ONE day left to go,
TWO hours, in truth, give or take,
THREE lines to countdown….
It’s National Poetry Day tomorrow. This year’s theme is Counting. I’d better get this posted before the second line becomes inaccurate!
https://forwardartsfoundation.org/national-poetry-day/
(02.10.24)
© Ben Quant 2024
Photo by Braden Collum on Unsplash
I shall never scale the heights of Everest,
explore the alien ocean depths beneath,
or skydive from the breathless edge of space.
I’ll never run the fastest 100 metres,
hop, step and jump into the record books,
or climb the podium of the Tour de France.
I will never win the Nobel Prize,
for scientific discoveries as yet undreamt,
or finally nailing down the theory of everything.
My paintings will not hang next to Van Gogh’s,
my verse be ranked with sonnets by the Bard,
or songs be played upon the radio.
My name will quickly fade from recollection,
there will not be biographies of me,
nor obituaries typed up in The Times.
But I will strive to love and that’s enough.
For love is all that’s truly asked of us,
and Love will be my harvest and reward.
Today I’ve been thinking about what it means to be fruitful as I’ve been planning various Harvest celebrations I shall be involved in. Paul’s words in Galatians 5:22 came to mind, ‘But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, 23 gentleness and self-control’.
(24.09.24)
© Ben Quant 2024
The camera slows.
Time passes frame
by frame. Our eyes
are fixed, breath held.
Momentarily
the journey’s forgotten
and all is now.
The missile fires
and threads its path
through raging blood
and wheels to close
upon the mark.
Released,
the crowd explodes.
History was made today as Mark Cavendish won his 35th stage on the Tour de France, the most anyone had achieved. Astonishing.
(03.07.24)
© Ben Quant 2024
Last night we made plans
Virus ignored the memo
Swapped to crazy golf
Family cancelled our planned visit due to illness, a real shame. Gave us some time to do something a little different.
(27.12.23)
© Ben Quant 2023
Photo by Steven Shircliff on Unsplash
The Day Before:
I gather in myself,
my words, my thoughts, perception,
a quiet preparation.
The Morning – 4:15am:
This is no time to rise!
I hope adrenaline
will see me through. I dress.
The Wait:
We merge. A lycra clad
invasion forms a swarm,
then pauses, shivers, tense.
The Ride:
Released, a whirring horde, we fly unstoppable.
A churning, hungry tide, we flow through streets as one
– today, for once, they’re ours. Devouring tarmac miles
we weave through concrete towers and flyovers
until
it’s gone, replaced by green relief.
We smile. The peloton is calmed, discovers peace.
We find our rhythm, settle in and settle down,
a steady cadence. Miles countdown through Epping’s trees,
and Essex fields. Pass picturesque hamlets that predate
the bicycle. Cheers accompany our carefree conversation.
Traverse Great Dunmow, Felsted, Writtle, Ongar, Chigwell
before
aggressive city walls rear over us once more.
The sun’s fierce rays pummel us, bouncing off the road.
Remorseless, it bullies us, no shade to calm it’s edge.
My head begins to throb, it’s rhythm dissonant,
conflicting with the cycle of my weary legs.
The Last Leg:
After the drag, we spin.
Momentum carries us
to Tower Bridge. It’s over.
The Finish Line:
Grin for the camera. Stop.
Disturbing halt. Dismount,
with giddy limbs confused.
The Release:
Uncleated shoes create
a new cadence. I shuffle.
Am medalled. Disconnect.
It’s taken a few weeks to put this together to try and capture the experience of riding the Ride London-Essex 100 last month. It was a hypnotic day, long but strangely timeless. I’m definitely up for doing something like it again, as long as I can find a way to stop my head overheating!
(16.06.23)
© Ben Quant 2023
The zone.
Eyes fixed, focussed yet absent,
two metres from the pedals.
All else excluded.
Legs spin.
Driving mechanical motion,
mental metronomes
propelling forwards.
Time ceases.
Suspended, gathered for
one purpose; moment, man
and bike united.
Until,
one splintering thought invades.
Awareness shatters in
momentum broken.
Occasionally I discover the zone when cycling, a joyful but fragile place.
(05.05.23)
© Ben Quant 2023
Photo by Florian Kurrasch on Unsplash
A life of neglect,
has wrinkled this skin
compounded by COVID
and war in Ukraine.
Shaken and stirred,
my body is bounced
from boulder to boulder,
more rumble than strip.
More crater than pothole,
Neil Armstrong’s at home here.
My limbs are disjointed,
my wheels are untrue.
How deep is that puddle?
How firm is that footing? Can
my padding take pummeling
much longer like this?
A crack in the cranks,
a snap of the shins,
I clasp on my cape
of the stars and stripes
and on the cusp of loud cursing
leap into the abyss…
As my training for the Ride London-Essex 100 continues, I’m becoming a little tired of the impact of the state of the roads on body and bike…
(20.04.23)
© Ben Quant 2023
Photo by Docob5 at English WikipediaW, CC BY-SA 3.0, via Wikimedia Commons
Hello sir, what can we do for you?
A mystery sensation when you pedal?
Hmm, might be the bottom bracket’s bearings,
is there a crunching when you turn the cranks?
Those pedals, are they new? Perhaps your cleats
are loose or worn. Let’s strip her down and change
your chain, it’s stretched and straining the cassette.
Your derailleurs look dodgy, did you know
(a cheeky wink) that wheels have nipples.
We’ll check your cables and their casing, rust
can stop their operation, make them snag.
Same for your brakes, your callipers and levers,
and let’s index those gears to make them smooth.
But sir, I hate to say it but I must,
have you considered that another factor
might be at play? Perhaps it’s not the bike
that creaks (a wince), perhaps it’s you.
Maybe the grinding’s in your knees, the pain
comes from a back that’s old and worn. I fear
There’s not so much that we can do…
for you.
I find when I’m cycling for any length of time that I begin to obsess about the sound and feel of my bike. The smallest thing becomes amplified until I become convinced there’s something wrong. Am I just looking for an excuse, or looking in the wrong place?
(21.03.23)
© Ben Quant 2023
Image by Jarkko Mänty from Pixabay
My longest ride awaits.
The bike is set and shoes
await for me to slip
them on and clip them in.
They sit and beckon yet
I hesitate, it’s been
too long since I have pushed
myself this far. I wonder,
do I have the legs or will
they turn to futile mush,
betray me? Foolishly
I’ve shared my plans. The only
choice is suffering
embarrassment or pain.
Too late I speculate:
why do we test ourselves
like this? I sigh, reach out
and put them on and leave…
Today I’m killing two birds with one stone. I have a midday meeting in Cambridge and decided to use it as a training exercise ahead of the London-Essex 100 in May, and am cycling up and back. It’s just under 80 miles. It sounded fun when I first mentioned it. Today it feels a little daunting…
I’m raising funds for Parkinson’s UK – sponsor my London 100 efforts here: https://events.parkinsons.org.uk/fundraisers/benquant/ride-london-100
(03.03.23)
© Ben Quant 2023
Photo by Josh Nuttall on Unsplash
‘It’s just a short climb,’ they said,
‘A little rise, a quick kick.
It’s nothing that will trouble you.’
But they forgot I grew up in
The Fens; a horizontal line
Of land that’s paper thin, all sky.
To me it was Mount Everest.
I set off from my base camp with
Adventure in my heart, but soon
I needed oxygen and Sherpas.
The final straw? A lycra clad
Illusion, laughing as it passed…
I’m currently training to ride the London-Essex 100 in May for Parkinson’s UK. Encountering slopes, my legs reminded me of a fleeting encounter just outside Sidmouth when I was on my first major ride… (Ps. If you want to sponsor me you can do so here: https://events.parkinsons.org.uk/fundraisers/benquant)
(07.02.23)
© Ben Quant 2023
Photo by Sebastian Graser on Unsplash
Ode for the Day 
