Slow to try new things? Sometimes all we need is a little encouragement to grease the wheels
Let me bring you up to speed on the cycling. What do you mean you missed that column? A couple of weeks ago I revealed my awkwardness at having to purchase cycling clothing to go on a cross-country ride with my friend Chiara in Mallorca. The securing of the “bib” had been the troubling part. This is the garment that looks like something that a wrestler might wear – tight Lycra shorts with over-the-shoulder brace-like elements and extensive padding around one’s bottom. Imagine always having your favourite cushion down the back of your pants.
I would like to report that all went rather well on the initial outing – the padding was a delight – and so Chiara subsequently found me ringing repeatedly on her doorbell asking if she wanted to come out and play (and would she kindly lend me her bike again).
Last Saturday she relented and we struck out from the town of Inca, heading up to Selva and Caimari before reaching Pollença in the north. It only takes a couple of hours to get there and back, a modest 45km. But even so, for the newbie it was exhilarating. The orchards and vineyards. Birdsong. The roads covered by an arching canopy of trees. The locals having a morning beer at the village bar. The sheared sheep with bells clanking around their necks (were they thinking, “I really must go and see the vets about this tinnitus. I’m sure it’s getting worse,” or was the sound more of a fun soundtrack, their version of classic clangers available on Sheepify?).
Oh, and the borrowed bike just whirred along. Chiara did have to slow her pace to avoid my humiliation. Yet, even so, I would occasionally lose sight of her, only to find her some minutes later catching up on complicated emails or completing her tax return while she waited for me to huff and puff into view. Did I mention that there were hills? Having been promised that it would be “quite flat”, I was surprised just how many times she had to shout things over her shoulder like, “Basically it’s uphill for the next kilometre.”
It’s also fair to say that Chiara is a little competitive. There were a couple of moments when she would turn to inform me that we needed to overtake the cyclist in front of us. This always struck me as unwise. Thankfully, these incidents were rare – well, how many one-legged nonagenarians carrying home a large sack of potatoes were we going to spot? Anyway, we made it and we’ve already agreed on a bigger adventure.
Beyond the cycling and my tenderised derrière, there’s something else that has stayed with me – how slow we can be to try new things. It’s so easy to think that you’ve left it too late to change course, to expose yourself to new experiences. Yet when someone shows the way, takes their time to encourage you and works around your fear of humiliating yourself, it’s funny how things can work out OK.
Last week I wrote about Monocle’s upcoming Quality of Life Conference in Barcelona (What? You missed that column too?). Subsequently I received a great email from someone who was looking forward to attending but confessed that they were also nervous because they would be coming solo and tend towards shyness. I say it was a “great email” because of how good it is to know yourself like this, to understand that you might need someone to have your back, to flag your concerns. I assured them that all would be dandy – most people come alone – and that we needed to find each other at the opening reception so that I could help them meet other delegates and the Monocle crew.
So, yes, the conference. It’s just three weeks away and I cannot wait. There’s an incredible line-up of speakers but this is also an event that takes flight because of the interactions that happen offstage. The friendships that form. If you have never come to one of our conferences before, come for the ride. It will be fun – and you don’t even need clothing with a protective gusset.
One final cycling detail. Someone I know – lets call him Tom because, well, that’s his name – dropped me a note about the bib tale to suggest potentially “double-bibbing” for extra comfort. Perhaps this is some weird cyclists’ prank that you play on the convert but, if not, what would that look like? I have already explained that wearing the bib feels like you are sitting on a family-sized tortilla – but double-padding? You might as well have a truckle of parmesan down there.
Happy Saturday and I promise no bottoms next week.
