Ever heard of the sport “Extreme Ironing”? This is where people take an ironing board to a remote, and /or precarious location and iron a few items of clothing. The pastime has an official web site describing extreme ironing as “the latest danger sport that combines the thrills of an extreme outdoor activity with the satisfaction of a well – pressed shirt”
I understand the motivation for adding spice to a seemingly mundane house hold activity. If jumping on a helicopter with ironing board, iron, starch and an assortment of your small’s and unmentionables, to be dropped off on a mountain top to remove the creases from your knickers floats your boat, drive on.
But as a practitioner of a REAL extreme sport I regard Extreme Ironing, Mountain Climbing, Crocodile Wrestling and other similar so called “Extreme Sports” as the pursuit’s of Nancy boys and wimps.
I mock those who claim to look death in the face when they plummet over the edge of Niagara Falls in wooden barrels.
I pour scorn on those satisfied with the meagre adrenaline rush of surfing fifty foot waves breaking over razor sharp rocks in shark infested waters.
For I have cycled in Dublin’s rush hour traffic, not once, but many times. A fact made all the more remarkable is, that for years I considered this as just a mundane method of transport. My recent experience’s of getting the afternoon train from Ennis to Dublin with my fold up bike. Arriving in Hueston, folding the bike together and diving in to the flow of the snarling quay traffic can only be described as exhilarating. The exhilaration enhanced by the calm of the contemplative three hour train journey before hand. You have time to contemplate as you travel on the train, prepare mentally. Enter a zen like state of readiness that enhances battling with the ebb and flow of the maelstrom that is the traffic on the quays. The ever present threat of a wipe out by a double decker bus, sharpening senses that will be needed to swing across to O Connell Bridge and dash towards D’oliere st, avoiding 3 and 5 series BMW’s, whose occupants at best view you with disdain and at worst, a soft moving target.
Master Yoda himself would applaud as you weave a path that will find a perfect line for the swing around Trinity College.
For me the business of getting from point A to point B is incidental. Timing journey’s so that Dublin will be dark and if lucky raining with high winds. Hoping that there will news of car tax hikes with extra penalties for 3 and 5 series BMW,s will enhance an experience greatly improved since large trucks were banned from the city centre , the traffic moves with greater fluidity, more speed , you catch a perfect lane that you can use to spin your self in the right direction.
It wont be long before groups of young athletic types more likely to be seen with surfboards and snow boards than folding bikes will be spotted making their way to Dublin. Discussing on the journey where the worst traffic is likely to be.
There was a time when the likes of me stood on the platform in Hueston Station, a geek like oddity. High vis vest, bike folded to look like an accident and a badly fitted bicycling helmet perched on head.
Those days are over , one can feel the hushed sense of awe from the other train passengers as you put on trouser clips and disappear behind a row of 25A’s.