Back on the Blog. Back on the Bike

12 Apr 2010 by Paul Rutherford

How are you dealing with mid-life? A Harley Davidson and a ponytail? A spiritual retreat up a mountain? Writing the Great Postmodern novel?

For me, it’s getting back on a racing bike.

Of course, it’s not called a racing bike any more; it’s a road bike. But the drop handlebars,  the razor-blade saddle  and the derailleur gears are just the same. And make me feel like a teenager again.

LIFE CYCLE

So what’s prompted the return to the saddle – thirty years since I parted company with the beautiful Carlton Corsa that my parents had previously bought me for passing my school entrance exams?

Like any other mid-life philosopher, it’s the feeling of mortality.

My father had heart surgery late last year. He’d suffered a couple of black-outs (mini-strokes, called TIAs) which finally resulted in keyhole surgery, then a pacemaker.

That  set me reflecting on the heart surgery I had as a child to correct coarctation of the aorta (basically, the main valve was closing up).  In the early 1960s, things were a little more risky; rather than going in through a keyhole, the cardiac sugeon sliced open my chest, sawed apart the sternum, opened my heart, then pin-and-stitched me back together, leaving  a fat, salmon pink zipper down my front.

I haven’t really thought about it for many years, but Dad’s op bought it all back into focus and prompted me to do something as a belated ‘thank you’ to the team that, literally, saved my life.

Hence I’m back on the bike and will be riding from London to Brighton in June this year to raise money for the British Heart Foundation, and perhaps help another child born with a heart defect.

A HEART-FELT PLEA

So I have new wheels, a spiffy heart monitor that tells me exactly how unfit I am, and a pair of figure-hugging leggings that frankly shouldn’t be worn in public.

It’s all just 10 weeks away, and as I sit here after this morning’s training ride, my body is telling me that it will be ready in 5-to-6 months.

The race is on – physical readiness v funds raised.

It’s a fair bet that  the money will cross the line before I do –   I know that generous friends and colleagues will pay handsomely  for the vicarious pleasure of me experiencing the pain of the final hill-climb into Brighton.

If you’d like to share in that once-in-a-lifetime, warm, slightly sadistic glow, please click HERE.

And thank you – from the bottom of my heart.