I could quit riding any time I want to…

IMG_7467wolh_panoOnce in a while, climbing Old LaHonda at the start of a Sunday ride, or Kings on any given Tuesday or Thursday morning, and I’m not quite feeling it, yes, I wonder, why am I doing this? Why am I struggling up this hill, why isn’t it fun yet? That feeling can persist for a while, sometimes half the climb, until I first get to that point of no return (half-way there, can’t turn back now!) and it becomes habit. Something you’re used to doing, one foot follows the other, keep at it and you’ll get there. It might not be pretty but you’ll get there. 10 miles down, 47 to go. Sounds awful when you put it that way, and feels not-so-great thinking it.

Not everyone wants to ride up the hill; you can see the guy on the right using a transporter beam.
Not everyone wants to ride up the hill; you can see the guy on the right using a transporter beam.

And then, you get to… the top. You don’t pause to think about it, you just go down the other side, through the upper forest on West Old LaHonda, past that incredible view of the coast, and everything changes, your mindset shifts, you’re on your way. You look forward to the detour past the LaHonda duck pond, wondering if the turtles will be out (they were), and by the time you hit Haskins, that nasty hill between where you are and where you’ll be, you’re thinking about stretching your legs and seeing how fast you can go in a pleasant way.

On to Pescadero, mild headwinds, not bad, decent speed on a pleasant road shared with a very small number of cars and motorcycles plus a few cyclists in the other direction. Stopping for a drink and pastry at the Pescadero Bakery and I’m a completely-different person than the guy struggling up Old LaHonda just over an hour ago.

And that’s when it hits you, that’s when you realize cycling is a drug, a drug that offers the hangover first and the extraordinary high later. So no, I couldn’t quit, not today, not tomorrow, not as long as I’m able to get past the early-ride blues, not as long as my brain remembers and reminds my legs and lungs how awesome it’s going to be in just 30 minutes or so.

It’s also cool to come across other cyclists that know me through my writings, like Marty from Modesto, whom I came across at the base of the second climb on Stage Road. I slowed my pace for a bit and rode with him; he thought he was holding me up and said to keep on going, and I’m thinking… why? Killing myself on each climb is just one way to ride, and if I’ve got a good excuse to ease off a bit and enjoy good company, why wouldn’t I? Later in the ride, descending Kings, I flew past someone I thought I recognized, on a bike we sold. And I’m thinking… why? Why fly past? So I slowed down and waited at the wide clearing and we rode the rest of the way down together, and I got to show her the alternate route through the park.

There’s a lot more to cycling that just data on Strava. It’s the people you meet and the magnificence of getting places under your own power.

I could no more quit riding than you could pry that rifle out of Charlton Heston’s cold dead hands.






2 thoughts on “I could quit riding any time I want to…

  1. What a great approach to riding… I usually ride by myself and I know the feeling early in a ride of “why am I out here”, particularly since I always leave early in the morning so I think “why did I wake up for this?!?”. Particularly when it’s wet on the way to the coast. But there’s always a point where things click into place and I always feel better at the end of the ride than at the beginning, and that’s why we ride, right?

    Pretty cool that you slowed down to talk to people this weekend. With bike computers and strava (and frankly, even before both) I always try to do my best and get the best times on various segments… but as you say, why?

    1. Don’t give me too much credt; if I’m really going for it, especially if out on a ride with others, there’s not much chance I’ll interrupt a potentially-good Strava time to chat with someone on a climb. But if out on my own, and it’s not likely I’m going to get a PR (and that’s pretty-not-likely), it doesn’t make sense to ride every mile of every ride as if you are. But yes, I’m often a slave to my Garmin & Strava & Stages Power Meter! Hope I didn’t just undo everything I wrote. Also hope that I still feel the same way after watching my son gunned down by a car descending 84 earlier today! Actually, I do. The world, not just me, comes alive when I’m on my bike. The risks are manageable, and safer, I think, than a sedentary lifestyle spent watching too much TV. –Mike–

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