CYCLE OF LIFE

I want to ride my bicycle

I want to ride my bike

I want to ride my bicycle

I want to ride it where I like

Bicycle races are coming your way

So forget all your duties oh yeah

- QUEEN, 'Bicycle Race'

Queen released this song on 13th October 1978. Freddie Mercury, the Queen's lead man is said to have come up with the ideal while on a holiday in France when the Tour De France went past his hotel room window. Almost 31 years to the day (11 October 2009), Bangalore saw its first ever cyclothon. To release the song, the band staged a bicycle race featuring 65 naked women. The BSA Hercules Cyclothon, mercifully, featured clothed contestants including the writer of this blog.

But this blog on the race is not just about me. It's about the 6,000 odd Bangaloreans who came out in wholehearted support of cycling; it's about the octogenarian who smoothly rode alongside riders 1/4th of his age without missing a beat; it's about one of India's most familiar brand experts who was childlike in his enthusiasm; it's about the children whose enthusiasm was unmatchable; it's about the entrepreneur who just wanted to 'feel young'; it's about the joy of cycling that thousands discovered and will hopefully hang on to after that mad rush of a morning. Nobody was exactly Lance Armstrong or Alberto Contador out there but with bicycles of every conceivable type and make they showed up early in the morning at the magnificent Bangalore International Exhibition Center (BEIC) and stood patiently in line for getting to the start line. A cycle race would be a misnomer to describe the event I was a part of - a 'community ride' would be more appropriate. All the riders were expected to complete the 25km course but there was no competition. As if realizing the festive spirit the weather had smartly stepped aside, leaving us cloudy skies, no sun, a light breeze and fantastic conditions to ride without getting vaporized on the smooth stretch of the Mysore-Bangalore NICE Corridor. I use the word 'smooth' mostly in a figurative sense here, since I discovered how undulating the course was when on my bike.

UP THE STARTING BLOCK, WITHOUT A PEDAL

A bike race is fun alright, but the devil was in the logistical details for me as I ran against the clock to make sure I deposited my bike to the organizers on time for it to be transported to the race venue. In the haste, one of the pedals of the bike came off compounding my woes and as I deposited the cycle in, I realized I would be at the starting line the next morning with one pedal missing, and the bike in a condition that it cannot be ridden! In a sense, I was up the starting block, without a pedal!

ON A BOLT AND A PRAYER

I am fond of all things 80s (perhaps a rub-off of being born in that crazy decade, and living through most of it!) and one of my all time favourite TV series was MacGyver which starred Richard Dean Anderson as MacGyver, a secret agent armed with infinite scientific resourcefulness. He could wriggle out of any situation using stuff he found in and around him. I took inspiration from MacGyver as I searched for something to become my replacement pedal for the race, failing which my race was over before I even got to the starting line. After trying pieces of wood, a piece of plastic pipe, and other stuff I stumbled upon an unclaimed bolt with a nut lying on a table. It was the perfect size to fit through the pedal groove. The idea struck me immediately (confession: I flicked the bolt immediately. Warning: Children, stealing is bad...well, except when a cycle race you've been looking forward to for two months is in jeopardy. 'Better to live with dodgy morals than dodgy pedals!' I say) and I put the bolt in the groove and tightened the nut around it. It fit like a dream, bolstering my belief that the bolt had been delivered by angels at God's behest who'd answered my prayers. Or I was incredibly lucky. Serendipity or Spirituality? Whatever! Seeing the contraption, a fellow rider asked me if I could ride the cycle this way. I confidently said yes, though I seriously doubted if the makeshift pedal would survive 25km. But at least I had a pedal to start with. Thank you, MacGyver!

HERE WE GO

I pushed the cycle into the holding area and after some light warming up began chatting around with fellow riders. There was Harish Gulati, a 47 year old entrepreneur who had decided to become a part of the race to feel a little younger. Looking at the tattoo on his left arm, I suspected running cyclothons were not the only adventurous thing he was upto to feel younger. And the Bianchi cycle he was prodding around led me to believe that his business wasn't doing too badly either. (Bianchi road bikes, the last time I asked, begin retailing at about Rs. 30,000) I also bumped into Harish Bijoor, the brand expert, now clad in cycling gear. His face was lit with excitement, and all you could sense was childlike enthusiasm as the starting time drew near - quite a contrast to his suave demeanor when he is delivering his talks and workshops! But, by far the most inspirational character was Mr. Mahalingeshwar (pic above), an octogenarian (the first words of his on the introduction - 'I am a 1928 model!') who says he's been cycling for over six decades (disclosure: he's even had a heart bypass surgery!). He pointed to the Sport 18 (the organizer) logo on his bib and said that my age is the opposite of that number but I feel exactly this old. He punched me and Mr. Gulati lightly on the arm, pleased with the joke he'd just made. We could only watch wide jawed and I was thinking that at 81, I'd probably be fortunate to participate in a wheelchair race of some sort!

TOUR DE CHANCE

The race began and ended without event for me and despite all the apprehension about the pedal, it held good. I didn't have to get down from the bike even once (I was carrying my own water so didn't have to stop at the aid stations either) as the distance was conquered in an hour and 20 minutes (5 minutes more than I'd targeted). From the start to the halfway turn there were climbs galore. Granted, they weren't exactly the alpine climbs riders contend with at the Tour De France but they were quite taxing no less. Happily, on the return leg they turned into pleasant downhill stretches. A combination of luck and dexterity had seen me end the race in eventless fashion with all bones intact and the cycle still in good shape. I was pleased with how the chances I took paid off. As we crossed the finish line, the teen's ride was flagged off and the plucky teens were immediately off to strutting their stuff. One young boy, about 13-14 I guess, demonstrated a neat wheelie, much to the chargin of the race marshals. I later spotted him boasting 'Uncle! Uncle! Maine stunt maara!' to the ice cream walla!

Cycling is a brilliant amalgamation of both the body and the mind (keeps both invigorated), not to mention the eco friendliness of the endeavor (there were lots of riders with messages on their t-shirts about commuting to work on cycles) and that's what makes it such a joy - whether you are 13, 30 or 81. All I can say is, pedal on! Oh, shoot! That reminds me - gotta take that bolt out and put in a proper pedal there!