FIVE THINGS I HATE ABOUT CYCLING! As a self-confessed cycling nut, I’m invariably positive about all things on two wheels. However, that doesn’t mean I offer my unconditional allegiance to the pursuit of life in the saddle. Sometimes, it can be indescribably grim on the bike. At such moments, when my facial expression resembles the strained visage of an early-twentieth century, ‘convict of the road’ (smeared in grime, emaciated and with a permanent, needy look of startled agony) I have to remind myself that I’d still rather be pedalling through life than fighting for breath wedged upright inside a packed train carriage, or waiting in a blizzard, for a bus, which never arrives. So, in the time-honoured fashion of lazy journalism everywhere (and especially online cycle-writing) which says you can easily turn a random list into a piece of copy, here’s my top five bugbears about two-wheeled living. HEADWINDS Give me a rainy day every time. There’s not...

--> “Sommet du Mont Ventoux 1912m” I'm one of those cyclists fortunate enough to have a photo of myself with a large metal pole 'growing' directly out of the top of my head. I say this is lucky because the signpost in question is the summit marker for Mont Ventoux in Provence. It means I have had the privilege of climbing this - I hesitate to use the phrase - 'iconic' mountain, but I will. The arguably over-used adjective actually fits the bill in this case. The Giant of Provence is one of those legendary Tour de France locations worthy of mention in the same trembling breath as, 'Alpe d'Huez, the Tourmalet, the Galibier, the Aubisque and the Izoard' - to name just some of the most celebrated and feared. It's a brute to climb, "a God of evil" according to cycling fan and French philosopher, Roland Barthes. And it’s making its sixteenth appearance in the 2016 Grand Boucle. Armstrong and Pantani famously ...

There is no war on the roads between cyclists and drivers. After all, many bike riders are also motorists and vice versa. However there is an abundance of atrocious drivers and a surfeit of seriously bad cyclists. The interface between these two urban tribes (if they can be called that) and any interaction involving just one or other of them, is all too often characterised by large quantities of two things; “sound and fury” - almost always signifying nothing. No all-out war then, but plenty of skirmishes. As a cyclist it’s hard to know how to deal with being the object of a driver’s irrational tantrums. Road rage has no etiquette but maybe it should.     Remaining calm is always a good Zen-like state to aim for but it’s all too often, easier said than done. If you’ve just come close to being hit by several tons of rapidly-moving metal, you’re likely to be in an extreme panic from the outset. This clouds judgement and makes it much more...