I’ve gotten back into cycling lately. And I’ve been loving it.
It’s inspired, in part, by the fact that my running days may be over (thanks to hip trouble, and hip surgery, which didn’t work as well as we’d hoped), and people keep telling me that cycling would be a good, hip-friendly alternative.
So I’ve been pedaling away on my bike hooked up to a stationary trainer in the home (several times a week), and then hitting the roads-and-trails on Saturdays. Gratifying to feel the mid-week pedaling paying off when I go for real rides.
We’ve had that trainer for years, and I’ve had this bike for more years, and I’ve used them both in the past. But lately it’s become a bigger, and more regular, part of life. (Did I mention that I’ve been loving it?)
Some thoughts on cycling…
(1) In a fight between a bike and a car, the car wins. Don’t be dumb. Don’t die. Seriously. Make good choices. Don’t take risks. It’s just not worth it. You’re a husband and a father. Don’t die.
(Although as soon as I say that, I have to admit, I have found, there’s something about the way the desire for convenience takes over in a moment of decision—at, say, a road crossing, or in a split second when you might change lines—that leads you to take those silly risks. How many times have I muttered to myself after a close call, “Yeah, that was dumb”? But I still do it next time anyway. Sigh.)
(2) The more experienced you become with a bike, and more comfortable with it, the more it begins to feel like an extension of your body as you ride. It’s that way with a lot of things, isn’t it? I’ve certainly experienced that with guitar playing. At first this thing in your hands feels like just that—a thing that’s separate from you, and unknown to you, and awkward to you. But over time you don’t just get better at playing the guitar, it begins to feel more a part of you. The sensation is more natural, your movements more intuitive. (Kind of like—dare I say it?—the way lovemaking becomes more natural and intuitive over the course of a good, loving marriage. Perhaps that’s a topic for another blog post!)
Anyway, I’ve found that cycling is taking on that character lately. The bike feels less like this separate, unfamiliar, awkward thing, and more like an extension of my body, my hands and feet and torso and…glutes. And that makes the whole experience so much more comfortable, and satisfying. It also feels safer, by the way (especially when I’m moving at a good pace on the road), because there’s a sense that I can react better with the bike in a sudden moment if I have to. So that, you know, I don’t die. (See point #1.)
(3) One of the things I came to enjoy about running all those years ago (and believe me, I was as surprised as anyone that I did come to love running; never could have predicted that) was that, as I got to the point that I was able to go for longer runs (3 miles became 5, then 8, then 10, then half-marathons), I enjoyed the sense of adventure that running gave me. When you lace up your shoes and set out to do, say, ten miles instead of three, there’s a sense of adventure: you’re going to be out for a good long while, listening to more music, seeing more roads and houses and cars and people, experiencing your own body’s ups and downs, what it can and can’t handle, perhaps even enduring changes in the weather as you go. That, more than anything, is what I miss now that I can’t run like that.
But it hit me the other day, happily, that going for these bike rides is perhaps filling that gap, and that because of the road component of the rides I’ve been doing. Don’t get me wrong: I do enjoy the simple, safe, straightforward trail miles, but having to get to the trail from my house by riding a good seven miles on local roads has created that sense of adventure again. Sometimes I think, Just drive to the trail parking lot and set out from there, so that all your riding is trail riding. But now I’m thinking, No, leave from home, force yourself to hit the road. Not only does it save some time on a busy Saturday, but the sense of odyssey is better too.