Once A levels were cancelled, I needed something to fill my time. I’m not the kind of person that enjoys an empty diary. I need things to do. Anyone who knows me will have encountered my passion for all things cycling. Of course, any new project to fill the empty weeks of lockdown would have to have to be something cycling related – maybe build a new bike or start a new training plan. The thought of (heaven forbid) training for a triathlon even crossed my mind.
Empty Diary
Once A levels were cancelled, I needed something to fill my time. I’m not the kind of person that enjoys an empty diary. I need things to do. Anyone who knows me will have encountered my passion for all things cycling. Of course, any new project to fill the empty weeks of lockdown would have to have to be something cycling related – maybe build a new bike or start a new training plan. The thought of (heaven forbid) training for a triathlon even crossed my mind.
By Bike
However, with everyone stuck at home, and a number of vulnerable people isolating, there was a growing demand for volunteers to deliver important essentials like food or prescriptions. It occurred to me that many of these deliveries could be done by bike, so I set about looking for people in need, mostly through my synagogue, but also through social media channels like Nextdoor and Facebook groups. Slowly but surely, I’ve built up a collection of phone numbers and contacts.
Like the rest of my club though, I had been looking forward to an exciting season of summer racing. Thundering down the race track in a peloton, taking corners and sprinting for the finish line (hopefully in at least a respectable position).
Instead, however, I’ve swapped the lycra (fetching I know) for a t-shirt, shorts and a courier bag. The empty racetrack has become Finchley high street, the feed stops have become pharmacies, and the finish line is a pensioner’s front door. Rather than combing the internet for second hand upgrades or new races to enter, I have been reaching out to people using Nextdoor and the neighbourhood social media groups. I have replaced the friendly chatter of my clubmates with the bleeps of my GPS unit.
Changes
It was a big change for me. The bike I use for couriering is very simple, bought at little expense, used from a teammate, and originally intended just to get me around at uni. It has flat pedals, a steel frame, a single fixed gear, and a brake. This took some getting used to in comparison to my racing bike, with its carbon frame, a full cassette of gears and a ticking freewheel. This wasn’t just about the equipment though. The change of bikes reflected a change of pace for me. I don’t worry about whether I’m in the most efficient gear or training at the right power zone. It’s the purest form of cycling – just turning the pedals to get from A to B.
Whilst group rides are banned at the moment, couriering has been an even more sociable form of cycling for me. There’s something about being clipped into your bike for a few hours that can make you feel distanced from the rest of the world, but I now encounter all sorts of interesting characters throughout my day. Every delivery is usually accompanied by a good few minutes of chat (from the other end of a driveway, of course). I’ll often phone someone to discuss the details of a prescription and end up hearing all about a virtual bridge game or a grandson (always a Doctor). The sad truth is, I’m often the only real-life person a lot of them have seen in a while – but it does mean I’m always greeted with a smile.
I think there’s something about the bike too. The older generations grew up riding to school on fixed gear bikes, not dissimilar to mine, and I see an element of happy nostalgia when they open the door to see a young face smiling at them from under a helmet.
Josh – an article originally written for my school newspaper
