Once upon a bike

Once upon a time.

I remember going down a mountain at 30 km/h holding on for dear life, traffic building up behind me until the police patrol called over the speaker that I should pull over to let the traffic pass. How embarrassing.

And today I'm going down a mountain at 90 km/h hoping to hit a 100 km/h grinning like a lunatic.

I remember flipping everyone off and hitting cars over the slightest violations. Throwing water bottles at offending cabs and buses. I call it amateur anger syndrome.

Now when the minibus rubs my shoulder as it passes me I just shake my head in insincere disbelief. And turn up my music as that disturbed guy honks angrily.

I remember flying across oily wet streets into light-posts and walls thinking I'm the shit. Like a boss, road rash sticking to my hairy legs, howling in the shower, missing my mommy.

Now I shave my legs more often than my face, in fact I forget to shave my face for weeks at a time, yet risks have lost their appeal. To be the shit is to get home the same way I went out - well with a better tan of course.

KOMS, the holy grails, nothing would get in my way. I'm here. I'm f'ng here, move out of my way. KOMs of assholes I call them.

Today I go for them still, but when that old lady tries to cross the road, I smile and wave my hand for her to cross as I abort.

And once I was an athlete, everywhere I went, all I did, all I talked, all I breathed.

And today I'm just a guy who works hard and plays hard.