the tao of cycling: the lovely s-curve

Monday, May 9, 2011

the lovely s-curve

bicycling magazine, june 2011 issue, pages 18-19:
a photo of the infamous S curve in big cottonwood canyon. obviously retouched, the asphalt is bitter black, and neither a car nor pothole is in sight. it brings a grin to my face.
and gives me slightly different stats for the canyon than I'd thought:
14.7 miles
total gain of 4584 feet,
average grade of nearly 8 percent.
huh. no wonder it hurts.

they call it "one of the loveliest S-curves anywhere," and although I haven't sampled many S-curves on my bike, I absolutely love this big cottonwood curve and smile to think of it labeled "lovely." it is lovely. and even lovelier without cars nearby . . .

I've come a long way, baby, in my willingness to descend at speed, and I've trained myself to steer my mind away from "what if" thinking. I am not a speed junkie, I am not a thrill seeker or one who takes excessive risks. but there's something powerfully addictive about pushing your speed on a descent, leaning into the curve, tightening your core and trusting your symbiosis with the bike to hold you steady and safe.
when a "what if" thought sneaks in (what if I were to crash at this speed? wow, I'd be plastered all over the asphalt, what a mess, what would happen to . . .) I immediately send it away.
it does me no good.
I have to focus on the road, my belief in myself, my trust in the bike, my vigilance in scouring the road in front of me, and just, well, have faith.

life is full of trade-offs. no risk, no reward is an axiom spread throughout our society and used in situations from dating to stock investing.

tavis smiley recently said that we need more people who are willing to fail. and to fail big. to take risks, accept the inherent uncertainty, and take the resulting ups and downs.

I accept that every time I get on my bike I'm taking a risk. a calculated one, an informed one, and almost always, a tempered one. when I hit the approach to that S-curve, I do apply the brakes.
lightly. carefully. with knowledge of my own skill level and my bike's handling, the road conditions, the wind, how many cars are around.
I want the thrill, but I also want to be around to tell how much I enjoyed my descent.

I don't disagree with tavis, but I don't know that I'm willing to fail big. not with the funds I need to feed and care for my family, and not with my life.

I watch people swoop and drop down winding canyon roads, and I watch people invest and score big in new products, IPO's, fabulous new technologies and ideas and crazes. and I am content to sit in the middle land of being just daring enough to enjoy the swoop, yet safe enough to retain my pretty-darn-good life.

may you find your own version of our canyon's lovely S-curve, and enjoy the thrill. and perhaps you operate as I do: a little braking, some appropriate vigilance, and a great big grin for the swoop.

2 comments:

Holly said...: You're blog makes me think so hard. I read, and I read, and I read, and I always feel like I need to read each post again...I can't think this hard! I'm just a regular girl trying to decipher life--and your blog. Someday, I'll read, and I'll read, and I'll read, and I'll get it. Life is a constant review isn't it?; May 10, 2011 at 9:29 PM
susan said...: so writes the politically active, overly-well-informed, insightful, proactive, wise, energetic, astute one . . . whose thought patterns defy me!; May 11, 2011 at 8:59 AM

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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.