One such moment occurred only recently. And it was good to know, despite the multi-tasking negotiations required to travel our fair city, that one still manages to freewheel mentally, every now and then. Maybe it was the conditions - cloudy, yet humid and oppressive. Or the cadence - high and regular. Or maybe even the snack we had just eaten - sweet and unnecessary. What was apparent, a very distracting thought, or pedaling perplexity made itself known. "Am I a cyclist?"In the purest essence of the proposition, considering we were engaged in the act of riding a cycle, the answer was clearly "yes". Yet that solution was wholly unsatisfactory. We wanted to clarify, and to a greater extent qualify what a foursquare (perhaps tworound, in this case) cyclist is. Making ground on two, air-filled rubber wheels does not make a cyclist. Nor donning the rapid-wicking threads and oft retro-referencing garments one can climb into, in the name of our principal protagonist. Similarly, subscribing to a lush biking bi-annual, or optioning mentholated chamois creme. Such practices evolve in time, with a certain magnetic inevitability, yet none, we felt, made one a bona fide cyclist. Furthermore, being environmentally or ecologically motivated, does not make one a cyclist (such labels come littered with hypocrisy). And of those who only ride when the swifts are among us...
Perhaps then the journey? Do you become a cyclist by looking at a map, then cranking from A to B? If so, does there therefore need to be some intrinsic purpose? A rolling raison d'être. I bike therefore I am. Which is in itself raises a very poignant issue for us at NÖ, having recently (and bluntly) been required to satisfy the following line of interrogation "So why did you do it [cycle from Genoa to Gerona]?" "Because it was there," was our mutual response. Maybe that makes us cyclists. Maybe not.Is it then an issue of frequency? Cycling every day should suffice. If not, what of three times a week. Once a week. Every now and then. And this in turn might be just one layer of a beautifully-crafted linear equation, the others introducing values of intensity, cadence and lycra content. (A-B) + u x L = C. Somehow this solution lacked a certain human aspect, a soul, if you will.
This would suggest our answer lies in plaques, prizes and podiums. To be a cyclist, need there be some level of competition? Or even financial gain. Albeit in some nebulous fashion. Making it one's profession, and primary means of support would certainly endow any individual with the biking badge of honour. If this is not the case, one can never honestly respond to the question "What do you do?" by declaring "I'm a cyclist." That being so, the mantle of cyclist, per se, needs clarification. One couldn't rightly claim to being a fireman, for example, by extinguishing the odd vagrant camp fire once or twice a year. Ergo, it has to be a proportional issue - the paradigm best resolved with a kaleidoscopic Venn diagram. If your largest wedge of colour is spent riding a bike, you have indeed arrived.Such thinking seemed to qualify the solution. That being so, I am not a cyclist.
Not exactly the outcome we had hoped for. But NÖ being NÖ, we went a little further, and happened upon a much more succinct and satisfactory consensus omnium. One we had inadvertently published quite some time ago. For hard-wired in to the NÖ Endeavour manifesto is a short phrase which we realised makes us what we are. It is our A to Z, our metier, our motive, our impetus - the urge to ride a bike.
So the answer is 'yes'.
