Life Is A Cycle – A true story of resilience, cycling adventures and solo travel. By Sinead Kennedy – available online sineadekennedy.com
By Sinead Kennedy
The best thing about life is that it's ever-changing and evolving. The only certainty we have is uncertainty, much the same as when I am riding my bike. There have been days when I conquered tough climbs with a smile on my face. Other times, I have had to be dragged home, sheltered by the group. Once, I even had the pleasure of finishing my ride in the back of an ambulance.
Yet, no matter what each cycle brought, I kept going. Just like all the other weekend warriors out there. The ones like me, who cycle for pleasure. We won’t ever break records but in our heads, we are legends. Strava thinks so too!
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Thirteen years have passed since I joined Orwell Wheelers. I never imagined back then that cycling would become such a huge part of my life and I would end up writing a book about my amazing cycling adventures.
I didn’t join for fitness, I was already in good health. For me it was bigger than that. I joined the club to meet people after returning to Ireland from living abroad. I didn’t “know” Ireland either, geographically, anywhere outside of Dublin airport was a blur.
Cycling with my club soon became the highlight of my week. Eagerly, every Saturday, I jumped out of bed and met the gang. While I started out as a novice it wasn’t long before my routes became longer and at times outrageous. I have never been one to shy from a challenge, I entered sportives all over the country and soon became familiar with every climb Ireland had to offer. I still can’t decide which one was the hardest.
Glengesh in Donegal was hard, but the weather was lovely, so it was “easier.” Mamore gap, also in Donegal, was tough but as the visibility was so poor due to rain and fog the top took me by surprise as I thought I had a lot further to go. Ballaghbeama Gap in Kerry was leg breaking but thanks to a huge cassette on my back wheel I was able to overtake some men who’s knees caps looked like they were ready to explode.
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While each climb might have had character breaking elements, I got up them all. I’m nothing special I might add. I’m just me. I’m going to be 50 years old soon and am vertically challenged. But what I lack in stature and youth, I make up for with determination, stubbornness and a healthy dose of crazy.
My club was exceptional for meeting people who like me wanted to cycle, challenge themselves and have weekends away. In 2014, we went to France to cycle the notorious “La Marmotte.” I had never even heard of it, all I saw in the brochure was “France, July, good weather!” I was sold.
When I arrived I was shocked by the size of the mountains and worst of all, I was embarrassed by my kit. Compared to the other 8,000 entrants I looked like I was dressed out of bargain basement bin. My sunglasses had cost €4.99 in the special aisle on Thursday.
The Marmotte tried to break me. I cried on the Alp d’Huez as I was so tired and hungry. I hung on for dear life on the downhills as I was petrified to let go of the brakes and to top it off, I nearly got sick from the smell in a public toilet I had to use.
While I struggled, I never gave up. I had gone there to complete the route and that’s exactly what I did. I might have been almost last but that didn’t matter. I got my medal the same as the riders who flew around the course.
After that trip, I set up a cycling and yoga holiday in Spain. One for “real” people like me. Those who like to ride but need help with technical skills. Most importantly, it was for people who were willing to have chats and fun while pushing themselves out of their comfort zone. The elites can go somewhere else.
As if all that wasn’t enough, I have taken my love of cycling on all my holidays. I have cycled along the Bay of Pigs in Cuba on a rickety bike in glorious sunshine. While in Myanmar (Burma) I cycled around a lake to a Pagoda that was covered in gold. More recently, in Laos I cycled from lagoon to lagoon and had a swim in each one.
Cycling has made me enjoy the journey rather than trying to reach the destination at breakneck speed. I don’t care how far I go or even where. I just know that when I’m on my bike I feel “right.” Whilst I have cycled just about every major climb in Europe I have one iconic route left. This July, myself and my good friends are headed to the Pyrenees to cycle the mighty Tourmalet for my big birthday. Sure what else would I do!?
