Benji muses on his last two weeks of independent, dependent living.
From the Archives – Singletrack Issue 75 – 2012
Words Benji Haworth
Column: Sewing Seed.
Here’s some advice taken from a Singer sewing manual published in 1949:
“Prepare yourself mentally for sewing. Think about what you are going to do…. Never approach sewing with a sigh or lackadaisically. Good results are difficult when indifference predominates.”
“Never try to sew with a sink full of dirty dishes or beds unmade. When there are urgent housekeeping chores, do these first so your mind is free to enjoy your sewing. When you sew, make yourself as attractive as possible. Put on a clean dress. Keep a little bag full of French chalk near your sewing machine to dust your fingers at intervals. Have your hair in order, powder and lipstick put on. If you are constantly fearful that a visitor will drop in or your husband will come home, and you will not look neatly put together, you will not enjoy your sewing.”
I can’t say I’ve ever sewn for any extended period of time. I think the last thing I took a needle and thread to, was the slashed sidewall of an expensive tyre but I can see how one might apply this preparation theory to cycling. I can see how some people would prefer not to embark on their chosen pastime or sport until they have everything else squared away. You don’t want to be thinking about the washing up as you fling yourself past the point of no return on some sketchy-as-hell plummet.
The thing is, when mountain biking it’s often the case that I never find myself thinking about anything except the right-here-right-now moment that I’m in, regardless of the amount of stuff and strife going down in the real world. Surely one of the main attractions and addictions of mountain biking is that it can instantly obliterate all your worries. When the rubber hits the dirt there is nothing else going on anywhere. It’s replaced with this corner, this climb, this drop, this root, this rock, this mud, this wind, this… sheer now-ness. A now-ness that needs to be dealt with right, er, now.
There’s a strong argument that a lot of cyclists seem to lead impressively chaotic and troublesome lives so that when they get on a bike the worry-obliteration impact is all the greater, all the sweeter. Silence is all the more noticeable when it replaces white noise. And all the more desirable.
I never have trouble clearing my head when I go out riding. The gas bill is forgotten about even before the second cleat clicks into the pedal. There’s nothing that lurks at the back of my mind when I’m riding. I have responsibilities. I have duties. I have stuff that I haven’t done that needs to be done, that could be being done right now. I have a long-suffering wife who is well practised in the art of rolling her eyes. But I’m riding my bike now. That’s all that matters now.
Cycling is a selfish and narcissistic pastime. A main reason why us cyclists bang on about how environmentally friendly and goodie-two-shoes we are, is because deep down we know we’re self-absorbed, self-serving gits. No one really rides mountain bikes to save the planet. Mountain biking doesn’t do much damage to the world, but let’s not pretend that it’s healing it. You ride a mountain bike because it gives you, and only you, a buzz. Riding a bike is your ‘me time’. And I’d wager that you want to ride as much as possible, almost certainly more than you currently do.
I’m writing this column on a rainy Saturday in June. My pregnant wife is out in town with some friends having afternoon tea. As a mountain biker I would obviously normally be out riding today but the place where I was due to ride is under several feet of flash-flood water. So I thought I’d rearrange my weekend, choose to ride tomorrow, choose to do a bit of writing now while the mood is upon me.
The key words in that previous paragraph are ‘pregnant’ and ‘choose’. I’m due to be a father in about a fortnight. How did that happen? (Don’t answer that.) With parenthood comes a greatly reduced opportunity to choose what you do, and when you do it. Am I aware that my life is going to change immensely and irreversibly? Yes. Am I sticking my head in the sand a bit too? Absolutely.
Perhaps the main thing that I’ve been doing during this pregnancy is, somewhat unsurprisingly, riding my bike. I’ve made hay while the sun shines, and while the rain pisses down too. As well as just getting out locally at every and any opportunity, I’ve managed to tick some long-desired locations and events off my biking to-do list.
I’ve also been practising my sulking. The art of being a just-about-liveable-with, selfish, cycling prick. The naive idea being to make my wife aware of what I’ll be like to live with if I don’t ride regularly. Obviously I’ve paired this with reassurances that I’m prepared to man the fort alone to allow her to bugger off from it all on a similarly regular frequency. My wife sees through all of this but you can’t blame a mountain biker for trying.
Who knows what sort of experience the baby will be? It might be an easy-going, sleeptastic baby. It may be a constant nightmare. We’ve planned and predicted as much as we can, basically until the end of this year. It’ll help having family (retired family at that) being close by too, hopefully. But in a nutshell I expect that the number one factor in anything and everything we do from here on in will be: ‘what about the baby?’
Having a child means being on the hitherto unexperienced end of an entirely dependent relationship. Being married is about dependency but it’s crucially different. Being in a long-term relationship is co-dependency. It’s give and take. Each of us can do our own thing for a bit, be a bit selfish, be a bit of an arse. And the other one lives with it because we each know the favour will be lovingly returned at some point.
You can’t be selfish with your child. It owns you and everything you do. At the moment, in my pre-father status, this sounds like it sucks. In two weeks I won’t be able to choose when I ride. I won’t even be able to choose when I write. The rewards of parenting that other people blah on about are just concepts at the moment. They aren’t guarantees to me. The only certainty is that someone, some tiny person, will hold gurgling sway over my life.
And do you know, I actually cannot wait.
I’m looking forward to watching my wife become a mother. I imagine that will be extremely inspiring and rewarding. I suspect that like a lot of men I don’t really have many overt desires or expectations in having a baby. I’m up for the experience. And again, like a lot of men, I don’t know what to think about the first couple of years of my child’s life. From witnessing male friends’ and relations’ experiences it seems to be that the first couple of years are hard, not so rewarding, confusing work; but then once the kid is walking and talking, it makes a bit more sense. You find your role and ‘Dad’ starts to become real.
Somewhat predictably, I am genuinely already looking forward to our child’s first self-propelled, two-wheeler experience. And, further down the line, I’m not sure if I’ll feel pleased or pissed off as and when my kid inevitably becomes a better rider than me. But I can’t wait for it to happen.