Just on a year ago, Poss started cycling. She did a series of kids triathlons, which lit a spark in her. She found peace on the back of a bike, and after joining a cycling club a little while later, she’s never looked back.
It’s not a sport I’d ever really considered for her. It’s not one of the standard ones they offer at primary school; it’s not a team sport, it’s not something that schools seem to push beyond bike safety which seems to be covered in a term somewhere along the line.
Yet. It seems as though I’ve got a cyclist on my hands. She is now training a twice a week, and at the moment, she’s racing twice a week as well. She gets off the bike exhausted, but happy. Spent, but exhilarated.
She’s found a group of people who also love the sport, a wonderful team of people she rides alongside, but there is also independence for her. Routine. Repetition. A sense of obsession that cyclists seem to have, especially when it comes to their bikes.
She’s got her favourite riders, teams and bike brands; following them on Instagram as they ride their way around the world. She gets up early to watch the few races that are televised, and seeks out footage on YouTube when she can’t find it.
So when I got the chance to bring her along to Tour Down Under in South Australia recently when I was working, it seemed like a no brainer. However, what I wasn’t prepared for was her overwhelm. Her joy. The utter completeness that being amongst her people would bring.
We rode (yes, me too!), we watched the professionals ride, we explored the Tour Village. We did all the things that Bupa had put on for families, enjoying the little moments we were together as a team of two. We indulged in all things cycling for five days, as she soaked up every opportunity to be a part of it all.
She was lucky enough to meet some of her heroes, including Netty Edmonson and Anna Meares, and while she missed out on Robbie McEwan, I was able to get a hand drawn card to him on her behalf.
Women in cycling is taking a turn for the better, with the professional women, and amateurs alike, all there out in force. And I couldn’t ask for better role models for my daughter.
At one point, she turned to me and sighed a loud sigh. When I asked her what was wrong, she looked at me as though I couldn’t have misread her more… “it’s my jam mum… cycling is my jam”.
And really – what more is there to say?
Disclaimer: this is not a sponsored post. I was in Adelaide at TDU as I work for Bupa, and I was able to bring Poss with me for part of the trip, with thanks to my mum who was there to look after her and be my very own support team.