I’m participating in a symposium (a new one on me) this weekend as part of Bristol University’s “Feel It” festival. The small bit I’m involved in is called “Show me your scars: the cult of suffering in cycling” and promises to be a discussion of the metaphorical cult of suffering. At least, that’s what I’m hoping. Certainly I don’t actually want to show any scars to anyone. I have an appendix scar. I have some road rash, if that counts, a nice weal on my shoulder from an argument with a car. That sort of thing.
I’m not really sure why I was asked, possibly because I’m the only person stupid enough to try and write a book about a really horrible but scenic event. Further details here:
In the spirit of the event, here are some people experiencing literal pain on bikes. Be warned, some of these have a baroque splendour to them, especially the ‘ooof the tree… followed up with a rock to the chops’ variant. What a corker. The old ‘rag-doll drop over the last ramp’, that’s a beaut as well.