Bloody Students! my battle with the bike

Phoebe Inglis-Holmes is an honours year multimedia journalism student, aspiring radio presenter, music festival obsessive and green tea connoisseur.

At least once a month my boyfriend tries to tell me I need to cycle more often. 'You never try new things', he says. 'We could have fun cycling adventures together', he says. It doesn't help that my friend, fellow graduate blogger Gillian, and her boyfriend cycle everywhere but, she coincidentally works at Scottish Cycling so her passion for it is clear. However, for me, cycling heralds a world of pain, sweat and aggrivation , and that's just trying to get on the bike.

It's not like I don't do enough exercise. I go to the gym at least 4 times a week, I walk everywhere, I hula hoop and poi and run around with my mates, so adding yet another thing to my arsenal just isn't necessary. And yet every time we pass glasgows less fancy version of the boris bike my boyfriend looks at them lustfully, as if actually embarking on a ride with them would be like in an advert and that my hair would lusciously whip behind me as we laughed together whilst moving through green beautiful parks. The few times I've attempted it, the reality has been lactic acid in my legs building to a pain worse than childbirth, gravity suddenly seeming like a theory rather than a fact, and mixture of road fear and road rage building inside me like an incredibly active volcano.

You'd think that my boyfriend, who's had a serious mountain bike accident in the past and who's brothers have also suffered nasty falls from biking, would want to protect precious Phoebe. Apparently not, despite Glasgow arguably being one of the most dangerous cities for cyclists in Scotland. But he’s not the only one - people ask me how I can be bothered to walk to work, and used to ask me on a daily basis how I could bring myself to walk 40 minutes to university, informing me, the teuchter of the class, that there are actually buses in the city. So - breaking news - I just want to declare my adoration for walking. I like strolling, taking my time. I like having a pavement upon which I can plod and not worry about sudden death by car door or right of way. I love feeling the fresh breeze on my face without whipping myself into it forcefully so that it hurts my cheeks and hands. I take no pleasure in pedalling. I have nothing against those who cycle, but for me, I remain quite content with feet, not wheels.  

The mountain bike does not maketh the man.

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