Grief, enduro, and one rider's quest to enjoy cycling again

by Tom Reynolds May 6, 2025 More from Tom Reynolds+

Tom Reynolds has a long and varied history in cycling. He’s the current president of St. Kilda Cycling Club in Melbourne, he’s owned and run teams, and he’s worked for cycling's governing body here in Australia. He’s also a longtime rider himself. As Tom writes in this long-form essay, a personal tragedy a few years ago fundamentally changed his relationship with cycling, but in recent times, a new challenge has helped him rediscover his love of riding.
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This story contains reference to suicide and may be triggering to some. If you are struggling, contact:
Australia: 13 11 14
US: 988 Lifeline
UK: The Samaritans – 116 123

Prelude

In April 2022, my longtime mate, windsurfing buddy and cycling motivator-in-chief Tony Prysten lost his long battle with mental health and took his life, aged just 50.

I was away working as media manager for the Australian Superbikes when Duncan, another mate, called. I kept asking him to repeat it as if the words might change the second time.

They didn't.

“Tom … mate … what can I tell you … Tony died.”

That riding life

Like a lot of folks, I found my way back to bikes in adulthood; first for fun, then as a passion, a job, and even a bit beyond that.

Before bikes, it was windsurfing. I was technically a master instructor, but mostly arsed my way through my 20s teaching, travelling, chasing girls, and bumbling through part-time uni (law, arts, beer, failure). Tony was an integral part of that crew. It was a bloody good time.

When the wind dropped, we started riding bikes. I bought a carbon bike I couldn’t afford, clung to the back of any bunch that would have me – and got hooked. We diversified into mountain bikes too, and in my first crash, I broke my collarbone.

What a sport/lifestyle.

A few years and a lot more bikes later, I joined the St Kilda Cycling Club (SKCC) – a small-world move, given local windsurfing legend Mike Englisch helped found the club, and his brother Andy was in business with Tony.

Somewhere along the way, I got properly stuck into cycling. I helped Shannon Johnson make it to Masters Worlds, co-founded a National Road Series/Continental team, joined the SKCC board, co-owned a women’s NRS team, and somehow became the last media manager at Cycling Australia before it morphed into AusCycling. I even pitched the idea that grew into the SBS TV show Trail Towns.

So yeah, I was all-in on the cycling caper. Especially if Tony was involved – club rides, race days, or one of his infamous “small bunch” spins.

Wherever we went, bikes always came with us. Windsurfing kit? Surfboards? Sure. But there was always a bike.

Tom Reynolds (left) and Tony Prysten (right).

Interlude #1: My opening words from Tony’s wake

"There are three needs of the griever: To find the words for the loss, to say the words aloud and to know that the words have been heard.

… and while this is a wake and it comes with all the necessary elements of sadness and melancholy, I come from Irish stock and our wakes – while they often include a punchup – are very much about celebration and joyful reflection.

So let’s see what we can do to honour our need to grieve, but honour our friend Tony and the wonderful things he did, the memories he made and the legacy he leaves after just 50 years with us."

Riding on

Just a few months after Tony passed, outgoing SKCC president Campbell Fuller called me and said it was (apparently) time I was president of Australia’s once-biggest club that was unfortunately suffering after the closure of its crit course and COVID-19 member slump. Of course, I agreed – because hell, I really love the St Kilda Cycling Club, I love an adventure, and apparently I especially love working unmetered hours for free.

It had not occurred to me that I had not ridden with the club after Tony died, and when I tried to return to an SKCC ride, twice I came home before they even started and on the third I just quietly turned off and went home after a few minutes. I parked the road bike in the shed and the tyres went flat and perished from lack of use.

Over time, I realised that I still wanted to ride, I just could not ride the old Beach Road routes “at this time”. Family holiday later that year at Phillip Island? Got out the road bike, new Schwalbe One tyres, and banged out some k’s. I was still riding my KTM 450 dirt bike on occasion, so it wasn’t all gloom. But that fucking road bike on fucking Beach Road – a road just 150 metres from my house … nope.

This went on for some time.

As a man of action (if given sufficient time), I decided that rather than sensibly spend money on therapy to get to the bottom of all of this turmoil, I would instead allocate therapy funds to yet another new bike and maybe start going to the gym. I hope, gentle reader, that you are nodding along to this idea. My wife, who was definitely in the “get formal help” camp, agreed anyway. She knew that bikes can be the best therapy of all.