Finding Joy Again on a Bike

Lately, I’ve turned into quite an asshole on the bike. I came to this realization several weeks ago when I heard myself yelling out loud while riding regarding something that normally wouldn’t have made me think twice (or at least, my response is one I would’ve said under my breath under normal circumstances). I don’t know if it’s Covid-quarantine related or that I’ve been riding more and therefore observing more bad behavior, or if I really am just turning into a complete turd of a human, but I’m not liking the person I’ve been over the last few months on a bike.

I should clarify a bit. I still wave at people as I go by, and ask seemingly-stranded cyclists on the side of the road if they need assistance, but I have found myself taking on a somewhat “roadie” attitude in certain situations, and I think it’s happened slowly over several months, without consciously being aware of what was taking place.

Admittedly, I have used cycling as therapy during the pandemic, even more so than I normally would. Since going under stay at home/safer at home orders in mid-March, there have been only a handful of days that I haven’t been on a bicycle. Distances have also been longer than usual because I’ve found that I need the structure of having some sort of goal to achieve when I have little actual work that needs to be completed right now. I have always thought of myself as one who really doesn’t need to be around other humans very often, but even those of us who are okay being alone (I am learning) have been affected by this longer-than-anticipated time of staying apart. Little things that used to be a routine and very normal have now disappeared from life and I think it’s affecting me more than I initially thought it was.

One weekend morning I was preparing to go for a ride. Sam had been feeling flu-ish the week prior and had self-quarantined while waiting for his corona virus test results to come back from the state. He had thought it best to not go outside of the house, just in case, and was trying to separate as much as possible even inside the house. He was out in the garage riding on his trainer when I was leaving and I sat at the opposite side of the garage on the weight bench, whining about not wanting to ride.

“Don’t go then,” he said, as he pedaled away, Zwift screen in front of him.

“I feel some sort of obligation to do mileage right now. I don’t know why. I know it’s all self-imposed, but I feel like I’ve put some sort of pressure on myself to ride pretty much every day,” I responded. “I feel like I’ve already burned out, and it’s still summer.” (It was still summer at the time anyway.)

My bike was sitting, leaning against one of the second-hand acquired workout machines in the makeshift gym in the garage. I stared at the bike as though it was the enemy, dreading going out to pedal.

I continued, “My knee hurts so bad. My neck is killing me because I spend so much time leaned over between riding and working. I just don’t feel like going.”

Sam responded, “Why don’t you take the Rivendell instead and just go for an upright cruise?”

Oddly, I had been thinking about this recently. In late winter, we’d put my rear rack back on the Hillborne and re-attached the giant basket so that I could use it for commuting to sub-teaching jobs without having to carry things on my back, but I hadn’t had any jobs that were farther than walking distance since that set up was put in place and then, of course, classes were cancelled shortly after anyway so I never got to test out the set up other than around the block.

“I could do that,” I said, “I guess I’ll give that a go — Just do a short one.”

I swapped out bikes, pumped up the tires on the Rivendell, caught a glance of myself in a reflective surface and paused for a moment. I looked ridiculous, dressed in a Specialized jersey, Velocio bibs, POC helmet, now heading out to ride a lugged, steel bicycle, with upright handlebars that is obviously set up for commuting/errand running purposes. I sighed, but didn’t want to change, so headed out the back feeling as though I looked like an absolute fool.

“Ugh. There’s no Garmin mount on this bike,” I said aloud. I had taken it off a couple of years ago, wanting to have a break from recording every ride. I started the timer anyway and threw the Garmin in the front bag. It was running, I just wouldn’t be able to see it. Maybe that was a good thing though.

I was agitated early on. I could feel that I didn’t have the power/speed on the Rivendell that I would normally have on my road bike, but I quickly nipped the attitude and reminded myself that I was out to enjoy the ride, not to beat any records. I was amazed that this year really seemed to be turning my cycling attitude into something I never expected, and certainly not something that is positive, in my opinion.

I rode. It took a few miles, but eventually my mind calmed, I didn’t feel like I was racing with anyone (including myself) and I actually looked around me, taking in the sights I see near-daily, but never take the time to truly appreciate most of the time as of late. It was eye-opening, to say the least.

I’ve always believed that riding is good for the soul, that it can heal emotional wounds and help the mind work through troublesome thoughts, but it had been quite awhile since I’d taken a ride just for pleasure, without staring down at average speed or distance. It was almost an uncomfortable position to find myself, but as I allowed myself to just be, I realized how much I miss these rides — The rides taken for no reason at all, to nowhere, with no goals in front of me other than to exist and to pedal. I smiled more, I waved more and as I settled in, I realized how much I’d missed this bike.

Although I know I probably won’t ride a ton of these sorts of rides on the Rivendell, it was an excellent reminder to me that it’s okay to slow down, to go for a short ride, to look up and see what is around. Since then, I’ve tried to allow myself at least one ride each week that is intentionally slower, that allows my mind to wander a bit more, and it’s been a welcomed relief. I don’t know if it’s necessarily improved my attitude the rest of the time, but I’m still working on that. Maybe I just need to be a little kinder to myself overall — and sometimes to others — and know that we’re all going through our own stuff, dealing with it in our own way.

Taking this ride also helped get me through my burnout phase. I was getting worried that I wouldn’t make it to the end of the year, that I’d have to give up pedaling for awhile in order to be happy riding again. In reality, I think I just needed a mental (and maybe a little bit of a physical) break from constant pushing… and getting to “rediscover” an old riding buddy was an extra bonus. I’m happy plodding along now, pushing some days and relaxing and enjoying others, which has definitely made a world of difference.