The Sunday Spin

Much maligned and cursed by motorists, the usual drivel from self appointed experts on telly and radio, many column inches written and published. It’s an integral, but sadly diminishing part of the cycling community. It’s the Sunday Spin.

In every city, town and village throughout the country, people get out of bed on a Sunday morning and check their social media feed, to find out where the group is heading. For people like me, there is no such thing as a Sunday morning, as the birds are normally in full chorus mode as I hit the pillow. Such is life.

Yesterday morning however, the sun was shining, there was just a gentle breeze and Clonmel CC were heading my way. They would leave Clonmel shortly after 10am, meaning they would hit Cahir about 10.40am. (See, I’m “making the calculations”, as the great man would say). A reasonably early night, (if you consider 3am early), the previous night, meant I was fresh enough, so I headed out to meet the gang. After a while, the red and white of the new kit comes into view. It’s a handy group of 10 riders, clipping along, chatting about everything from bikes, to training, to that day’s Tour of Flanders. I jump onto the back of the group and immediately, feel that sense of being pulled along, that sense that you will only get on a group spin. It’s a tight formation, the rider at the front setting the pace, calling out the hazards, while the rest of the group sit in. Their turn will come to go out front too.

Over the last few years, I have taken part in quite a few events and one of the biggest changes I have noticed, is the inability of people to ride in a large group. It’s a skill that needs to be learned and it is vital to your enjoyment of the sport. It’s very simple to do, with a little practice and the only place you will learn it, is to get out with your club or local group. There is nothing worse than taking part in an event and getting caught behind somebody that hasn’t a clue how to do it. We’ve all seen them, zig zagging around the road, not calling out potholes, “sitting in”, refusing to work, half wheeling, erratic, poor handling skills. The list goes on.

Anyway, yesterday morning, the group passed through Cahir, en route to Clogheen. As we headed down Castle Street, locals and a few tourists stood by, to watch this cavalcade of carbon fibre and lycra pass. There was a lot of talking going on and a few suggestions were made that it might be no harm to throw in a few hills to quieten fellas down a bit. As we turned in Clogheen, a suggestion was made that maybe we would head up to Loughlin’s bridge, to test the climbing legs. This idea was quickly rubbished and the group turned towards Newcastle. The gentle breeze is now on our backs and we roll along contentedly. Through Newcastle and there’s a few bumps to be negotiated, before we reach the Clonmel road again. The stronger riders are now starting to show their strength and are doing more pulls on the front. “Slow down ta f*ck”, is the shout from behind. As we head along the top towards Knocknamullagh, a guy on a motorbike pulls a wheelie, as he passes. (It was probably a good idea in his own head at the time, heaven only knows why). “I bet he has a very small mickey” is the quip from somebody in the group, to howls of laughter.

As we approach Kilmacomma, candidates for “the gallop” are starting to line up. Some riders move over, as they are not interested, but the usual suspects wait for their “Sam Bennett” moment. Where Sam can sprint totally under his own steam, at high speed, fellas like us need a steep hill and a tail wind. “Up, Up, Up” is the call and the gallop starts. It’s first to Kilmacomma and bragging rights for the week. The speed reaches 60kph for about 10 seconds and Brian wins it. The rest of us rue our decisions, in my case going out too early, when in reality, it’s purely a distinct lack of ability.

Some people head back to Tesco, while a few of us do a few extra miles. Down near Thorny Bridge, another question is asked. “Would it be a bit stupid to attempt Tickincor?”. “It sure would”, is the answer, “but if you want to be that stupid, we’ll wait for you when you come back down”. There’s something about that 3km of road, that scares the living hell out of bike riders. We’ve all been up there lots of times, but it still freaks out the head.

A few riders accompany me part of the way home. The gentle breeze from earlier in the morning is now getting a little stronger, but it’s on my back. I make good headway and I’m back in Cahir in no time at all. Into “The Bean” for a well earned BLT and Coffee with Tom. A chat, check our computers and plan our next meet up. All too soon, the Sunday Spin is over.

A few things came to mind yesterday morning. In every village and town, there were bike riders stopped at small shops and cafés, buying coffee, lunches and snacks, spending money, supporting local small businesses. Every now and then, the call went out, “car back”, meaning riders moved over to let traffic pass. The entire group was held together all the time, so nobody was dropped. There was the usual gallop, to stretch out the legs, as happens in every group. Once it was over, the group all came back together again. Earphones, headphones or all that other nonsense that was on the airwaves recently are scorned and would not be tolerated on The Sunday Spin. At all times, the rules of the road are respected. Any messing, is not acceptable. You are representing your club on a Sunday Spin, you remember that.

Yesterday was my first spin with Clonmel CC in some time, mainly due to my late night working at weekends, but I need to make a bigger effort to get out more with them. It was possibly the best bike ride I’ve had in some time.

Below, is a map of our morning and a few stats.

There was also a shorter, slower spin yesterday morning, more suited to newer riders.

If you want to take your cycling to the next level, or to improve yourself, join your local club, it’s the best place to do it.