The task spreads out before me like molasses poured onto a tabletop, indulging in its viscous immensity. Its growing breadth makes it a kind of enigma, the sort distinguished by an elusive end and therefor an intangible beginning. It occurs to me, at this moment, that the difference between those who achieve and those who stagnate is not measured by their greatness, but by their courage to begin. There is a boldness in embarking on that to which the end is unknown, to trust in your ability to navigate a path along which the way can be felt more than it can be seen.
In life, our path is fractured by the paths of those in our social and professional proximity. In training, we are simply a product of our discipline and will. In a world full of change and flux, training stands out as a beautifully simple thing. Time in the saddle goes in one end, and progress comes out the other. The magnitude of the change we see as a result is directly proportional to our commitment to a goal; there is nowhere to to seek answers to our failures but inside ourselves.
The most sacred act in Cycling is, for me, the day-long solo training ride, especially in Winter. On these days of 200 or more kilometers, I rise with the sun still lingering behind the Cascades to the East. There is a chill in the air even inside the house as I shake off sleep and prepare for a ride book-ended by the twin fires of sunrise and sunset. I wait patiently for the streets to be lit well enough to allow my safe passage; perhaps I’ll have another espresso while I wait for the sun to laze above the horizon.
Setting out, my heart will be heavy with dread knowing the ribbon of kilometers, hills and climbs that lies ahead. In Winter, the effect is heightened by the gray clouds in the sky and the knowledge that rain and possibly snow will accompany me. Before I even begin, my mind casts ahead to the warm shower and hearty meal which will greet me at the end of this long day. Yet, the only way to arrive is by loading the pedals at the outset and getting to the business of turning them endlessly until I return to the house.
My usual long training route consists of chaining together my daily training loops. While familiarity with the route serves to comfort me, the conclusion of each loop carries me by my home – each time I find myself tempted to escape into the warm confines where my family, a shower, and a meal awaits. Yet, with each passing of the house, my resolve is energized, I continue. I continue with only the thoughts in my head, my discipline, and the cold and wet to keep me company. When I finally return home, my spirits fill with a sense of accomplishment.
These rides help me find form, certainly, but they serve a more fundamental purpose that echoes in my personal and professional life. They serve to remind that a large task is an aggregate of smaller, more simple tasks and that we need only the courage to begin. Just as a long ride is accomplished by the simple act of turning the pedals, we achieve our goals in life by starting today to incrementally move towards them.
I am reminded through the solitude of the ride that simply beginning is the most critical element to finishing; fail to do that, and you will never have the opportunity to finish. Vive la Vie Velominatus.
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Great sentiment. I love long solo rides more than anything, and the cold grey of winter somehow makes them more quiet, more alone.
Great one, Frank! "They serve to remind that a large task is an aggregate of smaller, more simple tasks and that we need only the courage to begin. Just as a long ride is accomplished by the simple act of turning the pedals, we achieve our goals in life by starting today to incrementally move towards them." Hey, where were you a few years ago? I completely stagnated on my dissertation work once I finished all my courses and comprehensive exams. I saw it as some huge monolith and I had no idea how to begin chipping away. Now that I've broken it up I'm making progress. Where were you two years ago?! Actually, I didn't totally stagnate but rode like mad to at least feel like I was doing something. Great for the Guns, not great for getting Done.
I went out for my first long road ride in weeks on Saturday. It was great. My form was horrible. Not enough riding, bum knee, bum ankle. I hit the wall in the final 15k and while I was pretty pissed at letting my form slip so much, it has slipped because I've been finally working diligently. And I have at least two injuries. And then I told myself to relax and just enjoy being in the saddle and remember that pain and suffering means I'm snapping back into form.
On another note, I just remembered that Friday night I had a long, detailed dream about...the Velominati. I was attending a group meeting and we were all waiting for the Big Dutch Monkey to arrive. I was trying to piece together people in the room from their usernames and various photos posted in different threads. It was very vivid, one of those that I recalled a few hours after rising and it seemed like I was recalling a meeting that had actually happened, not simply a dream. Bonkers. Now I'm dreaming about you folks!
This I know to be true for I have felt the sting of regret for not beginning.
On the topic of clothing - I was in V-jersey and bibs on Saturday, around 25*C. I saw people in gilets, winter gloves, knee warmers, jackets and even tights. Southerners need to be forced to spend a few winters somewhere cold or be forced to give me their 53 cm road bikes.
Merino base layer on the holiday self-gift list but in the mean time I have some Craft LS long zipper, high neck base layers. Really nice and paired with a LS jersey good down to freezing. My feet and hands are really what suffer in the cold, but that just comes with the season, no special circulation issues. I have tights but think I'll sacrifice them this year as a) they suck. b) I don't need them in this climate c) bought a house so looks like I'll be here for a bit. Bibs with De Feet Kneekers are a solid pairing for cool & cold weather for me.
"The whole is greater than the sum of the parts"
Bravo Frank, I have often said getting out the door is the hardest part. This gestalt style view of yours can be applied to things in life other than riding the bike.
@Ron
Hold on, 25 Celsius ? Twenty Five Degrees Above Freezing ? Jockinese can only dream of such warmth.
As a father of three, the long rides of solitude are eagerly anticipated no matter how difficult the ride! To chime in on the layers issue, big fan of using knickers (or bibs) and embro rather than tights - takes the edge off till I get warm.
Thanks for this, Frank. I'm in the middle of one of those long-term, dauntingly huge projects right now (explaining my relative absence from the site lately). This really resonates. Chapeau.
strath - yes, Saturday, Sunday and today have all been around 25*C & sunny. It's crazy since I'm used to much colder weather in November. I guess I'd complain, but well, I can't.
I've also been doing more solo riding for a variety of reasons. The large groups I used to ride with on Thursdays and Saturdays are too full of odd balls and people who just don't ride for the reasons I ride. Number crunchers, fitness freaks, etc. No fun, so long! Saturday rides I've found are either too slow or have too many racer nuts. See ya!
And the dudes I used to do smaller group rides with, well, after awhile of wondering why many of them acted so strangely I've come to realize...they're strange! Now, as a confirmed weirdo I'm all for unusual folks, but there is just something off and it makes rides very little fun. I spend more time analyzing why some dude doesn't say a single word to me in three hours than I do enjoying the ride. See ya!
In the beginning I liked testing myself, learning to ride in a line, et cetera. Now that I'm a smooth operator, well, I'd prefer to leave the data dorks and strange dudes alone and maximize Awesomeness when I'm riding.
Oh, and my recent move has put me in a location where the best way to get to the country roads is riding a cinder path. Ha, so every road ride can begin with a Strada Bianchi secteur. It's a fine way to start & finish a road ride!
Yes, the solitude of the long solo ride. Strangely, a different kind of solitude can be experienced with a faithful riding partner. My brother and I are almost equally matched in form. On long rides, we share the wind, silently trading places when it feels right. A day of hard riding--few word are spoken. Solitude.