PILOK

It’s a special day for anyone interested in cycling as a sport; later on this afternoon Mark Cavendish will attempt to make history in Paris by winning the final stage of this year’s Tour de France and beating the record for the most stage wins.  He currently shares the record - 34 - with the great Eddy Merckx.

Earlier this morning, Anniemay and I get into the spirit of things by riding our own races.  She heads for Paris and the Champs Élysées before the pros get there, while I set out on the Tour de South East Milton Keynes; from home to MK via the Bedfordshire countryside and back.  It’s around 20 miles.

It’s an early start because of the heat and thankfully the roads I take are relatively car-free.  Anniemay has no such problem.

There are, though, lots of MAMILs (middle-age men in lycra).  I see a couple of chain-gangs of at least 20 riders in each as well as plenty of solo riders.  Some acknowledge me with a nod or a brief raising of the hand, but most don’t.  I’m not sure if it’s the bike - a weird looking electric thing - or me - equally weird looking old man in my best old-school racing jersey and black shorts.  

But I don’t care.  "Ça plane pour moi " as the Belgian philosopher Plastic Bertrand* famously wrote.  

I’m a PILOK and proud**.  Pensioner in Lycra - OK?



* For those unfamiliar with the writings of the great man, the phrase roughly translates as "that (or it) works for me".


** Strictly speaking I should also call Anniemay a PILOK.  But not to her face.