In Praise of “Le Vélo”

A recent visit by two extremely fit, health conscious and more importantly; young members of our family suddenly made my husband and I very aware of our lack of energy. They highlighted our deficiency in the “get-up-and-go” department; our desire to swim, play tennis and leap on our bikes was still there but our bodies needed more convincing.

 

How could this happen when we are lucky enough to live in the heart of the country surrounded by sea, inviting places to walk and empty roads to cruise along on our bikes? The question had to be addressed and this was the couple more than capable of dealing with it and the answer was simple; our problem was evidently laziness! A lazy lifestyle and too may trips to the boulangerie. (By car!)

 

The first appraisal of our stamina was observed during what is usually a gentle but pleasurable cruise into our nearest village to purchase the obligatory baguette; which on that day would also serve as a way of putting into practice the French phrases of our guests. From the outset my husband and I realised we would not score high marks for our efforts; lack of road awareness, unsuitable old badly maintained bone-shaker bikes, meandering in the middle of roads to gaze at cows, far too slow and just downright dangerous riders. Whereas the language exercises of our young erudite trainers was impressive. I believe the habitual “afternoon aperitif break” at our friendly neighbours on the return journey may have reduced our score; although the homemade cider got the thumbs-up from everyone.

 

Walking of course is a pleasure in Brittany especially in summer and especially along the coasts which holds; in every direction you care to look stunning views. After clambering over rocks and studying the exterior and interior of old ruins we returned home to an evening (no, not to a comfortable game of cards) but a vigorous game of tennis in the garden. My husband was very quiet for the rest of that evening as exhaustion seemed to settle in and it had an adverse effect on his vocal chords but strangely did little to improve his snoring!

 

Another day and another invitation to go cycling, this was nimbly averted by the suggestion to swim in the sea.  An appropriate beach was chosen and coupled with glorious sunshine our young companions expended their energy while my husband floated on his back and I (enrobed in full body armour of the rubbery kind) splashed in waves and seaweed.

 

Our trainers are formidable bikers, road and racing bikes their passion and we  followed the start of the “Tour de France” each day; in French at our neighbours and English at ours. So it was inevitable that there had to be one last more challenging (for my husband and I that is) ride before their departure.

 

The weather was perfect, the bikes were tuned and the muscles toned. The route was planned and the water bottles filled and after saying farewell to our worried looking little dog we set off.

 

 

“Les chemins” all around us are a sheer delight to explore on a bike in summer. The crops in the fields are ripening, there are the sounds of crickets and bees in the hedgerows, sparrow hawks hovering above you; and you would be forgiven for thinking it is England twenty years ago. But there is no letting-up as we head off to a place we have never cycled before, it is full steam ahead.

 

It was going well until the very deceivingly long steep rise to one of the villages en route. For some reason unbeknown to me at the time, my bike became increasingly difficult to pedal. My personal trainers did not give up on me, positioning themselves expertly one on either side, they made encouraging noises (which were audible above the wheezing of my lungs) and I managed to remain in the saddle to the village church. My husband cruising gently and with dignity brought up the rear.  It was great!

 

At that moment I realised bikes are liberating, without an engine, without pollution I could work off pent up energy and discover more of the pleasures of the great outdoors.

 

One of my trainers offered me her rather expensive bike to ride home on, I quickly handed her my more modest mode of transport and I sped off.  It was then I had my second revelation of the day, as riding the red shiny bike without a scratch on it, was a completely different experience to riding mine. It was ‘a real bike’ equipped with gears that work, large bulky tyres that are built to repel landslides and a suspension that protects your tender areas from unexpected impacts. My trainer was having a quite different experience on a very unsafe bike. On closer inspection by my husband a few days later it was revealed to be due to the back wheel being lodged tightly within the mudguard, the friction could have caused it to explode. 

 

Sadly our guests have departed, but their legacy lives on in the lives of two; thanks to them, not so unfit fifty-something’s. Lycra may not be complimentary to everyone’s physique, but enhancing your enjoyment of life is as easy as riding a bike.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Comments

[lavenderbongo]

Sounds like great fun - you will have to try out the rather more hilly routes around here!