.


Last night
Was just like
Old times:

Cruising the lanes
Like an electric-blue
Hunting convoys
Of home-going riders,
Stalking them on the flats,
Hiding in hedgerows
And bends in the road;
Reeling them in
Then making the kill
On the next hill –

Spinning by, easy,
With a nod to their rolling shoulders
Wide eyes
Open mouths.

Then slipping away
Over the summit
And vanishing
A bit of their souls
In my back pocket.

2 thoughts on “Another cycling poem

  1. I just love this poem since I enjoy cycling too and have on occasions forgotten the sore knees and hip to pursue some fickled moment of the glory of the ride…and like you paid dearly for it the next day.

  2. Pain is temporary; glory lasts forever. Glad you like the poem – and to learn that you’re a fellow cyclist. Something told me you probably were…as my literary/cycling hero Paul Fournel says, ‘the bike is a good place to work for a writer’. Thanks as ever for your comment; it really does mean a lot.

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