First published April 29, 2019
Last week, whilst strolling around Port de Pollenca in search of some lunch, I bumped into some old friends. After exclaiming our surprise at happening upon each other, which wasn’t the greatest shock really considering we were in this cycling Mecca at Easter, they dropped the bombshell, “you’re looking good.” As cyclists, these little words always strike at our very core. Good? Looking good? We all know this is code for overweight.
When I was a fat lad, all those years ago, I’d step on the scales every day and take delight in seeing a smaller number each time. Weight loss was easy. It was a carrot and stick type of thing. The carrot: better time trial performance. And the stick? Going on my first club ride with my brother and one helpful wannabe saying, “Christ, we know who ate all the pies!”
Of course, one day, I reached my target weight. Little did I know that I’d just entered the purgatory of ‘just 7-lbs’ (3 kilos or half a stone, whatever you want to call it). Today, I look in the mirror and, although there may be a few abs showing, there’s an inflated zone around what would complete a six-pack and wobbly bits that spill out to the side where I expect perfectly sculptured obliques. If only I could lose 7-lbs – I’d fly uphill, and my cycling jersey, where it no longer clings, would flutter in the wind. Oh, I’d be so happy.
But, and it’s always a big but, I’ll never lose those pounds. I look back on photos from 2011, where my gaunt face and skinny torso made me look ill (it’s true, everyone told me so), and I remember that I was happy because I was closing in on race weight - all I had to do was lose 7 more pounds and I’d be complete.
After all these years of chasing those elusive pounds, what have I learnt? Forget the weight and buy a lighter bike.
Photo Credit: Evelyn
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