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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After my ride on Sunday (a 4 hour long constant stream of suffering) I actually began to philosophize - velosophize, even - about the clearing effect that immense suffering has on the mind. Suffering realizes a singular objective in our minds: to stop the suffering. Something so simple, yet while suffering it means everything and consumes every corner of our minds.
From there, we are presented with two choices:
1) Stop
2) Rule 5 and Suffer Faster
For many, option 1 makes the most sense, and that is what they choose. We, however, have only option 2, because option 1 is inexcusable. And so we continue to suffer, we continue to churn each pedal over until we reach a brief respite to prepare ourselves for the next session of suffering.
It is as if each successive bout with our own determination hammers away the rest of the clutter in our minds until there is nothing left but pain, and then calm.
Take away all of our velosophical musings, and we are left with a fairly basic psychological concept called flow: A state of single-minded immersion.
You can read more about it here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Flow_(psychology)
It is rather interesting, however, that you bring up Buddhism. In Buddhism, a central tenet, the First of the Four Noble Truths, is that life is suffering.
The teachings further go on to say that once we accept life as it is (suffering), then it ceases to be suffering and just "is." In effect, Rule 5 is essentially a singular manifestation of the Four Noble Truths.
It's quite possible that cycling has become somewhat of a religious experience and a psychological trial for some of us.
In fact, when I get back to school I might have to set up a trainer in the lab and hook my noggin up to one of our fancy machines and see the kind of waves that pop up.
You should try surfing. Same result, quite the opposite way of achieving it. Though paddling out is quite like climbing. Only with your arms.
@Omar
Great post. For me, when I do my climbs on Mt. Tam, I enter into a meditative state. The mind stills. The tidal breath flows in and out, sometimes gently, at other times pounding the shore . The purifying burning fire in the legs also ebbs and flows, fed by the oxygen I gasp and grasp for. It's at these times that we all enter a state of Velomingnosis. We go beyond The Rules, the separtion of "self" and "bike," "legs" and the "pedal stroke," -- all separation and duality cease. There are many reasons people ride their bikes. I think losing one's self, one's daily life in this state of Velomingnosis, is one of the better ones! It's a way of staying sane in an unhinged world.
It also makes us stronger. I think, for me, it invigorates the spirit that gets beaten down from the desk job, the commute, the bills, the problems. It's one of the few - if only times - we as Men (and Velomihotties, of course), and can really get in touch with a "warrior energy" and engage our spirit through our bodies to conquer ourselves. That's the beauty of a suffering climb. God forbid if I ever had to live anywhere flat!
The obvious answer to your question is, YES!!
I remember back in 2003, IMAX was following Tyler Hamilton to study the effects of pain on the mind. I think one of the saddest casualties of the Hamilton doping affair was that it caused this movie to never be made.
@Teller
We tried surfing in Biarritz one year. I spent the afternoon scraping sand off the sea bottom with my lower jaw. Sure, it's a bit of Rule 5 in it's own way, but really, when you look over and a 2 year old baby in life-preserver diapers is out-surfing you, it looses some of it's romanticism.
@KitCarson
Well said, mate! I used to live somewhere kind of flat, but I always sought out climbs, despite not being a of the Grimpeur physique. It's always appealed that way. That primal side of things. The longer the climb, the more primal, the better.
You don't really know yourself until you descend into the Pain Cave and drop the flash light.
Two new words, Velosophize and Velomingnosis! Today is a good day!
It's weird how it works for me. I went out for a short spin this morning and since I didn't have a lot of time I tried to hammer it. Painful bliss for 50k or so. Since then I've been felling trees and clearing brush. Equally painful but the bliss has been removed. I like cutting shit down with my chainsaw and working hard in the woods but the difference is I find myself cursing at the logs as I haul them out. When exerting max effort on my bike I don't swear. I smile and grunt. Go figure.
@frank. I take it Biarritz doesn't look like this:
I've tried surfing on surfboards a few times. Once as a teen in Waikiki. This old Hawaiian dude came gliding past me elegantly on this long board as I came to the surface gasping for air and coughing up sand and all he said was "Look out Houlie!"
@Marko
There's an interesting technology angle here, though: I love chopping wood with an axe. The noise of a chainsaw removes that pleasure. So, too: I have a push mower, and I use a real screwdriver instead of a drill, and saw (with no motor). I guess it comes down to what the work is and how much time we can afford to it (he says from the office, staring at a computer screen).
Great post, Frank. I've been letting it sink in, waiting to jump into the fray.
Damn! Forgot to change my handle at work. No more kermits or canaries, because it kinda ticks Frank off (I seem to recall thinking it was your idea).
@Steampunk
So hard to detect sarcasm and facetiousness electronically...I love you no matter which way you come.