Travel Reads: The Man Who Cycled The Planet

At the end of the month, I’m embarking on an epic 3-day bike ride through the Canadian Rockies. I’m already hearing excuses from my taint to keep away from the 90-mile days on the saddle. God knows what your grundle would really feel like following 194 days and 18,000 miles. Mark Beaumont did just that, crushing the prior world record by 81 days, and publishing his circumnavigation of the globe in the book, The Man Who Cycled The World.

Not getting read this book yet, I discovered a few critiques that I thought I’d share. They are usually mixed, but what do you expect? Now, if you’ve been on a bike trip, longer than the typical trip to the nearby grocer, you may recognize where I’m coming from.

One may anticipate dodging Taliban bullets or a courageous internal struggle overcoming the miles. Maybe incredibly poetical descriptions of wine country or saw-toothed terrain. Really, if margaritas aren’t already blended for him when he pulls into the hotel’s parking lot at the end of the day, I can say there will most likely be complaints of crotch soreness and too a lot of mechanical issues, all sprinkled with a few episodes of soul searching and cultural insights.

But, as I will aim to do, I will open the book with an open mind knowing that having said that eloquent this book is, it is a damn quest. One Mark must be proud of.

The Telegraph writes: “Growing up in the Scottish countryside, Beaumont knew from childhood that extreme physical challenges satisfied a hunger in his soul, a theme that he touches on throughout this account.”

The Times says: “we never got a sense of who he was, or why he did this other than to snag a place in the Guinness Book of Records. In the end, Beaumont never ever screamed, shouted or cried with joy, fear or relief. He never gave any indication of what exactly his soul was made of, or if he had 1 at all. He just cycled.”

As you can see . . . mixed critiques. When I mount the trusty green Trek in a few weeks, I might be “satisfying a hunger” inside me. Who knows? I may scream, shout, or cry, too. Or not. The 1 thing do I know, undeniably, is that I will just cycle.