Shorts stories: Blandine
Each pair of cycling shorts I possess has its own story to tell.
Each is marked by time and by the obstacles overcome by bike, on roads across Europe and Africa to South America and the Middle East. They bear silent witness to the challenges faced together and have been observers of the life I’ve led for 7 years.
Each journey ridden comes with its own set of vivid and unforgettable memories, each one leaves its mark on your mind and on your soul.
Your body bears the scars of the effort you put in, of the impact of harsh climates on delicate skin and the rare but unavoidable falls on the hazard-strewn roads of the adventure cyclist. Your kit too.
The harder the expedition, the more visible the scars on a cyclist and his kit. Each snag and unsightly hole reminds me afresh of how challenging that journey was, the folly of the idea and the glory of any accomplishments achieved
Conditions are spartan and I pack extremely light. My shorts become my most precious possession.
Like the fisherman with the threadbare pullover he can’t bear to part with, I keep each piece of kit from my long-distance journeys, aware of the bond which links us.
Throwing them away at the end of the journey would be an insult. Instead, as my partner in adventure they enjoy a well-earned rest on the shelf along with the trophies from my past life.
