Fair play???

Cycling has had its fair share of doping scandals in the past and as a result, it is always under the eye of regulatory bodies and the media. Even the slightest, unfounded hint of foul play can attract a flurry of publicity with the majority wanting to throw those involved onto the coals. In the eye of the public, cycling is now seen as a sport tarnished by doping and is fighting to keep, or even regain, its credibility, even though, according to the World Anti-Doping Agency, there were more adverse findings last year in the sports of Bridge, Billiards and Chess!

Recently, Australian sport has had its first ever major drugs-in-sports crisis with the 2011 Cronulla Sharks rugby league team. 17 players and staff from the squad are allegedly involved in ‘unknowingly’ taking prohibited substances through the club’s supplement program. Almost 2 years after the fact, in February 2013, an investigation was opened and those involved were offered a measly 6 month ban by ASADA, which they refused. 2 months later, investigations resumed and not until this month, August 2014 (3 years since the actual event), have we heard any other repercussions.  

So what is ASADA’s punishment for those that admit to taking a prohibited substance??? They have been offered an up to 12 month ban that is BACKDATED to 21^st November 2013. This means, at worst, the players will miss a handful of games remaining this season and be ready for pre-season training/matches again in November!!!

Let’s compare this to the sport of cycling… If a rider is implicated in a doping case, they are generally suspended immediately from their team and cannot participate in any races. The Cronulla Sharks have continued to play the entire time that the investigation has been going on.

If a cyclist is convicted of a doping crime, then they will usually be forbidden from racing for a period of 2 years. Even if a professional cyclist is not where they say they will be in mandatory athlete whereabouts reporting and miss 3 tests, they will receive a 2 year suspension. The Cronulla Sharks were offered 6 month bans by ASADA and they refused!!!

ASADA claims that ‘It is the organisation with prime responsibility for implementation of the World Anti-Doping Code (the Code) in Australia.’ This being, ‘…the aim of bringing consistency to anti-doping policies and regulations within sport organizations and governments right across the world.’

 

Cycling is always painted in such a bad light when it comes to doping, however, I can’t help but feel that there is some inconsistencies between professional cycling and other sports. Many of the Cronulla Sharks players have voiced that they are upset about missing this season’s finals but in reality, they should be counting their lucky stars because comparatively, they may have gotten off pretty lightly.

Mañana, Mañana

My Spanish team mate's have told me that there is a bit of a motto in spain... 'Mañana, Mañana'. Which means 'Tomorrow, tomorrow', or simply put... 'Later...' It reflects the relaxed attitude and lifestyle here in Spain and I have become quite accustomed to it.

 

In town, nothing seems to happen until around 9am when businesses begin to open and people emerge. Then, at 1pm, businesses shut their doors for siesta and people head back home to rest and have lunch with their family. At 5pm, doors re-open and it is business as usual until around 9-10pm.

 

 

Personally, I use siesta for exactly that. A quick power-nap after a long training session. Everything else has shut down so it's not like I am going to miss out on anything. And if I do want to head out to do something, its like walking onto the set of 28 Days Later. When I first arrived, I took a walk around town and the only people I saw were asleep in their cars!

 

One of the downsides of a 4hr gap in the middle of the day, however, is that it pushes everything else after it back as well. Dinner time is very late at around 9pm with a lot of restaurants not even opening their doors until then. If you eat lunch at a 'normal' time of around midday, then by the time restaurants open, you are starving!

What surprised me most of all, is that families would be out and about until almost midnight. You can here kids running around and playing into the late hours of the night when its well past my bedtime, never mind someone that has school in the morning!

 

In 2 days time, I head back to Australia to prepare for the races in Asia at the end of the season. I have one goal... to continue living on relaxed Spanish time. Not in that I am going to  stay awake when it is daytime in Europe but in that I am going to try to continue with the late starts, siesta and late finish to the day. However, I have a few things that are not going to work in my favour...

 

Firstly, it is still the tail end of Winter back home in Australia so the sun comes up at around 6am and sets at 5:30pm. This is okay for my planned late start to the day but doesn't help when it is cold and dark by 5:30pm and all you want to do is get home. Although its a balmy 24-25°C during the day, as soon as the sun goes down, so does the thermometer. It just doesn't have the same atmosphere as here in Spain where the sun goes down at around 9:30pm and it is still 30-odd degrees at 6pm!

 

Another obstacle is the fact that everyone else gets up so early. If I want to go for a ride with friends, then I need to be out of the door at 5:30am. This means putting on layers of clothing and charging the lights up because it is still dark. I'm not keen to do either of these things.

 

Lastly, and most likely my biggest hindrance to keeping Spanish time is the fact that my wife cannot do it. She starts work early so leaves the house at around 6am and if she is not in bed by 8pm, she has probably fallen asleep somewhere. I can't help but think that she would be a little unimpressed if I slept in while she was preparing for the day and then made her go to bed alone while I stay up late.

 

It's gonna be tough, but I will give it my best!

 

 

 

What if?..

In this year's Tour de France, Jack Bauer came painfully close to winning Stage 15. He had spent all day off the front of the race only to be caught within a few meters of the finish line. 

We were watching the stage while at training camp and I don't think there was a single person that was not glued to the TV, willing him to the line. 

After the stage, his disappointment was clear as he was left to ponder what could have been. People around the world felt for him, I mean, how could you not? He was so devastatingly close. Nobody wanted to be in his shoes. Including me. 

Stage 4 of the Tour of Denmark was relatively short with a 98km road race followed by a time trial in the afternoon. As we were preparing for the start, the wind began to pick up and the storm clouds were rolling in. The course did a slight loop on itself, which meant that at some point in the race there was going to be a tail wind, a cross wind and head wind. Not easy conditions to race in.

As soon as the gun went off, we set off at a relatively gentle pace. With the wind at our backs, the peloton assumed that any attempt at a breakaway would be crazy. Suicidal even. So I attacked. 

With the tail wind, I reached 71kph in my initial surge. I quickly made a gap on the bunch as they continued along at a more calm rate. Some doubts entered my mind as I also realised that my actions were potentially crazy. Keeping a charging peloton at bay alone into a headwind was a near impossible task. 

Thankfully, behind me, two other riders decided to jump and made their way across to me. We quickly gained an advantage of almost 4 minutes as the rain began to fall.

In the bunch, rain makes things a lot harder. Nervous riders, slippery corners and brakes that don't seem to do anything cause crashes and general mayhem. Fortunately for the three of us in the breakaway, this meant that we were able to sustain our advantage. 

I never thought that the break would stay away. I was totally expecting to be swept up well before the finish, however, with 30km to go, we still had an advantage of almost 2mins. We pushed on with everything we had in hope of possibly denying the bunch. 

The effort took it's toll on one rider and his legs gave up. This left two of us at the front and to be honest, my legs were close to giving up as well. 

The race finished with 3 laps of a 3km circuit and as we entered the loop we still had a gap of around 30 seconds. With the possibility that we could survive, I suddenly found some extra power. 

With 2 laps to go, I had no idea how close they were. The lead car was still behind us but thanks to the rain, I could barely see out of my sunglasses. As we went past my Team Director he was screaming at me to go so I knew we had a chance. 

With one lap to go, my legs were getting tired and my heart rate was the highest it had been all day. I still had no idea how close the peloton was and as we rounded the last corner into the slightly uphill finishing straight, I gave everything I had. 

The signs indicating the distance remaining seemed to take forever. 300m... 250m... 200m... Then the inevitable...

100m before the finish line the bunch swallowed us up and I crossed the line in 16th position. 

  

At first, I thought to myself, 'oh well, I gave it my best'. 10 mins later, the 'what if' began to set it. What if I went a little harder in the windy section? What if I wasn't so hesitant on the slippery corners? What if?...

Despite the end result, I still stood on the podium with the most aggressive rider award but I will probably dwell on what could have been for a while.

Spettacolo

Bike races are hard. But there is one country in particular that like to make their races especially difficult. Every race that I have done or seen in Italy has been harder than any others. 

Each year the Giro d'talia seems to out-do itself with ridiculously long stages, ridiculous amounts of climbing and ridiculously steep roads on all kinds of surfaces. 

My first Italian race this year was GP Nobili. It was 195km long with the first 100km on dead flat roads followed by three trips up a 5km long climb. The flat start gives the sprinters a false hope of being able to make it to the finish before being crushed when the roads go upwards. 

The hills at the end mean that the non-climber's only chance is to get into the early break away. As a result, the race starts with an relentless flurry of surges and attacks. This year, we covered the first 100km in under 2hrs! This also allows the climbers to sit back and bide their time as they wait to ride away on the climbs. 

My second race in Italy was the Coppi E Bartali. It was a 4 day stage race that had 3 road races, a 4 man team time trial and finished with an individual time trial. 

It began with a double stage day that had a road race in the morning and a team time trial in the afternoon. The road race took in 2 climbs before a fast descent into town. I finished a bit down on the winner in grupetto. 

In the afternoon, the TTT was done in pouring rain and we crossed the line holding onto our helmet visors in our teeth so we could see. 

The 3rd stage was, well, there is only one way to put it: ridiculous. 165km with 5 laps of loop that contained a 10km long climb. For most of the peloton, it was a day of survival. Just get up the 3500m of climbing without being outside of time limit. I managed to get through it... Just.  

Stage 4 was, thankfully, a proper flat day. One for the sprinters. I spent most of the day in the early break away before being reeled in for the bunch sprint. My already tired legs did not appreciate it one bit. 

 

By this point, the overall positions had been pretty much decided and a time trial to finish the race off would not change much. But that does not stop the Italians from making it as hard as possible. The final time trial was 10km long that finished up a climb that reached gradients of 25% in dirt roads. Again, ridiculous. It was the slowest time trial I have ever done. I crept around and finished down near the bottom of the page. 

My last two races in Italy took place last weekend. It was two 200km, 1-day races with the GP Industria & Artigianto on Saturday. 

Like my first Italian race, it began with around 100km of flat roads that we covered at warp speed. I pushed to get into the break away as I knew what was to come in the 2nd half of the race but I was never able to get clear.

The final half if the race, in typical Italian fashion, contained four laps of a circuit containing a steep climb with a 1km section of around 18-20%. This was followed by a high speed descent with hair pin turns in pouring rain. At the end of the day, only 57 out of 160 starters managed to finish the race. That's 35% of the field that could complete the race. Or 65% that could not!

Sunday saw the 2nd 200km race,the Giro della Tuscana. On paper, it also had a couple of climbs in the middle of the race with the first one lasting for 20km at a relatively gentle slope. The 2nd climb however, was not as forgiving. It was 10km long with some serious pinches. It took a large chunk of the field out of the race with only 81 riders crossing the final line!

So why does Italy make their races so crazy??? Well, my team mates inform me that it is for the 'spettacolo'. They only care about making a scene. Making the race so hard that the eventual winner has to fight and battle their way through like a gladiator. Every race is a race that people will be talking about afterwards for years!

So I'm not a fan of Italian races. I'm no climber and have to do what I can for my team mates in the early, flat stages of the race. I won't be the guy that provides the 'spettacolo' but I will still be talking about the race for a while afterwards. Albeit for a very different reason. 

The real Hunger Games

These last couple of weeks, my wife has been over visiting in Europe. During her time, she wanted to travel and check out some more 'culture' in countries such as Istanbul, Morocco and Portugal. So I jumped online and and booked a couple of tickets to Casablanca in Morocco. I was pleasantly surprised to find that they were quite cheap and I didn't think anything of it at the time...

We arrived in Casablanca two days ago and discovered that it is Ramadan. This is a period of the Islamic calendar when Muslims worldwide observe a month of fasting. During the hours between sunrise and sunset, Muslims do not eat, drink (not even water), smoke or engage in sexual relations.  In some interpretations, other behaviours that can be perceived as sinful are also given up. This includes swearing, arguing and even procrastination!

As a result of Ramadan, almost all cafés, restaurants and shops are closed all morning and only open in the afternoon. The streets feel deserted. Our hotel just happens to be in the older, more traditional area of the city so there are no supermarkets and shops. This has made getting food to eat extremely difficult. 

On our first day here, we struggled. Walking around in the blazing sun just made us thirsty and when we did find a small stall, we didn't want to offend anyone by eating and drinking in the open so we would wait until we found a more discrete location. After sunset, we found the closest restaurant and ate a three course meal! 

Today, we decided to see if we could fast ourselves and go without food. If the Muslim people can do it for a month, surely we could do it for a day. And even if I couldn't do it, it's okay because people with diabetes are exempt from Ramadan. I have a get out of jail free card. 

We had a plan... Firstly, sleep in for as long as possible to give us a good head start on the day light hours. Secondly, we allowed ourselves to drink water. There is no way I could walk around in the sun and not hydrate! Last of all, we had to keep ourselves occupied so that we wouldn't be thinking about food.

We decided to walk to the beach which was around 10km from our hotel. At first, this was a great idea but as we got closer, there were more shops for tourists and more fast food chains like McDonalds selling Ramadan children's meals.

I'd be lying if I said I didn't want a cheeseburger. But when I thought about it, I didn't want one because I was hungry. I wanted one because it was there and I knew I would like the taste. This happened a number of times as we passed cafés and restaurants at beach resorts. It made me realise just how much we eat purely because it is available to us and not because we actually need it. 

I went most of the day without any problems. At around 4:30pm, 19hrs since we ate dinner, I got hungry. I was starting to feel a little light headed if I stood up too quickly so bought a couple of pastries from a shop. By the time we got out? The hunger was gone so we soldiered on and took the pastries back to the hotel. At 6:30pm, 21hrs since dinner, I got very hungry and caved. The pastries were right there in front of me, just asking for it. 

On reflection, I realise that I eat a lot of pointless stuff out of boredom rather than necessity. Tomorrow we will have another go at Ramadan. Maybe a pre-sunrise meal will get us through the day instead of only eating once every 24hrs. Today we saw a lot of other tourists eating and realise that we can too, but 'When in Rome', as they say.

Filthy back packers

It takes a special person to be a back packer... Travelling around the world with the absolute bare minimum of belongings and even less money. Being alone in countries where they don't speak the language and trying to ask for directions. Sharing a dorm room with a dozen other people and then having to share 1 bathroom with 20 more. Having to wash the 3 sets of clothes they have in said bathroom with communal soap and struggling to get them dry. 

I have a strange sense of envy when I see them but it is mixed with feelings of pity and compassion. Sure, they may look like a filthy back packer but I bet they have 101 brilliant stories they could share with you. If only they looked more approachable and less, well, homeless. 

Today, I was the filthy back packer... 

My friend is visiting from Australia at the moment and we decided (well I told him) to do a hike up Montserrat. In the past, I have a history of turning adventures like this into what others classify as an 'ordeal' through lack of planning and preparation so he was somewhat hesitant and even sent a 'goodbye' message to his wife before we left.

Despite my preference to do things on a wing and a prayer, I decided in order to redeem myself, that I should be a bit more ready. I made sandwiches and packed a lunch. I even put a couple of cold beers in so that we could enjoy them at the top amidst the wonderful views. I checked the weather (for where I was at the time and not Montserrat) and it said cloudy. The previous days had been spectacular so I was sure it would be ideal. 

When we began the walk, it was hot. Crazy hot. I was dreading the next 4km of hiking. After about 1.5km, I felt a few rain drops on my face and pointed out that some ominous clouds were moving in. My friend disagreed and we continued on. 

After 2km, it started to rain. It was the kind of rain that feels like it could turn to hail at any moment. Huge, fat droplets that are freezing cold. I suggested that we turn back but having come this far, we were determined to get to the top. 

The trail turned into a river of brown flowing water and we were shivering like drowned rats but we pressed on through the mud and slippery rocks. As we neared the top, the sun seemed to come out again and we finished the walk in relative comfort. Then the rain drops did turn to hail. 

 



 

Just as we reached the top, the skies opened up and dumped down hail, rain, thunder and lightning for what seemed an eternity. We were freezing and had nothing but t-shirts and shorts on so we did what any filthy back packer would do. We went into a room of vending machines and tried to get warm by the heat from the refrigerator motors. My friend even resorted to hugging the coke machine. 

Water flooded down the mountain so the trails were not an option for our return to the car on the other side of the mountain. Our preferred option was to take the cable car down the mountain and then walk the 6km road back up to the car. Then the power went out. 

This meant that now our only other option was to catch the train down the other side of the mountain and walk the 9km back up to the car. We had no choice. 

We made a run for the train along with everyone else as soon as the rain stopped. As we got close to the bottom of the mountain, as if karma wanted to kick us in the groin, the heavy rain started again and we began our walk back to the car even more wet and cold than before. 

Soaked to the bone, shivering cold and walking along a main road, we decided to try to hitch hike our way back. One car stopped and after awkwardly conveying our predicament, the driver told us we couldn't fit because of the passenger and 4 dogs he had in the car with him. I think he just didn't want to pick up a couple of filthy hitch hikers. 

The rain finally stopped and we made it to the car. I have never been more relieved to feel the hot air coming out of the air vents. Strangely, I still have the reputation of having adventures turn into ordeals. 

Tour de Korea

A couple of months ago, after a long stint of races, I became a bit fatigued and my race schedule had to change. I was able to take some rest back home in Australia before the Team's next big races at the Tour de Beauce in Canada and the Tour de Korea. I was scheduled for the 'easier' race, the Tour de Korea. This would be my second attempt at the race after 2011 where I crashed out on stage 3.

 

 

To be honest, we were all under the impression that Korea would be easier. Even though it only lasts for half as many days, the Tour de Beauce is know for being very lumpy and usually has a strong field of teams in the race. Korea was expected to have a few bunch sprint finishes so the team sent Andrea along, one of the team's sprinters.

 

 

Stage 1 in Korea started out in the usual fashion... crazy attacks, big open roads and no breakaways allowed to form. After around 100km, the race somehow split in half. Three of us were in the front half and continued to race on with Andrea sprinting to 10th, but strangely, the other half of the race seemed to have no interest in racing and finished a long way back. We though that this was a sign of things to come.

 

We were wrong.

 

From the race hotel, or pretty much anywhere you stand, every direction you looked seemed to have mountains in the back drop. In fact, the internet tells me that over 70% of South Korea's terrain is mountains! Not just small bumps either, but proper mountains. Check out this list of mountain peaks in Korea... You would think that this would slow the race down, especially when the stages are around 200km long, but it seemed to do the opposite. It seemed to inspire the breakaways.

 

 

Every stage started in a frenzy of attacks. The first 50-80km was done at warp speed as riders attacked and chased each other down at the front. I would try to get in the break, keen to do well but also wary of how long and difficult the stages are. After trying for the first 50km, it seemed that as soon as I sat in to rest, a small break would just roll off the front.

 

 

On a hilly stage of 200km and a chasing peloton of 110+ riders, you would think that it is extremely unlikely that the break would stay away until the end. Despite this, the break somehow managed to stay away and finish ahead of the peloton, sometimes by only a few seconds. It was mind-boggling that a group of 5 guys could out-run a peloton charging at full steam. This was frustrating as it was taking away our opportunities for our sprinter to do his thing.

 

 

Due to a couple of difficult mountain stages and breakaways stealing the win, the final stage became our last opportunity to get Andrea into the sprint. It was a relatively short and flat stage of just over 80km which meant that although we could finish fast and fresh, so could everybody else! The final km's were hectic but Andrea managed to round out the tour with another top 10 finish.

 

So that was the end to the 'easier', Tour de Korea. I don't think that any of us have ever been more happy to see the end of a race. With 1310km in 8 days at an average speed of 40kph and 14000m of climbing, the Tour de Korea is definitely not the 'easy' option.

 

 

 

Time poor

When I was working full time and trying to train as much as I could, I never really took a step back to take an overall look at my lifestyle. My last 4 weeks at home have been a real eye opener to the hectic and time-poor lifestyle that I used to live and that so many people still do. 

Now that I have the luxury of having a little more time, I can take advantage of all the small things that I never used to be able to do such as starting my ride after the sun has come up. However, watching my wife go about her daily routine has given me a new appreciation for the fact that I am able to. 

My wife works full time so spends around 9hrs per day at her work place. This just happens to be a 30-45min drive away depending on traffic. Sometimes she has a meeting after work or catches up with friends for a coffee so doesn't get home until late. Then she has to do all the usual things like cook dinner, laundry etc etc etc. 

This all makes for a pretty jam packed day so if she wants to go for a run or exercise, she has to do it before she leaves for work. This means that my wife wakes up a 4am to go for a quick run before racing around to organise breakfast and prepare for the day ahead. 

Like most people, my wife cannot leave work where it belongs and is constantly bringing home more jobs and tasks to take up what little time she has. When I think about it, I can't believe that I used to do the same thing. 

Because time is such a precious commodity, even the simplest of things can become a nightmare. How do you fit in receiving a delivery that only comes between 9am-5pm? How do you get to the post office to send something between those same hours? How do you find time to go the the department of transport between 9am-4pm just to change your address? How do you even find time to do the groceries?

Take a step back and take a look at your lifestyle... The way we live is ridiculous!

Tour d'Azerbaidjan

At the start of the Month, I headed to Azerbaijan for a race before returning to Australia for a short break. When I told people I was going to Azerbaijan, pretty much everyone had never heard of it or knew where it was. To be honest, I had to look it up too. Turns out, Azerbaijan is in the Middle East, surrounded by Iran, Georgia, Armenia and Russia. The race was based out of the capital city, Baku in the East, on the shores of the Caspian Sea.

 

 

When I looked at the stages for the Tour, I assumed that the race was going to be very similar to other races that I had done in Asia... big open highways, large peloton and lots of crazy breakaway attempts. I was keen to be on the attack early in the race and see what happens.

 

 

Stage 1 started on the highways heading out of Baku. We had a massive tailwind so the race started very fast. I managed to get off the front of the bunch with a couple of others, holding a gap of only a couple of hundred meters before being reeled in. I rolled back through the peloton to catch my breath, just before we turned a corner. Then the wind came.

 



We turned into 70kph crosswinds that tore the peloton into pieces. Everyone was riding at a 30 degree angle to the right as we leaned into the wind to stay upright. If you looked at the race, it seemed as though we were riding sideways across a steep hill. We were basically riding through a sand storm! I have never ridden in such strong winds before. Back home, if it is that windy it means that there is a cyclone coming and you probably lock yourself inside and secure any loose objects! Eventually, I found myself in grupetto and we had to ride 130km into the crazy winds to finish the stage. It was a long, tough day in the office.

That night after the stage, I discovered something. It turns out that Azerbaijan is one of the windiest countries on the planet with strong winds for more than 250 days of the year. On top of that, the city name of 'Baku' is actually derived form the old Persian name, Bād-kube, meaning "Wind-pounded city" and the nickname for Baku is the 'City of Winds'! As expected then, the weather prediction for Stage 2 was much the same.

 

Stage 2 began in a much more calmly manner, with a small break going off the front and the peloton cruising along at 30kph. I was in need of a nature break but wary of the wind, I was somewhat reluctant to pull over. For about 10km, I ummed and ahhed over whether I should pull over to stop before finally deciding that I couldn't hold it anymore and the bunch was going slow enough for it to not be a problem. I rolled to the back of the race and the moment I unclipped my shoe, someone attacked at the front of the race.

 

At the exact moment I decided to pull over, the race was on. The wind split the field into pieces again and for the second day in a row, I was stuck in grupetto, chasing hard for 150km to finish the stage. It was an even longer and tougher day than Stage 1.

 

For the next two stages, the leading team took control of the race and everything seemed a bit more organized. I stayed near the front of the race the entire time as I did not want to get caught out by the wind again and recovered the best I could from the first 2 days' efforts.

 

The final stage was another long day with 200km of racing, finishing with 5 circuits in Baku city. Each circuit contained a climb through the city on narrow cobblestone streets and the field would almost be single file as it went through. The commisaires were quick to pull dropped riders out of the race due to the traffic so it was important to hang on to the front group for as long as possible. Fortunately, I managed to stay with them until the 4th trip up the climb and was relieved to finish the Tour.

 

 

 

With all of the carnage from the wind, at the end of the race, only 91 riders out of 150 starters managed to finish the race! I now know why the Tour d'Azerbaidjan has a reputation for being a difficult race... its like riding through a cyclone in the middle of a desert!

Why a metre does NOT matter...

Before I start, let me just say that this is only my opinion. It’s probably not right but everyone is entitled to an opinion. Just like you…

So Queensland has just implemented a law that requires cars to give at least 1m of space when overtaking a cyclist. Despite this, I’m still getting bombarded with stories on Facebook of cyclists being hit by cars and equally bombarded by the rage of drivers in the comments section. Everyone (well, cyclists mainly) are celebrating the new law but I’m willing to bet money that it has no affect at all. Why???? Because implementing a law that requires a car to give cyclists 1m of space is like making a law that requires you to give up your seat on the bus to heavily pregnant women or the elderly. If you are not already doing it, then there is probably something fundamentally wrong with you as a human being.

 
Think about it. 1m is not much room. If I get within 1m of another car when I’m trying to park, I start to panic and I will probably back up. If you are driving within 1m of another moving object that you cannot predict the movement of, then you really should question your driving abilities. Actually, you really should question your basic manners and scruples because giving 1m is a simple courtesy given out of the respect for another human being. If you ever think ‘how can I possibly give 1m of room’, (which I have seen in many of the comments from irate drivers), then you are a straight out (insert rude word here).

In a few days, I will be heading back to Brisbane for a couple of weeks of no racing and I’m not looking forward to riding on QLD roads again. Since leaving in January, I have had a total of 1 car beep their horn at me and about 3 cars that have passed close enough to me for me to think, ‘hmmmm, that was a bit close’.

So why are the attitudes of drivers so different here in Spain?  Well, for starters, it seems like absolutely no one in Spain is in a hurry to get anywhere. Cars will sit behind you for as long as it takes before they pass safely and even give you a wave as they go by. In fact, they are so patient that it can actually be annoying to me as a cyclist. If a car is behind me for an extended period of time, I start to panic and think that they are just going to be getting more and more angry so I should make room for them to pass. But they never do. At traffic lights, cars will sit in line without making a noise if the light turns green and no one notices. Then they will take off at a snail’s pace.

It’s as if the default state of mind here in Spain is relaxed and calm. Everyone just wants to chill out with family and friends and see that others get to do the same. I mean, heck, everything closes for 4hrs a day so that people can eat with the family and have a nap! The traffic lights favor the pedestrian crossings and if you actually are in a hurry, then you take the freeways. As a result, if you are driving on small back roads, there is an unwritten agreement that the right of way goes to the cyclist because if you want to go fast, take a better road!

Back home in Brisbane seems like the exact opposite. The default state of mind seems to be stressed and rushed. Everyone is in a hurry to get somewhere, looking for any shortcut possible to get there quicker and they assume that everyone else is the same. So if a bike is on the road, there is the impression that they are just slowing everyone down and should get out of the way. Shouldn’t we revel in the fact that someone is out enjoying life instead of accusing them of wasting your precious time?

As a cyclist, I can appreciate that people are trying to get from A to B and I do my best to not impede them. I stick the left, I indicate and I wave cars through when I can. It’s simple civility. Giving a cyclist 1m meter of room isn’t a matter of law. It’s a matter of the frame of mind of drivers. Don’t give a metre because it’s a rule. Give a metre because it’s courteous and common decency.