Cycling and farting

I am afraid our eyes are bigger than our bellies…

This morning when you think of riding your bike and imagine the wind, think of all this swallowed air, see the legions of two-wheeled people around you and smile knowing that most people will, at some point in their ride, fart a little.

Almost propelling themselves forward.

…and that we have more curiosity than capacity…

The untapped energy, the sheer odour of it, how grand of an invisible cloud hangs above the cyclists of the world!

Imagine for a moment the Tour de France peloton emitting greenhouse gas from the isotone and a candystore-worth of sports nutrition floating up into the Alps, and when the commentator marvels at the sheer intensity of a breakaway rider, imagine the flatulence released at each pedal stroke up the hill. Pfft, pfft-ing to victory.

Or a mountain biker using their version of nitrous oxide to power themselves into a huge jump. Imagine the fire hazard at indoor cycling events.

And then, imagine everyone in the world, much like one may imagine a boardroom naked when prepping an important presentation, riding along merrily to the beat of their own posterior drummer.  

…for we grasp at all, but catch nothing but wind.

Ah but what wind! And what great comedy to think of all this flatulence on the road this morning. I’m already dressed in my lycra shorts, already wearing my helmet, digesting this morning’s coffee and beans and yes, I think I feel that smelly little helper emerging down below. The wind is rising. We must try to live.