Along the lines of what Bruce Dickinson famously decreed while espousing the medical benefits of cowbell in the remedy of rare types of influenza, I put my shoes on one at a time – just like you. But after I’ve got my shoes on, I ooze fluidly harmonic articulation.
As Cyclists, we wield the mighty power of The V, yet lay victim to the nagging whispers of Doubt, from which the Anti-V draws its strength. We train our bodies, keep our machines in perfect order, and maintain a variety of kit for every type of weather, only to waver as this poison bleeds into our minds. We counter by seeking to control the uncontrollable through a strict adherence to ritual prior to and following each of our rides.
The ritual surrounding the ride is unique to each of us, and evolves over time, and perpetuates those actions which yielded better-then-usual rides. For instance, despite being right-handed, I slip into my shoes left first, and moving through a systematic process of buckling them up prior to each bike. I sit down on the front steps, pause for a moment to draw in a breath, slip out of my Adilettes, and slip into my shoes.
I start by arranging the tongue of first the left shoe, then the right. Then I secure the front velcro strap on the left before moving to do the same on the right. Once I’m satisfied that both straps are of precisely equal tension, I will move to tighten the left buckle, then the right until similarly satisfied of tension equality. Changing this process in any way, I’m convinced, would yield utter chaos.
Ritual goes far beyond how we put our shoes on; it reaches into the maintenance of our machines as well as their preparation for a ride as well as preparation of bidons and our kit. Bits of my ritual change based on whether I am riding from home or some other location, whether the ride is a big one or just a daily jaunt, or whether it is a formal event for which I have prepared carefully. Other things, however, remain fixed.
I always inflate the rear tire first, never the front. I’ll pull on the front and rear brakes to make sure the cables didn’t fall out overnight, and run through all the gears – listening for silence – even though I’ll have tuned it after arriving home last time if any tuning was required. When I pull on my kit, bibs go on first, socks second, under-vest third. Only at this point do I consider other elements such as whether I’m wearing arm and/or knee warmers, or which jersey to put on. Lastly, I’ll carefully inspect my toolkit prior to tucking it into my middle rear pocket.
I suppose that at the center of this lies a simple belief: in a world wherein much lies out of my control, I represent but a simple cell of a larger organism. I cannot say what influence these actions have, but if the past is any indication of the future, these actions have helped keep me happily pedaling my bike. To stop would be to tempt Fate itself.
Therefor, I wrap myself in ritual to control the uncontrollable. Vive la Vie Velominatus.
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Thinking more about it, I suppose I can't say that I have a definitive process or ritual because there are simply some times when things change (the addition of warmers or shoecovers that changes the order that items are put on, or the need to carry additional items in one's pockets that forces a non-standard configuration). The items that never change for me, however, are as follows:
1. Shoes are always put on and velcro fully done up one at a time - left then right (I may have to try Frank's method however)
2. Gloves are always placed under lower back of jersey/jacket until after tires are inflated.
3. Eyewear is always placed in helmet vents or atop cap visor (if no helmet is being worn) until just before rollout.
4. Upon filling, one bottle is always locked (usually the mixture), one is left open - the locked bottle goes in the seatube cage.
5. Tires are always inflated front first, then rear.
@Winelli double plus numero UNO!
That's it in the proverbial nut shell and I hate it when it seems like I am contradicting Frank because he and I are at the polar opposites of the pre ride ritual... And I like to think that we are both right it's just who gets across the line first?
@frank
Call it enfored randomness thrown into the equation. Some part of the load in the pockets changes from ride to ride. I will admit that it can get a little frustrating when reaching for a gel or something to eat while rolling...
@roger Hey man, as to your where question my wife is from Bettendorf and I did grad school at Palmer College in Davenport, it is a chiropractic school ( thusly I'm a chiropractor). Do you have a Iowa connection?
@zeitzmar I know Grinnell, it is a great school! You can do low end speedplays for around 125 usd, and if you want them it may be worth saving the extra change up, but your bike looks great and will be fun no matter!
@Franklin Hi! The things we do for love! I've never done RAGBRAI, but it should be fun I mean it sounds like a ton of riding and a ton of beer, and that sounds like potential to me!
@frank
@frank: (graham shakes head, takes a swig of scotch, single tear) Darn it, Frank!
Like Frank, I always don my left shoe first. It's more than a ritual - it's a matter of survival.
It started innocently enough. I noticed I had this tendency to put on the left shoe first, left pant leg, left glove...never the right. Then, one day, me and a couple of friends drove up to Squamish to do some rock climbing, and because of nerves or fate, I put on the right climbing shoe first. Noticed it. Said to myself, well, what difference could it make? and as you might expect, the climbing went well.
So, we finish climbing, and we're driving back down the highway, leaving North Vancouver on Highway 1 down a long steep hill called 'the Cut' when I spot what looks like a dirty tennis ball rolling beside the concrete barrier to our left. We, and it, are doing ~100 km/h. The ball catches an edge in the barrier and flies under the car in front of us and I hear it clunk a clunk a clunk bashing around under the car. It then shoots under OUR car with similar loud clunking noises, at which point I realize it's actually a rock. CLUNKA CLUNKA CLUNKA zing! it flies out from under the front of the car, skitters along for another second or two, and then abruptly shoots up into the air, like easily 5 metres up, and begins a lazy descent for the windshield. Our driver Teresa yells AAAAAAAAAAAHHHH and hammers the brakes, causing me to expect a devastating rear end impact and subsequent multi vehicle immolation and carnage and funereal proceedings for my next of kin.
But no. The rock smashes through the plastic grill just in front of the windshield wipers, plastic fragments clatter away harmlessly, no one rear end us, and we drive back to my place only mentally scarred. The rock was just sitting there inside the grill, powerless, so I extricated it and I still have it in a box somewhere, duct taped shut so it can never threaten human life again.
I do realize that the order in which I put on shoes cannot influence worldly events, particularly bizarre ones, yet I am forced to persist in acting as if it might, because once, it seemed to. And that's good enough for me. This ritual/superstition/nonsense makes shoe shopping a trifle embarrassing, because shoe salesman always bring out the right shoe. 'Um...yeah...can I try on the LEFT shoe, please?'
It's not 'OCD'. It's 'CDO'. The letters must be arranged alphabetically.
@starclimber
Good story...
The right foot is usually larger, apparently, which is why they bring the right shoe first. Or so I was told when I worked part-time at Florsheim.
Best thread ever.
@graham d.m. You should definitely ride RAGBRAI! It's a lot of fun, and you meet some really amazing people along the way. I did a day and a half with a friend and we joined a larger group and strangers welcomed us into their homes when it started storming in Marshalltown. 75 m.p.h. winds, and we packed up our tents just in time.