"Gowan the Tiernan's"

~ Andy Lakes ~

My last few spins have all been exactly 20km. In a gym. Sacrilege. On one of these ‘spins’, I caught a glimpse of my reflection and was horrified to see my curved back with a prominent, my hips jiggling and legs pumping from an incorrectly positioned saddle. I wouldn’t mind but I took about 15 minutes to set up the darned exercise bike. I turned to the chap beside me to share my sad news, but he was looking at himself in the mirror. In his skintight tracksuit bottoms. With no socks. No socks!

Upset, I trudged down for a wash followed by the jacuzzi. Popping into the warm, bubbling depths beside the world’s hairiest man, I realised that I hadn’t washed all the suds off myself and once submerged, they multiplied with abandon, creating what could be best described as the saddest foam party this side of Ibiza.

Exercise bikes should be banned.

Parallel to my increasing crankiness, I noticed that on recent real spins on the road that less people say hello or wave. Probably too good to waste energy on amateurs. Gone are the days when a group would ‘Mexican Wave’ you when passing. The talented riders nearly always have time for some sort of acknowledgement. It’s the middle of the road (not literally) riders that don’t do it.

I heard someone say that cycling is the new golf for many corporate types. The sort of people who seem pleasant enough to work with but who would never dream of going having their lunch with you. Not wanting to tar all golfers with the same baseball bat, I’m sure there are plenty of wonderful people who participate. My only experience with that world was the time I took a shortcut/toilet stop on a local course. In their defence, no members complained. The fact that it was midnight might have had something to do with it.

What was I talking about? Oh yes, cycling and golf. I’m sure golfers say hello to each other so it mustn’t be that. Further research suggests rugby. The cycling non wavers don’t look like rugby people. I know we’re a South Dublin club, but the part of South Dublin I’m from doesn’t have many (the ‘m’ may be silent in that word) rugby clubs. I think I know two people who played that game so I probably know less about it than I do about golf. So let’s assume they are nice people.

Runners. Could it be runners? I hope not. They seem pleasant enough. Although, I do remember stumbling along a mountain trail enjoying the sights and sounds when one of those creatures emerged from another path, powering along in his vest and short shorts. Unusually, he wore massive headphones, presumably listening to motivational tunes to block out those pesky sounds of nature. Maybe runners don’t wave. Or even like running.

Swimmers? Definitely not. They are good at waves (see what I did there?) and are a genuinely friendly, welcoming type. Even the fast ones who swim with those cute little floaty handbags will acknowledge anyone venturing into the water.

I’m no further along the line of identifying these non wavers. I hope it’s not a societal thing. Could ALL people be less friendly? Even cyclists? Is it me? Maybe the people who don’t wave just know me and don’t want to wave. That would make more sense.

I recall stepping out of the car for a combined ramble and toilet break up on the Featherbeds about a year ago. Stumbling back through the undergrowth, I spotted a lone rider in the distance. Full of joy I charged towards the road and bellowed “Gowan the Tiernan’s” as he passed. He was terrified and sped away. Putting my clothes back on, I wandered back to the car. Dejected.

I wonder if my hello sounds passive-aggressive? “Say hello to me or I’ll hate you”.

I’ll do some more research tomorrow as I trundle through another 20km on that awful gym bike. If you see me, I promise

Two pleasant gentlemen who would definitely wave if they saw you. (Mr. Lakes & Mr. Hayden)