The day draws nearer to becoming a father and I lie in bed thinking about the future, in that place between sleep and wake when the greatest ideas come and go, being allowed to disappear into the nether regions of the mind, smothered by the dribble soaked pillow?
One thought that does stay with me throughout each day however is what kind of dad will I be? Will I be a disciplinarian, a hippy, a nervous wreck or even discover a new serenity? The one thing I do know is that I will be hands on, determined to be a dad that my son or daughter will be proud of.
My time treading the boards is becoming a distant memory along with hopes of rekindling any worthwhile career in dance so I need to find other ways to have an identity, other ways to say this is me. How can I expect my child to be passionate about anything if I am not demonstrating what passion looks like.
My new ‘thing’ will involve something that has always been in my life, cycling. I have always loved building, riding and encouraging others to ride bikes and throughout my life, the ever present form of cycling has been off road but I was drawn to the dark side of roadies when helping to open a branch of Cycle Surgery in London. It was one of the lowest paid but happiest jobs I ever had and I wonder if one day I can afford to work in a similar environment again. Working there surrounded by top end bikes I knew that if I were to ever purchase a road bike it would have to at least be a full carbon, providing a good base to then upgrade as my needs grow.
After spending the majority of every working hour trawling through every website available for affordable steeds that offer what I want, I have opted for a Merida and am now ready to slip on the lycra and become ‘one of them’. Years of laughing at the lycra clad roadies I now drop low on the bars and discover the thrill of being able to keep up with the cars and cover distances with greater ease and speed than ever before. I am hooked!
My beautiful daughter Bessie is now here and lying in bed contemplating what I fancy as my next challenge, slightly hung over from a night of ‘baby head wetting’, I find myself drawn to the British Triathlon website, looking at upcoming events, weighing up the distances and wondering, could I? Before I know it I’ve clicked and signed up for my first triathlon. Shit!
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