Sport

A lifelong love of cycling is represented here in just a few pictures. I cannot remember my early experience with protective headgear, but later, I do recall learning to ride (and balance) up and down the street on which we lived. I remember the exhilaration of combining one, two, or more pedal revolutions with some slightly shaky steering. After learning to ride in a straight line, I still remember trying to turn, but often ended up coming to grief against a parked car.

Like many before, the bicycle represented freedom, excitement and exercise. It was stable (once mastered), reliable (when maintained) and above all, fun. Following my brother’s lead, I joined my local cycling club as a schoolboy and took my love of the bike to new levels – eating, sleeping and thinking about bikes whenever I wasn’t actually riding one. Racing and training took up much time. My preferred discipline was cyclo-cross – a specialised winter sport demanding speed, agility and some daring on two thin wheels. It gave fair returns in terms of training input, something I valued as a junior rider.

As the years passed, my competitive urge started to wane, or became tempered by other things – possibly a realisation that the higher echelons of the sport would not be my home. I tried alternatives such as weight training and body-building. However, nothing could compare to the joys of cycling, and so I maintained an existence as an ex-racer who went out now and again when the weather looked inviting and time permitted.

Then one day as the years were slipping away I noticed something unusual and disturbing in a bike shop – a unicycle. It brought back hazy memories of my youth. I remembered once taking a hacksaw to an unwanted child’s bike and trying to make one, but as I didn’t really know what I was doing, I was left with a pile of rather useless bits. Now, something had been re-awakened and in a daze I left the shop and returned to work. Later, I returned and bought it – wheeling it all the way home, and not really having the first idea how difficult it would be or how to get started.

The initial attempts were not very encouraging. I tried riding along narrow corridors, with each hand against the wall for balance only to fall, usually on top of the unicycle in that confined space. I also tried using two walking sticks, but they made the precarious activity even more difficult. It became apparent that I needed to practice somewhere with a little more space and so I took my unicycle into the public arena. I practised in parks where people would generally give me a smile and a wide berth (for their safety and mine) and empty car parks where I could practise largely undisturbed. Each new place would give me new inspiration and my hope would be that THIS would be the place where I would learn to ride.

There came a point where I got so fed up with the thing that I just let it go. Trying to stay on it, let alone ride it was so difficult that I stopped practising and unconsciously admitted defeat. Then one day as I was cycling through the city, I saw two young boys playing with one. One of them couldn’t ride but the other could, and in that moment watching, I saw myself there, wobbling along with them and laughing all the way home. At this point it struck me – it’s all about joy, happiness. Ride and be happy, be happy and ride. With a new resolve, I was determined to ride. Back at home, I checked my calendar and noticed that the first of May was just one week away – this would be my target date. In that week I wobbled, rode, fell off (backwards and forwards) but by the end, the goal was won, and I COULD RIDE!

With each skill mastered, another presents itself as a challenge. Some are purely practical – like being able to free-mount (starting off riding without having to hold onto a support) while others are much more for fun (kick-up mounts and hop-spins)

Learning each new trick feels like a new beginning. The inability to perform a move still reminds me how I felt when first learning. The almost hopeless feeling while falling off continually (often at the same point each time), until a glimmer of hope appears and for a split second, you were up and if not successfully doing the trick, then somewhere on the way…. before loosing it. So little by little you go on practising, extending that split second by another split second and so with a cautious optimism you practice more the day after and increase your split seconds to whole seconds until the trick becomes yours, the skill has been mastered and is at your command. You can call upon it, and perform it at your sweet will.

The parallels with the spiritual life are so apparent to me. Apart from the unicycle’s ability to give joy and spread it to others, the actual practise feels so like the inner life it often makes me laugh. When considering a new trick, it often feels absolutely impossible, but after reading about how it may be performed, or watching someone actually do it, the impossible becomes possible. With practice, patience and perseverance, the possible becomes probable and finally inevitable. This cycle is continually repeated however, as each trick tests, refines and pushes the rider’s skill levels in new and challenging ways. In an identical way, each part of our make up that is less than perfect is gradually improved by a steady practise of the inner life.

Because of my love of mountain biking, I felt it only natural to take my unicycle off-road. I had seen pictures and videos of riders hopping and gliding over difficult terrain and felt encouraged to try the same. How difficult it was I could not even begin to imagine. The transition from smooth tarmac to muddy rocks and roots, climbs and descents was so extreme that very little riding actually resulted from my early off – road attempts. This time however, I knew better than to give up. Some years have passed and I am generally able to ride the same terrain as mountain bikes. A different set of riding skills has to be developed to cover such terrain in the sport of Muni (Mountain UNIcycling).

A more recent development in my riding practice has been the ‘Ultimate Wheel’. This just a unicycle wheel and pedals. There is no saddle or frame. With these points of stability and contact removed, the wheel is free to swing from side to side under pressure from the pedals. With practice, it is possible to ride without the wheel wavering too much and this control allows more advanced skills to be developed.

It continues to make me laugh – the transition from traditional racing cyclist to unicyclist practising tricks in the park, but I realise that for me, the most important thing is to be happy riding. To be happy with the exercise offered and to practise regularly but without being frustrated when things do not work. After learning to ride in a straight line forwards, everything else now feels like a bonus.