Please pray for my cycling partners

Uitenhage Methodists Church's "real" cyclists (as against so-called wannabees who do 160km on a Saturday, followed by a 12km run then a 3 km swim just to cool down - sorry, 'Iron Man' Ian) are taking a bit of strain at the moment, both physically and spiritually.

Neville pulled up short this morning, complaining of stomach cramps and feeling a bit pukey. Hanno (who is driving back from Bloemfontein today) is in a really difficult place, and needs a few good friends around him right now. As for me, I'm actually doing okay, apart from a slightly sore bum and the occasional bout of "snot en trane" as I think of my family, so far away.

Please pray that the "full Gospel" cyclists of UMC will get back to full steam very soon.

"Biiiiiicycle, Biiiiiicycle, Biiiiiicycle, I want to ride my Biiiiiicycle, ..."

Still smarting from the outburst of raucous laughter from the Janssensdal congregation a couple of weeks ago, in response to my sermon illustration where I proudly declared that "I am a cyclist" (maybe my rather rotund frame had something to do with the reaction?), I decided to put this "faith statement" into action this morning.

Joining two similarly-shaped congregants at the un-Godly hour of 5:00, we set out on a not too unpleasant route around the suburbs of Uitenhage. I know that 15km is not much of a cycle - Ian, one of our members who participates in Iron Man events, uses that as a warm-up - but it was nonetheless quite enjoyable. After a 5-year layoff from reasonably serious cycling, it felt good to get the lungs working and the legs spinning again. Even though the fitness is not there, the body somehow still remembers what to do.

My ego was somewhat bruised by a couple of lithe young ladies, who greeted us sweetly and then proceeded to drop us like a bad habit. Then again, they probably weigh less than half of what I do - wait 'till I catch you girls on a downhill...

But spare a thought for poor Hanno, whose ride this morning was the first time he'd been on a bicycle in 13 years. By the time we got from Neville's house to the stop street (about 200 metres), Hanno just kept saying, "Lord, I'm gonna die!" However, he ended up doing a fairly creditable 8km, managing to finish in the upright position.

I assured him that the lump on his backside that will appear about 6 hours after the ride (thanks to those obscenely skinny saddles) will only FEEL like he's messed his pants, except that it will probably hurt a whole lot more than "filling one's nappy".

And to think that we do this for FUN?