As a nation we’ve a very unhealthy relationship with a little bit of sun. As soon as a ray (or two) escapes from behind a cloud we strip down to our underwear and attempt to barbecue ourselves – just in case that’s all we’re getting until next year. I’m convinced there are thousands of men who wear Speedos under their clothes all the time (other types of swimming trunks are available, apparently) so they’re prepared if the summer arrives during their lunch break. It seems these fellas actually enjoy their masochistic attempt to show just how unkind Mother Nature can be, and embrace the waves (light, not water).
When I started writing about cycling I had to make the decision (and it was a decision) to be honest.
What do I mean?
In short, I had to make it clear that I wasn’t one of those lean, mean, ‘cool’ cyclists who clock up 100s of miles without breaking sweat…