Looking Back, and Planning Ahead.

It’s mid-October and at this time of year I usually look back on my year and think about all the events that I’ve ridden. Not this year. I have ridden fewer miles than usual this year. All of the events I might have ridden if the pandemic had not cancelled them have past, and I’ve come to accept 2020 without events. Without something to train for, I changed my habits. While I enjoyed my rides, they felt different. I spent more time riding alone. I rode fewer miles, but my rides were more intense. I will need to adapt again. I have used Century events to plan out my year for well over a decade. This year was no gradual change – it was a shock. What do I do now? I thought I’d look back on my cycling history, and set some goals for 2021.

A rest stop at the Patuxent Rural Legacy Ride. Not a century, but a ride I love and don’t want to miss.

I’ll start with a little personal history. I began road cycling with my local club in 2005, after returning to Maryland from the Seattle area. I have ridden over 100 Century events since my first in 2006. For years I rode 10-12 centuries per year, most of them within a day’s drive of the Washington DC area. Rides like the Seagull Century, Indian Head 100, Backroads Century, Maine Lighthouse Ride, Bay to Bay, 6 Pillars Century and more have been part of my riding plans for years. I’ve written about all of them here in the past.

I have ridden over 11,000 miles in Century events alone. That doesn’t even consider other events that were less than 100 miles that I’ve ridden. I’ve spent a lot of money on entry fees, and a slice of that has gone to charities. Events have been good for my health. They have been good for my social life, and they have even done some good for others. I’m proud of that. I estimate that I have ridden over 36,000 miles since I took up road cycling in 2005. That’s 15 years of commitment to something that I look on as a hobby, which became a lifestyle and a passion. Cycling events have become part of my identity.

As a century rider I’m not unique. The fastest I’ve ever ridden 100 miles was just under 5 hours, averaging just over 20 miles per hour. I’ve only done that once, and while it felt good, I don’t think I will ride another 5 hour century. While I like to ride fast, I’m not a fast rider. I may be a strong rider, but I’m nothing special. Given my conditioning over the past 15 years, I’d say I’m a good rider for my age and size, but I’ll never be a racer. I climb well for a big man, and I enjoy rolling rides and climbs. I’ve ridden events from tabletop flat to mountainous. The average speed of my first century was 15.6 mph at the Seagull Century in 2006, a flat course. Last year I rode the Seagull averaging 17.4 mph – 13 years after the first one. The fastest I’ve ridden the Seagull was an 18.6 mph average speed. I was riding my fastest about 8-10 years ago. The speeds I’ve ridden have varied, but not wildly. I had to look up the speeds from my old training journals. As I get older, I expect my speed to go down. It’s a fact of life. I can’t compete with past efforts.

Whether you finish a century ride in 5 hours or 9 hours, you get the same prize – the satisfaction of having completed your ride. Centuries are challenges, not races. Another challenge I’ve done is riding two centuries back to back in a single weekend, Saturday and Sunday. I’ve done that 4 times. It will definitely make you feel run down the following Monday! I don’t need to do that again. Like the 5 hour century, It’s enough that I’ve done it at all. 2020 saw my club cancel group rides, and that was a problem for my motivation too. Club rides are excellent training and preparation. Assuming that club rides come back, 2021 may provide new friends and new groups to ride with. I’m definitely going back to club rides.

I’ve met a lot of people through cycling. Some are very close friends. Some have come and gone, some still hover at the edges of my cycling experiences, some will join me occasionally, and a few I won’t see again, and that makes me sad, but I’m proud to have known them. I’ve lost acquaintances and friends and drinking buddies whom I’ve ridden with over the years. That is the sad part of doing a group activity. The groups change. When a riding group stays constant, as mine had for several years, it becomes so familiar that you become a team. Unfortunately for me, the group I once enjoyed is breaking up and going in different directions. Nothing is forever.

Years ago I had a big team to ride with. That has changed. This picture was taken at the start of the Seagull Century in 2014.

As I look to 2021, I see that over the years I have built rituals around some Century rides that make riding them memorable. Some can be reduced in distance to a metric century, or 62 miles. The difference in the distance is significant, but a metric is enjoyable in a different way. It makes fewer demands of you, and lets you enjoy the scenery more. Yet it still feels good to complete one. Looking back makes me realize that I have nothing more to prove. Over the last 15 years I’ve done so much cycling that I’ve exceeded any expectations I might have started with.

My reason for riding all these events has changed over time. At first I just wanted to ride a century. Then I wanted to experience new century rides. Everything changed when a friend challenged me to ride 10 in a year with him. 10-12 a year became normal for 7 years. I scaled that back somewhat in 2017, but not much. I need to change my goals again. I’ll still ride my favorite events, but I will support other riders or maybe try new events, perhaps some multi-day tours. I’ll plan to ride 2 to 4 centuries per year. That’s still a lot. I may ride a metric century option at other familiar events. If a friend wants to ride one that I haven’t planned for, I can still join in. I’ll stay in shape, but I won’t do it in quite the same way. What I want to get from century rides now are small joys. These joys are found in the people, the scenery, the fatigue, the post ride celebration, the satisfaction of finishing and good memories. I will still use century rides as goals, but backing away from the frequency will keep things fresh and hopefully give me a new perspective. I’ll still make cycling a journey of the spirit though. Given all the time I’ve spent cycling, and my health, there’s no reason to stop, but less may be more in 2021.

Cycling the Tunnel of Trees

I’ve been feeling acute cabin fever after working from home for months, and I miss my usual outlets. I didn’t know how much it was all getting me down until I got away for a week. Nothing will pull you out of a funk like some vacation time. This year I decided to accept an invitation to visit my now retired friend Ron in Mackinaw City Michigan. It was my first trip to the Great Lakes, and I was keen about getting out and seeing some of the things that had been described to me over the years. One of the most intriguing things that I have heard about was a road known as the Tunnel of Trees.

In Cross Village at the North End of the Tunnel of Trees, just before setting out on the ride..

The Tunnel of Trees refers to Michigan route M-119 between the towns of Harbor Springs in the south and Cross Village in the north. The ride itself is short, about 20 miles long in either direction, but very scenic. As the name says, it is shaded by trees and it runs along the top of a bluff with Lake Michigan to the west. It’s a single lane road, not divided by a center line, with only fog lines at the sides. Cars can pass each other in opposite directions with care, though without a center line traffic tends to keep to the middle and riders should exercise caution and ride in line rather than side by side. The reason that I’d heard about the Tunnel of Trees was that it has been a part of the local event rides, and at least 3 of my friends had ridden it. It was one of the things that I wanted on this vacation – to finally ride it. In fact, two days before we rode the tunnel, we had the chance to drive it, and we had a scenic drive and stroll through Harbor Springs in addition to driving the tunnel. While the tunnel seemed better by bicycle, knowing what was there helped my mental preparation a great deal.

The ride isn’t flat by any means. There is only one steep climb from the North. From the south that same climb has a warning to trucks at the top about a 7% grade, but riding north to south it’s a long climb that feels just a bit steeper than that. In general, the road isn’t flat but has only a couple of climbs that could be called notable and they’re on the south end toward Harbor Springs. The rest was gently rolling. As I’ve often said, that’s why your road bike has a small chainring! The road runs mostly downhill when ridden from south to north, the way the local events take it. I rode it in both directions, starting at the north end from Cross Village. The interesting thing to note is that as many times as Ron has ridden the tunnel of trees, he had not ridden it in the North to South direction before.

Late September in Northern Michigan is a beautiful season for cycling. We rode the tunnel on a Wednesday in late morning and early afternoon, and while it was hazy, it was bright enough to show the building fall colors. The temperature rose from the high 60’s into the low 70’s while we rode. Perfect conditions. When Lake Michigan came into sight the haze prevented a long view, but the lake was visible and the sight of it was part of the ride’s charm. We set out at a steady pace, riding strong and enjoying the views all around us. Seven miles from Cross Village we arrived at the general store in Good Hart. It’s a great stopping place, particularly when riding north, and it’s a great place to get water or a bite to eat. (Note – the very tame family dogs at the general store are part of the charm.) After another 4 or 5 miles we reached the climb of the day and I got into a steady climbing rhythm, finding the top of the climb bathed in sunshine. The tunnel winds along the bluff, and despite the occasional inconvenient driver, all the little curves and very short climbs and descents were accents to the character of that beautiful tree-lined road in autumn, with occasional views of the lake as a bonus. Unlike Cross Village, which is a very small community on the North End of the Tunnel, Harbor Springs is a bigger town with enormous old houses and a large Marina for weekend boaters. It is worth exploring. We turned around just before riding down into town though, and headed back north. At this point, I learned why events ride the tunnel from south to north – while just as scenic, the northward direction is more downhill, and despite enjoying the big climb on the way out, I found the return to be a little faster and easier to ride. We took a quick break at the General Store in Good Hart and had a smooth ride back to the finish. It was an outstanding ride, and I was very pleased to finally experience riding the Tunnel of Trees.

After getting back to the car in Cross Village, we gave a push start to a gentleman who was driving an old Austin Healy Sprite – while we were wearing bike shoes! People driving convertibles and other sports cars or motorcycles down the tunnel is a common sight though, and helping him out was the right thing to do. We can all do with a little good karma! Riding the Tunnel of Trees made up in some small way for the cycling times and special events that I’ve missed out on this year. Given another chance, I will certainly enjoy it again.

Outside a bicycle shop in Harbor Springs. No, that isn’t the type of bike to use when riding the Tunnel of Trees!

Motivation: Push vs. Pull

Motivation is a tricky business. Getting yourself started when there are other priorities or when doing those things isn’t an attractive or easy notion can be the hardest part of getting something done. What has helped me when I wanted to motivate myself are the concepts of “Pull” and “Push”. The concepts transfer well to many situations and define a style of leadership as well as a personal motivational tool. Push is a command. Pull is an incentive. Between the two, I prefer “pull”.  There is nothing you can do that doesn’t include a little bit of both, but the style of pull is a style with positive connotations. The more you use “pull” the less demanding you are.

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A reward for reaching your goal is both a good feeling and incentive to keep going!

In many ways, Push is easier. We are all self contained individuals and since we are all at the center of our own awareness and direct our own actions, it can be very easy to make demands of ourselves and others. That isn’t to say it’s always wrong to push. There are times when it is the only option. The mistake that so many people make is that they leap to it as their FIRST option.  Given any kind of authority, a measure of push is implied, but the drawback of push is that eventually there is resistance to push that can overwhelm you. In short, the more push you use, the more push you need to use.

Pull is a far more interesting concept. Pull is an incentive to act – a reward that feeds back on the person who is “pulled”.  This is a positive experience. It takes more planning, more trust in yourself and others, and more commitment to the goal when you use a “pull” style.  It doesn’t always work, but it does make achieving a goal different by emphasizing the reward. For pull to work, the reward has to be realistic. A goal that moves is not achievable, no matter what the incentives are.

Part of pull is creating good habits. Those include good management of time and a good attention to detail. If you have a good plan and follow it, the goal can pull you along. If you fail to keep to your plan, often the only way to get back on track is to push. Flexibility in planning and reaching a goal is important. The better the plan, the less push is required to reach your goal.

Commitment is important. Pull isn’t possible without it. Keep the goal in focus. Constant pushing can lead to avoidance, which is self defeating. If you’re constantly nagging yourself to do something, that task will take on a very negative connotation, and nobody likes to be pushed constantly or can consistently push themselves. There are times when you have to build a rest or a change into your plans. That is part of pull.

Push and pull are evident in how we interact with other people.  Everyone has a personal style that they’ve learned over their lifetime.  Part of that is the language and tone you choose when you talk to others. Good leaders pull. They share positives. They welcome input and ideas. That’s pull. Bad leaders push. They are not open to new ideas, and they lean on procedures. It’s said that people don’t leave jobs, they leave bosses.   I think much of that has to do with the overuse of push!

Sometimes you need to push, but in my opinion, the best way to move yourself forward is to employ incentives and goals and pull yourself along.  Often the good feelings you generate by achieving goals will feed back and make continuing that good behavior easier!

Slaying Dragons

Great narratives require obstacles and challenges.  We are all the heroes of our personal stories, and our lives are journeys that present us with problems and choices. I find myself thinking about choices, and the metaphor that occurs to me when I think of obstacles or goals is the dragon. As a metaphor, the dragon we picture from legend and story is  a powerful and dangerous thing. Dragons represent all kinds of things that have to be overcome as a part of the larger story that each of us are living through. Dragons are fearsome creatures. They embody raw power, and they inspire great fear. As the hero of your personal narrative, you have to overcome dragons to advance your story. When thinking about problems and goals, there are parallels to be drawn with these legendary monsters and real life problems. Metaphorical dragons can be found all around you. Choosing to confront a dragon is how a hero grows. Some dragons we must face in life, and some we choose to face, but dragons exist to challenge you. No matter what kind of dragon confronts you, there are things about dragons (and problems or challenges) that you must remember.

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Dragons should not be ignored.
It’s out there. You can feel it. It might make you nervous or tense or anxious or even fearful. You recognize that something is waiting for you. It may even be a small or trivial thing, but it is a dragon. Once you know that a dragon is lurking, you have to recognize the dragon. They have a way of growing larger and more powerful if you ignore them. They consume resources. That dragon occupies your metaphorical space. If you ignore it, fear of the dragon can cause you to freeze or stagnate. There are many problems that only grow more complicated if you ignore them, or if you delay the journey to face them. As they grow, dragons only become harder to defeat. Problems have a way of growing if you don’t face them, and challenges ignored may become harder to face and overcome if you don’t recognize their nature.

Dragons test your resolve.
You know the dragon is there, and now you have to cope with it. Dragons are fearsome things. They have great claws and teeth. They fly and they breathe fire. Will you be able to overcome the dragon? There comes a point when you must make a decision. Dragons are stubborn and malicious. Confronting a dragon is a test. It can occur on many levels, because dragons come in all sizes. Dragons are things you don’t want to face, because facing them requires focus and effort and the character to accept the task of slaying them. Dragons test your resolve. Whether small or large, that dragon is a problem that won’t go away until you face it. The decision to face the dragon is a tipping point. Resolving to face the problem and fight the dragon is important. It may be a matter of responsibility, a matter of pride, or a matter of choice. Once you resolve to fight a dragon, a journey begins. That could be an exotic journey of discovery or a well known and well worn path, but you have to commit to traveling on it.

Dragons require a plan to face.
Dragons are formidable. Once you have committed to facing the dragon, you need the strength and skill to overcome the dragon. Facing a dragon unprepared is unwise. You need tools to defeat them, your metaphorical armor, shield and sword. You must learn how to use these tools. You need to know how to approach the dragon’s lair, and you must learn the weakness of the dragon. Every dragon of legend has a weak spot. As the hero you can overcome the dragon by your strength, your skill, your planning, and your knowledge. A journey is often required to gain the strength, skill and knowledge needed to slay the dragon. Heroes must learn and grow. The price of gaining knowledge is facing the dragon at the end of the journey.

Dragons hoard treasure.
There is a reward for slaying dragons. When the dragon is slain the dragon’s treasure belongs to you. Each dragon you face, big or small, guards a treasure proportionate to its size and power. As you face ever larger and more powerful dragons, you gain confidence and experience. You become more competent. The treasures you gain may be in the form of joy, relief, satisfaction or contentment, and sometimes even material gains. The dragon’s treasure makes the quest to slay the dragon worthwhile. You can’t receive the treasure without facing the difficult task of confronting a dragon. No treasure worth having is unguarded. You need to slay the dragon to appreciate the treasure you receive. Something you get for free is far less valuable than something you had to work for and overcome a dragon to possess.

Dragons in this context are metaphors for all kinds of tasks and goals. Your life is a narrative, and you are the hero of your own tale. The meaning of your life is bound up in the obstacles you have to overcome. Great narratives require obstacles and challenges. These are the dragons we must slay.  You get to choose the dragons you challenge. Part of that requires knowing yourself. What do you really want? That is a difficult question that will identify the dragon you choose to face.

In praise of Campagnolo

It’s time to admit it. I didn’t expect it, but where cycling is concerned, I have become a big fan of Campagnolo. I don’t know exactly when it happened. It wasn’t instantly. It overcame me so slowly that I didn’t notice it coming, but there is no denying it now. Some things are so beautiful that you have to appreciate them. I have begun to appreciate and enjoy the functionality and beauty of all things Campagnolo. It isn’t uncommon for people to wear company logos. NIKE sells lots of logo merchandise, so do many other brands. Campagnolo is a relatively small and specialized  company, but I have their logo on a coffee cup and a shirt. This is a very telling sign. Maybe it’s because it’s not so common any more. Maybe it’s history. I can’t say exactly, but I’ve become a fan.

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The winged wheel with quick release badge of Campagnolo on my coffee mug.

15 years ago I came back to the Washington DC Area where I attended college, and essentially started over after a failed marriage. I needed something to keep me from depression, and I had a bicycle. I sought out an old friend who was a road rider and the rest is history.  I got a road bike. That was the beginning of this cycling obsession. For the most part, I’ve ridden Shimano equipped bicycles. They make wonderful and precise gearing systems.  Yet I’ve never felt compelled to wear a “Shimano” shirt. They’re the industry leader, but they don’t inspire the kind of loyalty that Campagnolo does. It makes no sense. Maybe it has to do with tradition. I can’t really say. All I can say is that after riding with Campagnolo for over a year, I’m a fan. Great ergonomics. It all feels right. I rode Shimano Ultegra and 105 for years, and I think they’re outstanding, but I like the Campagnolo levers better and it all works beautifully for me. I’ve had rides with  SRAM equipment, and I’m not impressed. I have friends who have had bad experiences with their equipment. I won’t use their gear while Campagnolo and Shimano both exist.  I would buy another Shimano bike without hesitation, but I have become a Campagnolo guy. Maybe I should take another sip of coffee from my Campagnolo mug and just taste the acceptance.

Waves of Encouragement

Yesterday was a good Saturday for a ride. It was going to get hot, so I got up early and I met friends for a ride out in the Agricultural Reserve west of Washington DC. The place we started from is called Riley’s Lock, which is a good location to access the back roads in the reserve and the C&O canal towpath by the Potomac river. It’s a place to see people paddling, fishing, running, trail biking and road biking.

We started early – but we were far from the first people there. It’s a popular spot, and on a good day Riley’s Lock can be a very busy place. I’m a road cyclist. I love the roads and what you can see from them. Yesterday was a banner day for wildlife. I saw an owl for the first time from a bicycle.  I also saw a bald eagle, various other birds, and a red fox. Having said that, these kinds of sights are available to anyone doing just about any kind of exercise out in the countryside, and when you make the effort to go to beautiful places to get a workout in, these things are a reward.

When out on the roads we saw lots of other riders. I’ve seen a lot more riders who look like they’re just beginning, particularly closer to towns on the route.  I’ve made a habit of waving to all the riders I see, no matter what they look like. I think of it as a kind of respect and encouragement that helps in small ways. Because of the pandemic panic, people have started looking for ways to escape their isolation. The bicycle business has exploded. That means more people are getting out on bikes for the first time. I want them to know that THERE IS NO WRONG WAY TO DO THAT. What you’re wearing or riding isn’t important. Riding is. I know that a lot of riders are inspired by the racing culture, and the difference between starting out and being experienced can be fairly large, but you can’t let snobbery decide what a cyclist is. I’m not built like a cyclist. But I am one, and nobody would dare say I’m not. It isn’t just the experience I have, or the speed I’m riding at, or the kit I wear, or the stories I can tell. It’s that I choose to get out there and turn the cranks, and nothing else is nearly so important. Therefore I want to be friendly and set a good example.

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Cycling is healthy, scenic and fun. It’s easy to forget how much we all had to learn when we started out. A little encouragement can go a long way!

 

After the ride, we sat together in camp chairs by our cars in the shade with a cooler nearby and talked. We weren’t the only ones doing that. I saw a little family drive in with their bikes for riding the trail. I thought it was wonderful. The two little girls riding with mom and dad may be forming lifelong exercise habits. I saw the smiles on everyone’s faces as they came through. It didn’t matter if they were riding old mountain bikes, road bikes, hybrids or whatever they were rolling on. They were rolling. They were out enjoying the outdoors. No matter how they choose to experience it, they should be encouraged.  Maybe in years to come those will be the people riding in the events that I love that have been cancelled this year due to the pandemic. Maybe this explosion of bike purchasing is a temporary thing, but how many people buying bikes could be catching on to a lifetime of enjoyment of the outdoors?

It helps to give the beginners some encouragement. Cheer them on. Let them know that there are no limits. With every pedal stroke those limits are pushed outward and every memorable bit of scenery, every wildlife experience, every new milestone can make that bike more special to them. I’m reminded of the finish to one of my favorite events. Riders who have finished are relaxing in the beer garden waiting for friends to join them, and riders keep coming past to the finish with huge smiles of triumph and joy. I have stood by the fence cheering and high-fiving these happy riders. The ones who have finished their first century are almost floating. You don’t need to be fast or look like a racer to feel that way. You have to get out and do it. Everyone has to start somewhere. Many who have started cycling this year as a way to get away from the boredom of home isolation will stay with it. They’ll be happier and healthier, and many will have inspiring stories. Encourage them. Cheer them on. Give them a smile and a wave. They’ve earned it by being out there on a bike. The encouragement you give may be the difference between a bike that is well loved and used, and one that serves as a garage ornament.

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Never forget to celebrate. 

Shut Down Again

I try to be patient, but it’s hard. I am sick and tired of this endless, breathless pandemic panic. Everyone I know is on edge in some way.  They’re not on edge because they fear getting sick. They are on edge because they’ve been locked away from normal life. Some are locked out of jobs and busineses. We’re all ready for some “normality” to embrace. The lack of things to look forward to infects us all with negativity day after day in hundreds of nasty little ways. Today one of the things that I’ve been looking forward to, an event that wasn’t supposed to happen until OCTOBER, was cancelled. Goodbye Seagull Century 2020. Shut down again.
Is this really the right thing to do? To close off popular events that people prepare for and look forward to? Cycling is positive. It enriches people’s lives. Is this really the way to promote healthy living? Organizers have ALWAYS demanded that participants sign waivers to acknowledge that they could have bad outcomes, and to assume the risks of doing that activity. Why is this any different? I’m sure most people would HAPPILY assume the risks of the coronavirus at events if it meant having something positive to look forward to. I’ve heard and read enough insincere apologies and worthless explanations in the last few months. Cancelling events isn’t courageous. It’s cowardly.  It’s negative. How long will people be forced to cower in place? When will the people get to decide what is good for themselves? What is there to look forward to now?

Almost nothing. Maybe it’s time to quarantine those who are actually at risk. Not the rest of us.

Thinking Like A Rider, Not A Racer

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After I’m done with work for the day, I like to get out and have a short ride while the daylight lasts. The route I take is convenient and I ride it frequently. It’s a short hilly route that goes out and back, and it gives me a good workout without taking too much time. I found myself riding hard and fast on that ride recently. Conditions that night were ideal, not too warm or cold. I was breathing easily and had good focus. Traffic was light. I didn’t set out to ride fast, but once I was warmed up, I pushed myself to the end of the ride.

I was only competing with myself, knowing that I might just log my best time for that ride this year. I love the feel of speed and control and pushing my limits and the exhaustion and exhilaration of it all. This is just part of my personality. I’m competitive.  I enjoy knowing my ride statistics – how fast and far I’m going, and comparing the ride to others using Strava. I sometimes get a feeling that my bike and I are a single unit. The feel of a beautifully tuned and responsive bike is a real joy. I think most riders come to know this feeling at one time or another.

These things are closely aligned to one of the driving forces of road cycling – racing. Racing is about excitement. It drives technological change. It inspires us to test ourselves. It’s part of the joy of what we do, and most of us have watched or followed a race such as the Tour De France, even if we have never raced ourselves.  We respect racers and racing. In our own ways, we all emulate them. While that can be a good thing, and even great fun, most of us do not race. Thinking like a racer isn’t hard to do. In some ways. it’s encouraged. I don’t think that racing is something we can or should ignore, but sometimes it pays to stop thinking like a racer, and start thinking like a RIDER. Some people even find the racing aspect of cycling culture to be discouraging. Riding doesn’t have to be guided by competitive thinking. Thinking like a rider is important in two ways, practical and technical.

Practically, thinking like a rider is a matter of looking at the larger picture. Do you have a goal? Do you want to be fitter, or maybe drop a pound or two? Do you have events you’d like to try? Are you getting all the variety and enjoyment that you can from your rides? There are times when what I really want is an easy ride and I push myself anyway, or I set out to push myself and discover that I can’t. The important point is that I’m riding. In an ideal world I would be able to ride every day. That simply isn’t practical. You have to rest. I normally take Fridays off from riding, and on those days I clean the bike instead. The secondary benefit of this is that the act of cleaning your bike reminds you to maintain it. It’s a good way to build rest into your routine.

It’s also a good idea to do this when you’re riding: look up. Don’t just ride. See things around you! Birds. Scenery. All the things you pass that you might not notice if you’re focused on performance. There are many times when I’ve been riding a lot and my legs feel heavy, and I just don’t want to ride. I have two cures for that. The first is to do something different. Put the bike in the car and go somewhere fun. Shake up the experience. The second is to get some company. It’s harder to skip a workout if someone else is counting on you. Part of the joy of cycling is the experience. While it’s okay to push yourself, that isn’t the point of riding. You can get great satisfaction out of pushing yourself, as long as you keep your perspective. My absolute favorite cartoon character is a textbook fanatic – Wile E. Coyote. He is creative and focused and I love that, but he is a fanatic, because he redoubles his efforts while losing sight of his goals. You can satisfy your hunger without catching the bird, and you can be fit without being fast.

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The other aspect is technical. Racers use the best and lightest equipment, because it could be the difference between winning and losing. What if you don’t race? Do you need the best tech? No. If you want the best and can afford it, buy it. Otherwise if you don’t race it isn’t necessary. I love bikes and bike tech. I ride a “retro-modern” bike. It’s a classic lugged steel frame with 11 speed Campagnolo components. I love the look of old style bikes and components, but in reality, I want something that I can ride every day, so I want modern convenience of shifting from the bars and a gear range to help me on difficult climbs. By racer standards, it’s too heavy. It’s all wrong. By rider standards, it’s perfect.

Technology in rider terms is the difference between “good” and “good enough”. There will always be something lighter and better out there. Tech improves every year. In my opinion, the best “rider” technology is a step or two behind the leading edge. Component groups such as Shimano 105 are excellent, give you a wide range of gearing, and are an outstanding value. I like to think that having a wide range of gearing options is wise for all riders. The best gear is the gear you can afford, but there are a lot of beautiful second hand bikes being sold because there are people who love the best bike tech more than they love to ride. As a rider, think about tech in terms of the options you need.

Cycling is a wonderful form of exercise. It can be cooperative, competitive, fun and even relaxing, Sometimes thinking like a racer can be great fun, but thinking like a rider can prevent burnout and keep your mind and body working together.

 

 

Missing small joys

Another day, another pandemic (Covid-19) shutdown story.

Eagle Harbor

A happy scene from the 2016 Patuxent Rural Legacy Ride. From left to right: Eric, myself, Rita, Ron, John and Carol.  This is a picture full of small joys!

I have events that I ride every year.  I have many fond memories of them, and I have friends to experience them with, and over the years they’ve become familiar and friendly. They represent small joys. They are goals to train for, and fun things to look forward to.  They aren’t so important in the larger scheme of things, but small things do matter. Recently I discovered that the Patuxent Rural Legacy Ride, (which I often refer to as Pax) has been cancelled. This follows the cancellation of the Six Pillars Century. These are two rides that seem to highlight every Spring for me.  They were not just a source of T-Shirts or a way to avoid boredom on a Saturday. They were waypoints in my year. It’s a wonderful thing to talk about and share memories of rides like these. Others ask about what I do, and these events are part of the tale to be told. These may not be the only events that will be cancelled, but for now, they are fresh in my memory.  At this writing, Six Pillars would have happened this weekend, and Pax in 7 weeks’ time. I can only hope that they are the only enjoyable events that will be cancelled. These cancellations, in addition to the cancellation of club rides, have left me feeling like I’m somehow behind where I should be. I have ridden fewer miles than I normally would. I’m riding well, and I’m not far behind other years in my fitness, but my motivation seems less. I will move on without them, but I wish I didn’t have to. So here are a few words about these two rides that won’t happen this year.

Six Pillars has been great for me. After a century early in the year, no other ride seems too difficult.  It is a flat ride that always seems to work out well. It remains the only century ride that I have ever ridden in 5 hours. (There will be no more attempts!) I have managed to enjoy riding Six Pillars every year because it motivates me. It stretches me out. When I finish it, I’m always exhausted, but once done I can celebrate with friends and look forward to a great year. Since this is always the first event on my calendar, it always comes with a sense of excitement. It will be missed this year.

The Patuxent Rural Legacy Ride is one of those rides that finds a way into your heart. It is a rolling Metric Century (this one is 64 miles) through the farmland of southern Maryland, and all of the rest stops are at the river side. This means you descend to the stops, and climb out again. The weather is normally comfortable, and the scenery is excellent. It’s run by the Oxon Hill Bicycle Club, and they do a wonderful job.  It’s always been a ride to revel in. I have celebrated after this ride with friends every time, and I wouldn’t want to miss it. Now I must.

In the long run, these event cancellations don’t mean much. I’m sure they will return. Like everyone else I am “sheltering in place”, yet like most of us, I’m healthy.  Thankfully I’m allowed to ride on my own. It feels wrong to be shut in like this when you’re perfectly healthy. Normally, you quarantine sick people, not healthy ones. I am lucky that my life disruptions are manageable. Still, the loss of small joys has been adding up. I can’t wait until the panic is over and small joys become accessible again.

Socially Distanced

Copper bike

A time will come when I ride and enjoy events again, but I am socially distanced, and my Wilier must be patient.

I’m in new territory.  Over the past 15 years or so, I’ve been cultivating good habits by cycling. For many that is a solitary pursuit, but for me it’s also a group activity. I have found good friends through it, and brought others into the sport, and told tales of cycling experiences that I’ll always remember.  As Spring begins I feel excited to get out and train, and cycling events are on the horizon, and everything feels new again. 2020 started strong, and I started my cycling year with high hopes.

Then the Coronavirus, Covid-19 happened. This is the first true pandemic of my lifetime. I don’t recall anything like it. Businesses are closed, people are practicing “social distancing” and there are no obvious gatherings. Thankfully I can work from home, and as of this writing I’m free of any symptoms and hope to stay that way. I’m just outside of the demographic that should be worried, but I’m also healthier than most men my age (58).  So I’m not concerned, but it has already had an effect. My first event of the year was “postponed”.  By postponed I think “cancelled” because the later in the year they hold it, the more it’s likely to conflict with other events. I ride a lot of them! So I don’t have a sense of urgency that I’ve had in years past. I still ride whenever it’s nice enough outside. I ride after work, and that comes by just wheeling my bike out my door and getting started, without a commute between office and bicycle.  There is more time to ride before sundown. I even ride hard when the mood takes me, but there isn’t any urgency about it.

There is less traffic to cope with, and I’ve begun to see more runners, riders and dog walkers out there. People are adjusting, and so am I. I have ridden with friends a few times, but not many at once. My cycling club is not holding group rides just now, and I don’t know when my first chance to ride among others at a cycling event will come. I’m slowly getting miles in. It doesn’t feel the same without group rides and the excitement of my first event coming up. Eventually there will be one, but I don’t know when, because more events may be cancelled before the pandemic eases. I miss that familiar structure that defines my spring season.

Yet the season progresses. The trees are budding and the familiar green of spring unfolds. I notice the birds and animals as they become active. It reminds me of Rudyard Kipling’s “Jungle Book”. This is the “time of new talk” where the birds and animals practice their mating songs, and life in the jungle is renewed. Yet it feels different. I have a distinct feeling of change – a difference that may go beyond the conditions forced on me by social distancing. Perhaps this forced change from the familiar is telling me to expect more changes. My life is a good one, and I don’t fear changes, but I know that they must come. I must prepare for them. Despite the melancholy that comes with changes, I have to look ahead with hope. The bike will be there for me, and we will welcome these new times as we look forward to the return of familiar gatherings.