From the moment he slid into a saddle
he wide straddled the earth on a thing without wings
aerodynamically bound to conquer contours
race rivers hurtle hammer and shift he had the gift of speed
the physical need to flex his legs and work a precision machine
feet flashing bending bridging the cadence of his heart changing
to meet the cardiovascular thrumming of the pedal fall and rise
as if he rode in the slipstream of the gods.
aplaceforpoetry 
nicely captured, i love cycling
Lots of cyclists visit these hills – I have two bikes, somewhere.