It’s a good question, this: who in their right mind would willfully hurt themselves doing something they “enjoy”? I’m guessing psychologists have a word for this type of behavior, and I’m not afraid to assume it’s not a flattering one. Indeed, we are all of us completely nuts.
When I’m not filing TPS Reports, it’s my job to help businesses not make technical problems any worse than they already are; occasionally I even help solve one or two. On the good days, I might sit behind my computer and do some actual “work”. On the bad days, I try to remember what I actually did despite being busy from the moment I set foot in the office, if not before that. No matter which of these shapes my days take, I come home feeling ready for a ride.
I generally look forward to that part of the day; to changing into my cycling kit, mulling over which cycling-specific eye wear to use and which lenses, before heading down to the basement where the bikes sleep. I like to spend a few minutes cooing over the stable while I pretend not to have already decided to take out Bike Number One; then I make my final selection and ready it for the road.
Being too fat to climb means that I am prone to snakebite punctures caused by my fat ass bouncing the back tire on the rim, so by necessity, I check my tire pressure before every ride (I’ve never had a flat on a Continental GP4000, by the way). I check my quick releases. If I didn’t clean and oil my chain after the last ride, I’ll clean and oil it. I’ll make sure everything is shifting properly. I’ll check the brakes, hang my helmet from the stem as stipulated in Rule #76, and roll my steed out into the garage where she’ll wait for me while I fill my water bottles and slip into the white ladies.
All the while, work will be knocking around in the back of my mind; be it the annoying things that happened during the day, the items I didn’t get around to, or whatever it is that will transpire tomorrow. As I roll out onto the street, I’ll be preoccupied by little things as I settle into the rhythm of the ride. Things like trying not to get hit by the idiot in a car who seems to be texting his buddies that he Hearts Huckabees. Or I’ll question the decision-making process that encouraged the girl waiting at the bus stop to buy pantaloons that are three sizes too small. Despite these worthwhile distractions, work will be knocking around in the back of my mind.
Climbing – or more precisely, the pain induced by climbing – is my favorite escape. When I’m on form, I’m encouraged by how good it feels to climb at tempo. Let me digress for a moment to point out that what a Velominatus defines as “feels good” diverges a bit from the traditional definition; by “good”, I mean to indicate that there is a tension in the legs – they hurt but feel strong – and the lungs ache as more air is taken from them than can possibly be pumped back into them, but they don’t feel like they are turning inside-out. “Feeling Good” is the only the beginning.
Then comes picking up a spade, cramming it into a mountainous heap of Rule #5, and turning it over on yourself. There is a strange freedom in the sensation you get as the pain rises through your body; it starts in the legs, and then in the lungs. Together they swell and grow into each other as the pain consumes every bit of consciousness and affects the vision – colors become simultaneously more vibrant and desaturated. The mind takes on a singular focus to keep the legs turning, blood pumping, and oxygen flowing; any thought not directly associated with keeping up the effort is pushed out. A cyclist’s pain is a singular, focused peacefulness. From a Buddhist perspective, there might be something of the shadow of Enlightenment to it, that singular Oneness of Focus. Except that pain bit. I’m not a Buddhist, but I think they might not really be into that side of things.
It’s only during those moments – when I’m suffering like sweet baby Jesus on the cross – that my work doesn’t occupy at least some portion of my mind; the singular indulgence of pain clears everything away, and when I climb off the bike – destroyed – and after I’ve finished my post-ride beer (you need carbs after a ride, you know), everything seems just a little bit clearer. By clearing away the noise, it makes all the problems in life seem a little less insurmountable.
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@Marko, @Kermitpunk
I love working outside. My dad is 65 or something like that, and he logged all the oak out of the woods on his farm with his bare hands over the last few years. I went out there a bunch of times to help with it, and there's little more cathartic than manual labor. We were pulling 200 year old oaks out of the woods in the muggy heat of Wisconsin, and I loved every minute of it.
But, I agree that the machinery, although fun, takes something away from the process. It's not unlike the Ergo shifters/downtube shifters conversations we've had numerous times; I'm nostalgic and appreciative of the Old Way, but at the same time won't ever permanently get rid of my kick-ass new tech. I use a push mower, I have a record player. I also use my power drill/driver any time I have a bunch of shit to screw to the wall because a screwdriver is a pain in the ass.
For me, though, I have no patience for inanimate objects that misbehave. Nothing will get me swearing faster than a bungee cord that manages to hook on some tiny fucking ledge when I don't want it to. Or pulling a tree out of the woods like Marko is talking about; when it gets hooked on something in some way not authorized by me, I will fucking lose it.
It's not the pain or the application of it that you mind when yanking a tree from the woods; it's the pain induced by some misbehaving object because at the end of the day, it's all about the locus of control. I think T.E. Lawrence summed it up best in Lawrence of Arabia when he said, in response to letting a match burn all the way down to his fingers, "The point is not minding that it hurts." When you have control over the pain, it is a good pain.
@frank
Wonder how far we can push you on that ...
Fuck me. The way you guys go on, I reckon it is only days before Frank posts an article about the training benefits that a good S&M dominatrix can provide (with another mention of Baxter of course).
My San Sebastian picks!
1. Gilbert - who deserves some love and a nickname from the Velominati - if he doesn't already have one?
2. LL Sanchez
3. Pippo Pozzatto
4. Cunego
5. Barredo
@Marcus
My bike is my dominatrix. That's why it's black carbon, baby. Check out those thin seatstays, they are like little whips.
@Good Geophant
Nice screen name. I'm having a hard time pronouncing it, but I love it.
@frank
My brake levers are nipple clamps. And you SO do not want to hear about my seat ...
@Marcus
Wrong article but as the VSP for Sans Sebastian Bach (would Skid Row be less lame without that fucker?) isn't up yet, I'll go too. Because you did and because I'm taking off for the weekend. You hear me Hillybilly Boy (frank)? Please put these up as my picks:
1. Barredo for the repeat
2. Navarro b/c after working his ass off for Bertie he wants some glory
3. Garate because I picked this dude for the dotty jumper and he let me down. Might as well let him do it again, right?
4. Kolobnez (not a typo, he goes by Kolobnez en espana). Want to put him first because the ground-to-air missile team is blowing shit apart like Pashtuns shooting down Russian helicopters. Maybe we should nickname that team Charlie Wilson?
5. Bertie. He won't contest but wants to show something to his countrymen.
Who really knows though? The Sans Sebastian Bach has a killer-strong field racing this year. It promises to be an excellent bike race.
Like you even have a seat! It's all post there, let me assure you...
By the by"”and back on topic"”I'm trying to remember the last pic of Jens that doesn't include plaster or bandage...
Great one frank! You da man.
I was asked that very question by a 'know nothing' lazy ass most recently. Why do you do that when it hurts and you suffer so much, for enjoyment? I actually didn't even take the time to respect the question, rather just shrugged and went on. They wouldn't have gotten it, but maybe some of my partners at work explained it to them, like 'shut up' and 'don't bother him about that'.
The masochist in us all, as cyclists indeed differentiates us from our comfortable friends and neighbors. But hey, look at them fat arse's as well, thumbing the remote and eating Lay's chips while we big ring bloody hill. They sleep, we get up early and ride hard. The comfort others enjoy is to their self-destruction in that a large segment of our society is eating itself to death and lazily floating down a comfortable river of....nothing.
I implemented perhaps a too healthy portion of Rule #5 last week (if there is such a thing), in 100* heat, 90% humidity and I decided to continue on my ride come hell or high water...Rule #5. Well, after bonking like the biggest pussy out there with salt all over my bibs, drinking like a fish but dry, on flat stretches w/a tailwind I could barely granny gear it, my legs were cramping in a constant state of tetany and when I got to my driveway I was hoping to be able to just walk up the stinking thing. Well, I recovered and hope not to do that again, but I was reminded of the sweetness of flopping on the couch, and saying to myself 'DONE!' as expected.
Masochism, self indulged pain for the simple enjoyment of not being like everyone else out there is what differentiates us from others. I personally don't want to be like them. That is 'why'.
Plus it never hurts to have the local velomahottie remark of 'the good legs' that she has never seen before, as I parked the bike today.
@Frank
My ride routine is a bit different then yours, since most of my miles are commuting miles. You can experience pain and the resulting rewards by getting back and forth to work. It's almost like cheating.
Work just becomes a comfortable place to spend between two rides - shelter, food, water and free Internet (Ha! I wish).