Family Fitness Magazine

A Personal View, by Steve Thomas

It’s great being a dad, it’s 8 o’clock and a beautiful; early autumn day.
First challenge, getting a fourteen year-old girl out of her bed, second challenge, getting her out of the house.
“I’ve got nothing to wear?”
“It’s a bike ride, not a catwalk, trainers, t shirt, trousers, sweatshirt, helmet, gloves?”
“I hate these leggings”
“The ones that were your favourite leggings last week?”
“Whatever”
We’re outside, it’s brisk but dry, sunshine through the trees is lovely
“We’re not going far are we dad?”
“No, ten miles or so, see how it goes”
“I think my knee is broken”
“Never mind, off we go”
Down the bridle path, easy, straight, slightly downhill, a little speed to get the legs and heart going, a little splash to get past the “keeping my trainers clean” reflex. A stretch of country road, very quiet, pass three horsewomen, fluorescent equestriennes, mutual “lovely morning” greetings
Another stretch of bridleway, harder, muddier, more effort, tighter, more concentration, we’re breathing hard at the end of it
“Are we nearly there yet?”
“Not quite, look at the deer”
Rabbits dash across our path, deer startle, then stop, warily watching, half a mile of quiet road then off, past the ford, alongside the stream,
“Hey, what’s the best thing about riding by streams, canals, rivers, the sound, the water, the birds, the freshness?”
“It’s flat, I think my gears are broken”
“OK, I’ll have a look when we get to the mountains”
“Ha Ha, you’re not funny Dad”
Past the pub, past a sign
“Dad, that sign says, ‘Steep Hill’
“Don’t worry, It’s only steep coming down,, we’re going up”
“You’re still not funny Dad”
Puffing, panting, a tough climb, I’m trying to encourage and be supportive, she thinks I’m trying to stop her walking the tough bits, she’s right, she walks the tough bits, no problem, keep her enjoying it, no point in making it a fight.
A gulp of water, a catching of breath, we’re both hot now, off again.
A climb through the woods, ancient beeches lining the old drive to the big house, a still lake, a limpid pool, dog walkers, mushroom hunters, another cyclist, bright red specialized, all carbon, nice bike, exchange of pleasantries
“Nice day for it”
“Always is”
Silence, then
“He looked much fitter than you Dad”
“Don’t forget I’m the one who knows the way home”
“You look good for your age though”
“Thanks dear”
Up and onto the common, out of the trees and a long gravely, muddy scramble through the gorse to the copse, enjoy the view; the Motorway hums below, Heathrow to the East, Bracknell to the North. A gulp of water, some sympathy around discovered spots of mud on a favourite Abercrombie top and we’re off again, a fast gravely descent, under the motorway, follow the trail, down, down, down, up, down, down and up again, along squelchy tracks, over the bridge, over the railway, lean the bikes outside a café.
“Do you fancy a juice?”
“Can I go to sleep now”
“After your juice”
A well-earned coffee, water, muffins and juice, restock, recharge, chat to chums out on their road bikes, I’m impressed, I like my road bike but it’s a summer game for me, it’s now too late in the season, it’s too cold, too wet, too slippy for me on the highway but there’s almost no weather that stops mountain bike fun.
“Ready to roll?”
“Can’t we get a taxi, I think my feet are faulty”
“It’s not far now, it’s a straight run home”
“No hills?”
“Not many”
“I hate you Dad”
“I know love, let’s go”
A long gradual climb then back into the trees, an adrenaline fuelled downhill, fast as you like, single-track switchback, nettles whipping, wheels sliding, total focus, just enjoying the ride, Cha right behind me, it’s easier following, no route finding, as long as I get it right, she’s squealing with delight, she likes downhill.
Out of the woods and a gentle climb homewards, side-by-side, chatting about school, boys, trees, mum, skiing, birds, car drivers and friends. Spray the bikes down, Muc-off and hosepipes, it’s built into human nature, the need to splash each other, the bikes are clean, we’re filthy.
“Go and have a shower love, sorry if that was miserable for you”
“It was horrible, I think my spine and legs are permanently damaged, I’m calling Childine”
“I’m sorry love, I’m a bad dad”
“Never mind Dad you do your best, Can we do it again next weekend?”

© Steve Thomas