Are you A Cyclist? Some of us don’t really want to identify in this way at all. In fact when I was talking to VV’s very own Phil about this here blog he was adamant that he and Liz are not Cyclists, they are people who love cycling.

I’m A Cyclist and quite proud. It’s in my Twitter profile, my Instagram, my blog description – it feels like part of who I am. I’m not A Cyclist at the expense of anything – I’m also a mother, a wife, an author, a journalist, a sister, a friend and so on. (I’m also A Car Driver but it’s probably quite telling that I don’t identify as A Motorist)

I do see the negative side of being A Cyclist. In fact I experience it quite regularly. Just in the last few weeks I’ve been A ****ing Cyclist on two separate occasions!

To my horror she proceeded to pull out and around me, placing her vehicle directly into the path of oncoming traffic.

The first time, it was by a rather harassed-looking lady who took personal offence at me taking primary position approaching a roundabout (at which I was turning right).

To my horror she proceeded to pull out around me, placing her vehicle directly into the path of oncoming traffic, whilst leaning out of the window to berate me instead of looking at aforementioned oncoming traffic.

I was terrified for her life. She was more interested in informing me, loudly and aggressively, that I was in the middle of the road.

My second brush with being A ****ing Cyclist came on Box Hill when I picked up a drawing pin in my front wheel.

Curious, that I had more concern for her safety than she did. That’s ****ing Cyclists for you.

My second brush with being A ****ing Cyclist came on Box Hill when I picked up a drawing pin in my front wheel.

I’ve seen the odd tweet or two before today about riding over drawing pins at this Mecca for Surrey cyclists. I just wonder what sort of person would find it entertaining or rewarding to painstakingly put drawing pins, spike side up, onto the carriageway then go home cackling with glee at the anticipation of inconveniencing somebody else purely because of their choice of transport and/or hobby.

****ing Cyclists, eh? You sure showed us!

But then there’s the nice side of being A Cyclist...

A number of fellow Cyclists – whether they identify as such or not – stopped on Box Hill, asked me if I was OK and even offered their equipment. It really feels like part of being a family sometimes, a really awesome family that doesn’t show pictures of you naked as a two-year-old in a paddling pool to all potential suitors.

The number of fellow Cyclists riding 100 miles with my husband and me a few weeks ago at RideLondon, all contributing to something bigger and greater than the sum of its parts. How many hundreds of thousands of pounds for good causes were raised that Sunday? And the number of Cyclists and Non-Cyclists, or people as we might prefer to call them, cheering the Cyclists/people on. Taking time out of their day to come and be part of something, embrace the spirit, love two wheels.

I love being A Cyclist - A ****ing Cyclist - A Person. It really is all it’s cracked up to be.


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