My annual ride in the Tour de Chicory

America’s roadsides in July and August typically bear a ribbon of bright blue flowers known as chicory. They are tough plants that grow in disturbed soil, often popping up through gravel and grit to unleash their starlike blue blossoms in the summer sun.

As tough as they are alive, they fade quickly when plucked. The bright blue flowers turn sour and dark. Even a stem in a glass of water is sometimes not enough to spare the blossoms. So I stop to savor them in their place at least once each summer.

I cherish their ephemeral glory. Long rows of chicory stand like fans alongside the road during summer cycling trips. They pop up like crowds cheering cyclists in the Tour de France. All that is missing as I ride past is the noise.

Yet I don’t really miss that either. The whirr of bike tires on the summer tarmac is enough reward for me. My days of leading races may be gone, but the bright blue flicker of chicory in the periphery marks my pace no matter how fast I’m going. That’s a winning effort no matter how you look at it.

About Christopher Cudworth

Christopher Cudworth is a content producer, writer and blogger with more than 25 years’ experience in B2B and B2C marketing, journalism, public relations and social media. Connect with Christopher on Twitter: @genesisfix07 and blogs at werunandride.com, therightkindofpride.com and genesisfix.wordpress.com Online portfolio: http://www.behance.net/christophercudworth
This entry was posted in Christopher Cudworth, competition, cycling, cycling the midwest, race pace, riding and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.