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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As an occasional photographer, it's difficult for me to look at a picture of someone and think of solitude.
Who took the picture? Right?!
Nice piece. Another feature of this solitude is"”as you mention"”the season. The long ride at the onset of winter is not for training. It is not for the guns. It is for the soul...
@Steampunk +1!
Breathing in that cold Fall air, all on your lonesome is pure joy - and straight unadultered Hardman!
@G'rilla
I'd like to think frank takes a camera and tripod with him, sets it up, triggers a delayed-shutter, rides up the road, gets the photo, then goes BACK and collects the camera and tripod. Makes sense...
@mcsqueak and then stuffs it all into his jersey pockets so as not to encumber the lines of the bike with eye distracting protruberances. Obviously this is the way it is. Or perhaps a passing journo takes the picture to capture the awesomeness of an unknown cyclist wearing the V-kit...
Having been in the presence of V-kit this morning (not mine) I can only say it induces a quiet feeling of awe - much like the Sistine Chapel
@mcsqueak & @Giles: Lezyne makes a beautiful tripod. Light, compact, and aesthetical-like.
@scaler911
Oh mister big shot, eh? "Oh, look at me, I have so many friends, training partners, and groupies, I just love having a few minutes to myself. For my wrist exercises."
Its really just that old chestnut from Fignon that sometimes, you just have to go out and make an appointment with the Man with the Hammer. Those appointments are best taken alone.
@Ron
Even those with many a cold winter behind us acclimate eventually. While there is a certain nostalgia in the feel of the first crisp morning, which thankfully happens here in December most years, the dry, windy cold is more difficult to stave off when the previous nine months have been filled with days at 35*C.
I have to say that I'm no stranger to dressing in a way that sometimes makes my brethren from the great white sometimes frozen or occasionally slushy North guffaw. But having lived in and loved many climates, one lesson stays with me: once (frost)bitten, twice shy.
@mcsqueak
Yes yes yes. Dress to be cold for the first 15 minutes, though you need to make sure you also don't under-dress, especially for joints that will be carrying load, like your knees. I'll err on the side of caution when it comes to those puppies.
@Ron
Rule 21, baby.
@Nate
Wool is amazing; I have three different DeFeet base layers - one with short sleeves, the rest are tanks. The right base layer can eliminate an outer layer, while no base or the wrong one can keep you chilly even when you over-layer on top.
Wool is just an incredible material for that function. And for knee and arm warmers.