To share a passion - that is what connects people

This year’s Coast to Coast appears to be the biggest yet – 200 hundred riders someone says.  It is not a race (not yet, at least) and so as we roll-out at a steady 30km/h it is a good time to pair up two-by-two for a catch-up with other riders who’ve become friends through cycling and triathlon.  I feel an instant rapport is formed with someone when the point in common is something that each party loves doing and is a shared enjoyment.  I meet up with people who I’m only just on first name terms with.  I know very little about them despite having shared hundreds of kilometres with them but the bond and affinity is so much greater than with colleagues when all we share is the job.  To share a passion – that is what connects people, not pay day.  This insight encourages me further – leave work and ride!

I drop back to find some familiar faces to say hello to.  In a far larger peloton than they are used to, I see some from our sandpit: Jim, Steve, Tom, Denes, Alistair; Toby from his sandpit island; Fleming and Richard preferring their new sand will be here somewhere too.  Cycling with others allows both social interaction and solitude.  You can ride together, chatting away, or peddle along without saying a word to the person next to you without either party being considered rude or unapproachable.  I ride along with Robert and recall how we spent an hour or so a few years back talking about nothing in particular.  Then how we both went, months later to Port Elizabeth and at the bike check-in for Ironman South Africa we got talking with a fellow competitor who had also flown down from the Gulf; how I knew a fireman from Germany working in Dubai too, and he knew of a teacher from Kuwait also, until it became apparent that it was each other we were talking about, minus the cycling helmet, glasses and lycra providing anonymity.

40km in and the pace begins to quicken as some people move to the front; others wonder why the increase in speed – maybe an intermediate sprint?  But it is not a race, yet... We arrive at a petrol station on the outskirts of Dubai and the queue outside the toilet explains: no one wants to be fifth or more down the line.

The break allows for a cup of sugary tea and cake for a dirham at the nearby restaurant – far more effective I believe that the over-priced and hyped-up gels.  But what do I know expect back in the day it was all done on bread and water, mostly...

Sugar levels high, and the sun now rising, the peloton continues on in good mood.  A sudden stop changes the bonhomie: rider down, clipped handlebars, dented helmet; nervousness prevails for a few kilometres until the fallen is forgotten.  Best not to dwell on someone else’s misfortune.  It could be me next time, everyone thinks to themselves.

Another 50km of easy riding.  Some get to the front and take the wind.  Others just sit in and enjoy the desert of the UAE.  Banking and rippling dunes, ever-changing on the whim of the winds which are thankfully low today.  Through the haze the Hajar Mountains come into view, and it will be where the real riding begins.