What that has to do with me coming into possession of a pair of Oakley Jawbreakers and celebrating my own mediocrity is a slightly convoluted tale but, since you asked, I'm happy to share.
When I first started 'cycling' as opposed to simply 'riding bikes', I was one of those rare beasts you pass on the road with no mitts and no sunglasses. You might experience a moment a self doubt as you rocket past, wondering what marginal gain I have acquired by shedding these few grams, what aerodynamic benefit am I quietly reaping by going out semi nude? What you wouldn't know is that I didn't have any of these things in mind... I just didn't own any sunglasses and still find that going gloveless helps me to disperse heat but thank you for being momentarily intimidated.
What you also wouldn't know is that my face is some sort of powerful magnet for Bees and Sandflies, as I soon discovered when my average speed crept up and I was venturing further and further into the rather lovely countryside that surrounds Hastings. In addition to being constantly heralded as Shoreditch on Sea, this town also has the highest population of suicidal airborne insects known to man, something to bear in mind if you are ever tempted to move your artisan bunting and chutney emporium down to the coast. My eyes were perpetually being pelted by insects, some just casually smashing into them, others becoming lodged to die a horrible death and leaving me to watch my average speed drop as my efforts to get them out intensified.
Clearly, something had to be done to maintain my Strava averages and some sort of sporting eyewear was the answer.
Sports sunglasses are a strange beast, ruined forever by middle aged men who wear them whilst out shopping with their wives, lending them a perpetually pissed off expression and the quiet air of someone who means to abscond with you with you in the back of their van or talk to you about their U2 covers band (perhaps even both). It also does not help that my wife has a very real aversion to these glasses (primarily for the reasons above, although she puts it in slightly less flattering terms), so much so that even now I wait to leave the house and get around the corner before putting mine on, for fear that her love for me may die.
My first tentative foray into sports glasses came with the London 100 in 2015 and a swift visit to Evans at London Bridge. The suddenly very real prospect of dragging myself over 100 miles with a variety of drowning insects in my eyes caused me to make this sudden detour and purchase a £15 pair of very basic clear glasses (my reasoning being that I could always use them for odd jobs or pillar drilling, should I ever decide to take up either in later life).
They were perfectly serviceable, a revelation to wear on the ride and I sported them fairly consistently on the bike after that.
I'd like to say that I bought another pair because I lost these, or needed something more technical to meet my ever increasing prowess on the bike. However, as many of you reading this will understand, it was actually just that little nagging voice inside the cyclists brain that began to suggest, casually, that maybe these glasses weren't cool enough. Maybe they looked too cheap. Perhaps my legs might be stronger and faster if I treated them to a better, more technical slice of eyewear, something more akin to those you'd see in the professional peloton...
All of which sounded more than reasonable to me (after all, my little nagging voice only has my best interests at heart, even if it does have a stark disregard for my bank balance), so I duly went back to Evans and surreptitiously tried on a few pairs of slightly more expensive glasses.
I settled on a pair of Tifosi Dolemite 2.0 with a photochromic lens (the prospect of having to predict what lens I might need to counter the ever shifting seaside light just seemed too much like work and, to be honest, it just seemed like a cool sort of technical detail).
They weren't exactly what I had had in mind and a far cry from the Poc or Oakley shapes dominating the peloton but they suited my budget (around the £60 mark) and didn't make any bold statements about my average speed or sprinting abilities. They were, however, a solid pair of cycling glasses for a competent middle aged cyclist and were neutral enough that I wouldn't need to worry about them not matching my kit. They successfully blocked the shifting light, kept out the insects, were slightly too small for my face, had a thick frame that obscured a fair amount of peripheral vision and fogged like an absolute swine on any kind of climb in even reasonable temperatures.
I loved them.
I proudly sported these glasses on my return to the London 100 in 2016 and sailed through the ride on strong legs to set what still stands as my best time. I felt and performed like a much more informed, dedicated and competent rider (and I also appreciated that they hid my very tired looking eyes after a brutally early start time and a rough nights sleep in an Elephant & Castle hostel). As I said, cycling is a strangely emotive sport and small details can sometimes make a huge difference to how your brain and body get along, regardless of the fact that you're half blinded by misty lenses as you drag your padded backside up Leith Hill.
Sadly, the brain can work both ways and, in the following year, I changed job and traded my usual cycling routine in order to gain some more time with my family. I immediately found it difficult to get motivated when out of my usual rhythm and, as I spent less time on the bike, I noticed that the weights and core exercises I managed to fit in were beginning to alter my body shape and muscle mass. I looked healthy but my power to weight was all out and my nutritional needs on the bike had changed too. I was suddenly set back, slower and less able, suddenly not confident in what I was and wasn't able to do. Hills were hard work, my average speed dropped and we had one of the worst summers for wind and rain that I can remember. Everything conspired to keep me off of the bike in the run up to 2017's London 100, to the point that I seriously considered abandoning.
However, with rain forecast and almost no structured training, I duly set off to London to sign in at the Excel Centre and, up there without my family for the first time, I was free to have a good look around the various stands and displays. It was there that I stumbled upon the Oakley Jawbreakers being sold at a discount (although still enough money to force some serious mathematics and hasty restructuring of my projected rum consumption for the month).
I hovered, I procrastinated, the little nagging voice in my brain suggested that I try them on, hinting that perhaps my under trained legs might be stronger and faster if I treated them to a better, more technical slice of eyewear, something more akin to those you'd see in the professional peloton...
And so, I seem to have crossed the finish line of the London 100 in three successive years in three different pairs of glasses. I don't really need to say anything in terms of a review, the Jawbreakers are a fantastic piece of kit and there are a lot of other, more technically able writers who will guide you through their many fantastic qualities. There was still some minor fogging in the periphery of my vision on those hills and one, very game bug managed to sucked in through the vents in the lenses but they are light, comfortable and the rather natty red mirrored lenses do an incredible job of filtering out UV rays and the general noise that some glasses let through. More importantly, I felt like a better cyclist and the shape made me feel more aero, more aggressive in the saddle again. They are a pleasure to ride in and I would recommend forgoing the low to mid price offerings if you can and go straight for these, they will speak straight to emotive cyclist inside of you and make you feel like a pro, even when your limbs disagree.
I'd like to be able to finish this story by telling you that I powered through the 2017 London 100 and set a new personal record, my legs suddenly rejuvenated by my new glasses and brimming with new found wattage stores. Unfortunately, I slogged it through rain, a strong headwind and had to admit defeat on Leith Hill, eventually staggering my way across the line about 40 minutes slower than my personal best and 30 minutes slower than I managed on a steel framed city bike two years before. Despite that, I managed to hit 57mph drag racing through central London, felt almost no spray as I tucked at the back of the group on the wet roads and enjoyed feeling the compulsion to ride spring back to life inside me as I ticked off agonising miles from behind my red tinted visor.
I will be back for next years 100, hopefully with a body that is more in line with my renewed desire to better my performance, when I can do my bike and kit justice.
As I said, there is a huge amount that can influence how you feel on the bike that will eventually translate into stronger legs and a renewed urge to put in the miles if you let it. It's far from an exact science but, in terms of proven results, I can honestly say that I've never felt better about putting in a mediocre performance than I did in those glasses.