Awkwardness

The bike's running more smoothly than ever, and yet it feels wrong. Awkward. The low front end screams "aerodynamics" - tuck in and hide from the wind - and yet I am propped up, a rucksack bulging off my spine, loose trousers rolled up over my calves. It isn't how this bike was meant to be ridden, but this is the ride to get to the event where I can ride it as it was meant to be ridden.

It's like walking to a festival, or navigating a foreign airport; that frisson of excitement tempered by the slightly uncomfortable awkwardness of it all.

My trainers are in fluttering plastic bags strapped to the side of my rucksack, obstructing my view over my shoulder and making me feel even more vulnerable as I roll with calm determination down the A-road.

It is a sad fact that if I lived somewhere with more predictable weather, I wouldn't need to take half so much kit, but I am racing here because this is the country where I live, and there is no race better than the one you can get to.

That being said, it isn't easy. Thanks to how early the start is, and it being on a Sunday, and since none of my clubmates are racing as well, I needed to catch a train down to Dumfries on Saturday, to stay in a B&B a few miles from the start line, to get up on a sleety, gusty morning and roll across to line up with a few dozen gents and ladies who have travelled from as far afield as Fife for just over an hour of pace and stress with only the most fleeting chance of glory.

There is undoubtedly a better compromise that this unstable, tumourous configuration of rider, bike and bag, but I would not dare (even if it were possible) to desecrate my race bike by attaching anything to its frame or seat post.

A few years ago, I would never have forseen this situation, the apotheosis of a "first-world problem." If a bicycle is primarily for transportation, then surely I should abandon my shallow aesthetics and attach a seatpost rack. With a carbon pin and lightweight wheels comes responsibility, however. To gouge the lacquer; to allow a pannier to swing into the wheel - could be catastrophic.

It is possible that I have found my "n+1" - a steel-framed beauty that can take the loads of a beast of burden, yet still be ridden hard hard for those races where the racing is more critical than the winning (which should, of course, be all races).

It is difficult but to feel that bicycle racing is a technological arms race, and the "zing" that one gets from a properly race-optimized frame is as astonishing as it is welcome. Now that I have access to it, I do not wish to lose it, but can I bring an element of it into something more practical?

Is there one bike that can do it all? I will search, but I also know this: The feeling of release can only come after being pent-up. Things can only feel truly right after you have seen wrong. The most most amazing bike in the world will feel like a tool if it is used as one. So, in a strange way, I can find happiness in my awkwardness.

After winter, comes the spring.