I’m often told I romanticize Cycling’s past, that the days gone by weren’t quite as rosy as I make them out to be. There is some truth to this, certainly, but the assertion isn’t entirely accurate in the sense that I romanticize everything about Cycling.
Because events are seasoned by our thoughts and individual experience, we necessarily cannot see them for what they truly were. The thoughts that pass through our mind when looking at an old or new photograph, a race, or when we go for a ride influences the way it is remembered and the significance it holds.
Our minds are very good at forgetting pain and remembering pleasure; it isn’t very long after an experience that negative associations begin to fade and positive ones to amplify. This psychological mechanism is the gateway to romanticization. Certainly, I remember that climbing Haleakala last January was a horrible experience, but I’ve managed to forget what that means precisely. On the other hand, the memory of accomplishing a task that turned out to be much harder than I had anticipated lingers strongly; I find myself drawn back to the mountain for the chance to experience once more the purity that touches us briefly when we persevere despite total exhaustion.
Romanticizing encourages us to study the past, to appreciate how things were, and provides the opportunity to learn from the mistakes others have made. It reminds us that things were not always as they are today and that those things we wish were different may be so tomorrow. It helps us forget that many long hours of suffering are balanced only by brief moments of exhilaration. It helps us to dream, to imagine what could be.
Do the great races of the past seem more glorious than they were? Perhaps. Does the sunlight’s glint off a chromed chainstay blind me to the weight of the bicycle and the extra burden it places on its rider? Certainly. Does the memory of reaching down to flick a downtube shifter eclipse the inconvenience of sitting down to shift, and removing a hand from the bars? Absolutely. But they also form the fabric of what keeps me returning to the bicycle.
Vive la Vie Velominatus.
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Very well said Frank. Sedentary, non-competitive people will never be able to experience and love the pleasure/pain cycles we get to experience in cycling. The more it sucks while you do it, the better the memory of the accomplishment! Kind of reminds me of last years Off-Road Assault on Mt. Mitchell... A true suck-fest, but I'll be back for more in 2012!
@sthilzy
Wow! Awesome read. Jens is just the epitome of class. Thanks for sharing!!!
I have 2 things to say about Romanticisation;
1. I had the great fortune last week to have 5 days in the Victorian high country simply riding my bikes up some very big hills.
As some of you may know, I've recently come into posession of a fairly slick Carbon bike (my first CF) with some nice new SRAM bits that make it, well, lovely to me anyway.
The climbing is all very satisfying of course, although the best part of it all is the descent. On the biggest descent of 28km, there is a very fast section that is about 11km long with plenty of amazing corners. As I was coming down this section at an average speed of more than 50km/hr, my senses were fully engaged with the task at hand; down in the drops, spotting the apex, calculating the braking marker to ensure that maximum momentum was being carried through the corner without overshooting the edge of the road, outside pedal down, outside ankle dropped, shoulders square over the bars, pushing them down across my chest to lean the bike over, forcing the contact patch of the tires to bite more firmly, then and hammering out of the corner to set up for the next one.
The funniest thing though was the number of times I found myself reaching for the right hand down tube shifter after the apex to slam it forward...
2. This;
@mouse
It's funny that 'ghost' of a right down tube shifter!
I goes the other way and catch myself reaching down to shift up starting a climb - without looking down of course!
I try and live in the now, while keeping the notion of being a romantic on the side. I realised the magnitude of Cancellara's 50km solo break at the time. I knew we would talk about it for years to come, and tried to enjoy it as such. When you experience such a thing, you will know - it gives you goosebumps.
The romantic notion is valid when you think about music now, compared to 20 years ago. In 20 years time, radio stations will not play classic britney spears and classic nickelback, as they do bowie, zeppelin and creedence alike. These people are here for a minute, our heroes are here for a lifetime.
In a mountain race (Alpenbrevet) a few years back I recall getting rained on for the last 40 minutes of a 25km climb over Grimsel Pass. At the summit and for the first 3-5 minutes of the descent we were buffeted by sheets of rain and 1-3 degree Celsius temps combined with strong gusts of wind. I recall thinking on the descent as my freezing fingers could barely grip the brake levers, the braking power reduced to nothing while feeling I may be blown off the mountain, that there is no reason for me to be doing this. A few years later the exact sensations of how miserable I was and how that cold seemed to penetrate to my core are all reduced to my simple summing it up as: the coldest I have ever been- which is somehow romanticized. It makes no sense.
Damn, those yellow shades are awesome! I think we've gone over this - Rudy Project Pilots? Similar to some Oakley model named...
@mouse
Awesome picture - and surprising subject as Chuck Flop (a nickname I will perhaps some day explain) was my childhood hero and as I sat down to write this article, my intentions were to write a tale about Mottet, but instead I found myself in a philosophical mood about the sport...
As for your description of the descent - fantastic, but I think it calls into relief my feelings about descending: I hate descending, what I love is cornering...No other time do you feel as close to your machine when the forces are all without exception working to push you out of the corner and down the mountain, and your union with the machine defies physics and allows you briefly to fly.
As for descending, bombing down a road at mach 4 just makes you get sore, cold, and it takes ages to warm up the guns again on the next climb.
@Steampunk
Sounds like you've had a proper holiday. You're read The Rider already, right? Perhaps the only book more eloquently written. But, I have to say, Le Metier is not far in arrears. One of my favorite things about Fournel's book is the structure of short chapters. As I'm sure is the case with many of yours, my life doesn't accomodate lots of uninterrupted blocks of time for reading a book, and my obsessive personality makes it hard to put a book down mid-chapter. Reading a collection of tales like Need for the Bike is great for just picking it up during an idle moment and moving on when the next task calls.
@mrhallorann, @il ciclista medio
What always surprises me the most about the memory of pain is that I really can't remember it. Sure, I know it hurt - and I know it was unpleasant, that I hated everything. I just have an idea of what that means, but no actual memory of it. On the other hand, memories of pleasure actually bring the pleasure back. If I'm sitting in a room thinking about something good that happened, I'll become physically happy as an effect.
Amazing.
Its also worth pointing out that this is not the case with other negative feelings. Regret, for example, remains a palpable feeling. For instance, I knew I wasn't pushing myself hard enough on the last uphill TT I did and I still feel that sensation of regret. I can't think back on that TT without feeling it. The effect? I won't back off next time.
I believe all these mechanisms in the mind are wired to make it as easy as it can be to do the right thing. It doesn't mean it actually becomes easy...just as easy as it can be.