My time as a professional cyclist

Saturday 13th December 2025

When I check the definition of a professional cyclist, I get something along the lines of “A professional cyclist is a highly trained athlete who earns a living by competing in bicycle races…”  So what’s the difference between a professional and an amateur?  Surely it’s just the act of getting paid.  By the simplest of definitions, at certain times in my life I have earned money through riding a bike which made me a professional cyclist at those times.  Also, if you consider that the people who run golf shops are called golf professionals, the fact that I’ve worked in a bike shop must also qualify me as a professional cyclist on those grounds alone. OK, so the definition is being strained like a tea bag on its fifth dunk, but you really can’t argue with the basic premise.

The first time I found myself getting paid for cycling was in 1984 after I’d changed jobs within the same company.  It was a promotion but involved moving to a different site, and even though I’d elected to move sites (by applying for a job there), the rules were that I was eligible to receive an allowance for the first two years covering my additional travel costs.  I wasn’t complaining. 

When I applied to HR about making the claim, I was asked what car I drove (to calculate the mileage allowance) and when I said that I’d be cycling to work, the lady looked at me askance, as if she hadn’t come across that particular brand of lunatic before.  She had to check with her boss whether the allowance could be paid for a bike, but I was delighted when she confirmed that it could, and I would be paid a handsome 3.8p per mile!  I could only claim the additional mileage which I would incur through changing sites, but that amounted to 11 miles per day which equated to £2.09 per week!  Real mid-ranking professional cyclists don’t earn a lot, but in those days, about £3,000 per year would be typical, so I was a very poor relative at just £100 per year.

Anyway, even though I earned perhaps a couple of hundred quid during my first spell as a professional cyclist, I never included it on my CV, sticking to the more mainstream engineering aspects which I felt would be of more interest to future prospective employers.

Moving forward to 2018, the price of 2^nd class postage was 58p, and since I had then retired, I decided it would make sense for me to scurry round the houses delivering Christmas cards to my friends.  In that year, I delivered 17 cards in two rides totalling 49 miles.  That saved my £9.86 in postage costs and worked out at 20p per mile which is higher than my rate of 3.8p in 1984 (even when adjusted for inflation).   

Over the years, the rate per mile has varied with the price of postage and the delivery miles I rode.  On average, it’s been about 17p/mile, but this year, it’s dropped to just 16p.  However, when inflation is taken into account, this rate is very similar to what I first earned in 1984.  Of course, one way to increase my rate per mile is to deliver more cards locally, thus increasing revenue without increasing the mileage.  The flaw with this is that I’ll have to buy and send more cards…

Even professional cyclists have time for leisure, and yesterday, I joined three others on what was described to me as a gravel ride.  I checked beforehand, and I was assured that the route was definitely suitable for a road bike.  And so it was, but it was still very muddy.  Although I could ride all of it, some bits were quite hairy.  The route was lovely – small Cheshire lanes, a bit of canal, miles of bridleway and a disused railway line – but in mid-December after quite a lot of rain, the puddles and mud were ubiquitous. 

I was in front of the group when I encountered the first serious stretch of mud and being unsure of the depth and the firmness of the ground I stopped to assess the situation.  My fellow riders sneered at me as they passed by and cycled straight through with no consequences.  I had to accept the ‘mard-arse’ name for the rest of the ride.  Once I’d realised that the surface was usually quite firm and my skinny tyres weren’t going to sink axle deep as I’d first feared, I became more adventurous.  Part of the road beside a quarry was very undulating and was quite enjoyable once I accepted that the water-filled gullies were nothing to be scared of.

We took a trip up to Old Pale Hill, a viewpoint near the Delamere forest from where we could allegedly see nine counties in addition to the one we were standing in.  Visibility was fair, and we could pick out many landmarks that were in neighbouring counties.

Lunch was at a lovely café on a disused railway line which served basic food really well.  We fell into conversation with another cyclist from the Delamere Cycling club and he told us of a weekend trip in May 2026 which he thought might suit us.  It was at a hostel on Anglesey which held about 40 guests and he’d only sold 20 places by then.  After we told him that we had three definites immediately, and we may be able to rustle up a further 10 – 15, he was surprised, but said he’d have to confirm whether there was un upper limit for us.  Anyway, three of us look set to enjoy a weekend away in North Wales organised by someone else.

We spent too long at the café (or rode there too slowly) so that once we set off we had to make good progress to be back before dark, which then was about 4pm (sunset at 3.50).  This would have been easy had we not experienced two simultaneous punctures. This may have been unremarkable if it were not for the fact that they were on different bikes and they were caused by a nail in one and a piece of glass in the other. We were off-road at the time, so I would expect thorns, but nails and glass? These are both usually found in urban environments so this was odd.  Both punctures were soon fixed, but then we had to stop twice more before we finally managed to properly seal one tube. 

The last few miles were along quiet country lanes, so the lack of light didn’t cause us difficulties. We arrived back at 4:15 after a very enjoyable ride.