So, for example, as I was pulling an office staple out of my front tyre last night, I thought about whether my bike had been sabotaged - often my default suspicion - by biking gods or just that bloke who blocks me in with his wheelie bin.
Hmmmm, maybe time will tell.
Superstition afflicts many people and sports people are very susceptible. Pro riders never pass salt between one another for example. I remember hearing about a football player who, while driving to matches, had to press his thumbs on the steering wheel of his car between every lamppost on his journey 11 times. That's insanity that. It might have been Carlton Palmer.
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| That's fate that |
I know people who wont say the word 'puncture' for fear of irking 'the gods' into delivering a spree of flattening experiences, presumably as punishment for uttering the arbitrary name given to an pneumatic tube which has lost its air by a non-standard method.
But why doesn't it work the other way around? Why don't cyclists greet each other with enthusiastic cries of 'limitless power', 'effortless efficiency' and 'explosive climbing'. Surely if the Gods were at work they would be powerless to resist your utterance of the mystical incantation: maintain 90rpm up this hill in this gear.
Might give it a whirl on the way home.
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