A state or feeling of physical or mental distress or discomfort, balanced out by the weird sense of accomplishment after completing the activity and desire to do it all over again as soon as possible, if not sooner.
“Ooh…that cyclist thrives on a bit of fusery”
I’ve coined a new cycling word. ‘Fusery’. I think it’s perfect. How else can you explain the fusion of ‘fun’ and ‘misery’ on a tough outing? This describes so many of my rides, from grinning like a fool during muddy, frozen cross rides (and races) to beasting yourself in the half-light, as your legs scream and the bike bounces around beneath you and you wonder truly, why you do it yourself, other than the fact that it’s strangely addictive. Well the answer is plain and simple: ‘cos you love it and can’t wait to do it all over again. Fusery. I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Cycle art from an original photo by Jules Carter and run through an arty filter. It was taken last year at Paris-Roubaix. We’re back next week for a spot of fusery.