the tao of cycling: sitting one out

Tuesday, December 2, 2008

sitting one out

I saw a few people on bikes this afternoon and I wasn't the least bit jealous.
usually I have a little twinge, a prick, some form of a squeeze of my heart.
but not today.
today was a day off the bike, and it was good.
I've had days like this before, when I think I would be just fine if I never rode my bike again. they always surprise me, and I get swept up with the feeling of enough. the same feeling I get after I eat about a pound of chocolate bridge mix: enough. no more. ever. how did I get to this point?
and then somehow, the next day, the bike starts looking good again, and so does the chocolate. satiation doesn't last long for me.
but while I'm in it, the feelings are amazingly intense. biking is hard, I'm tired, I ache, oh, how nice not to have to pump up those hills today. I glory in the spaciousness of my day, all that extra time. I revel in the laziness, in the fact that I haven't coated myself with sweat and dirt nor (this time of year) cloaked myself in cold. and I can't imagine that I ever want to put myself through the process of going for a bike ride ever again.
because it is a process:

scheduling the ride: when can I best fit this in my day, when will it be warmest and does that dovetail in with my work/kid schedule? if not, do I need to tweak something? I need a good 90 minutes, and then at least 20 minutes to shower and be presentable if I have to be seen by anyone other than my kids or those who love me tremendously.

making sure the bike is ready: proper air pressure in tires, lubed chain, semi-clean, no funky noises, full water bottles(s), spare tube necessities in pack, money.

making sure I am ready: weather-appropriate gear on (you know what a guessing game that can be), sunglasses, helmet, shoes, heart monitor, cell phone in a pocket, a treat if I'm going on an extra long or extra challenging ride, extra gear for the downhill stashed somewhere on me or on the bike.

I don't miss this process when I take a day off.
and I often don't even miss the thrill, the freedom, the joy, the peace.

some days it's okay to step out of line and sit one out.

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the Male Ego

The other day I was coming down a canyon in my drop bars (two years ago I would have said, 'what's a drop bar?'), working hard, when I came up on two guys who were also heading downhill but at a more leisurely pace. I passed them, said hello as I did so, and pulled back into the bike lane. a few minutes later they went flying past me, faces looking dead ahead, not a single bit of acknowledgment that I even existed on this planet let alone was involved in and enjoying the same sport they were.
I have to attribute this to the male ego. what else can it be? now I know we all have egos, myself included. and mine even shows its ridiculous little head once in a while, or perhaps more often. but the difference between mine and say, those of certain men on bicycles, is that I KNOW mine exists and I can LAUGH at mine. I know my ego was quite excited to pass those guys, and I could also smile because I knew if the men had really been working like I was, they would have kicked my butt down the hill.
I think I pissed them off.
and I'm sure I will be sharing with you much more of my thoughts about the male ego . . .

a little history

I was married, and I had a mountain bike which I rarely rode. we separated, I moved out, and four months later someone stole my bike. the next spring, 2005, I bought myself a new mountain bike. I rode occasionally, and in april 2006 I rode in my first century, the Cactus Hugger in St. George, Utah. I made it 54 miles on that mountain bike, and it took me about 6 hours. I think that included the rest stops where I prayed that someone would steal my bike again . . .
in june 2006 I started riding my mountain bike five mornings a week, a 45-55 minute loop that was intended to be all about exercise. and what I found was that I loved the quiet, peaceful morning full of bird chatter and barely breaking sunrises. by that fall I was hooked, and began considering the purchase of a road bike. I rode up emigration canyon for the first time that Labor Day of 2006, panting and plowing along on my trusty (heavy) bike, and a month later I was the proud owner of my own road bike: I had become a two-bike girl!
a 17-week-long "power camp" over the winter and a handful of new friends kept bicycling front and center in my life, and when spring of 2007 rolled around I was ready to hit the pavement. I rode my first century the end of april, when I again went to St. George and completed that Cactus Hugger. it took me about 7 hours, but this time I rode the entire 100 miles with about 9300 feet of vertical gain. woo hoo!
I started riding canyons around our area, emigration and millcreek, city creek, big cottonwood, little mountain and big mountain, and once--yes, only once--little cottonwood.
then in september of 2007, I rode from Logan, Utah, to Jackson, Wyoming, in the slightly infamous LOTOJA race. I rode, I did not race. and I completed the thing, crediting my good training buddies, the incredibly perfect weather, my support team, and an amazing convergence of all things positive in the universe.
I put in about 3500 miles last season, and as of today, july 19, 2008, I have about 1700 in, adding to it every day.
I have again signed on to ride the LOTOJA race, and my goal is to have just somewhere near as great a ride as I did last year. oh, and to have someone fun to talk with along the way as I got incredibly bored last year . . . star valley is still a nightmare scene in my biking memories . . .
and here is a picture of the machine that has helped me reclaim my life.