I walk away from social gatherings with an acute sense of accomplishment whenever I haven’t offended anyone and when my friends all stayed awake. I view myself as a bottle of wine that keeps getting better with age, but I’m slowly coming to grips with the notion that I am actually a bottle that may be corked. The great irony of life is that as we become more comfortable with who we are, we become more annoying to be around.
Fortunately, I enjoy being alone. I haven’t always felt that way, but my natural charm means I have had to cultivate a taste for it. That isn’t to say I don’t like being around others – quite the opposite – but being alone allows me the opportunity to reconnect with who I am. This is especially true when riding my bicycle. Riding alone, there is nothing to do but focus on the sensations of the ride: the wind in my face, the smells in the air, the sound of my tires as we hum along together, rider and bicycle.
Doing a long ride alone is an exercise of discipline. The little voices in your head may start quietly, but they build to crescendo inside your skull after a few hours of solitary suffering. The doors and patios on the cafés at the roadside start looking larger and more welcoming with every kilometer that passes under your tires. A point comes, on these long rides, at which Rule #5 becomes a matter of continuing on with the task; a determination to finish what you have begun.
We learn fundamental things about ourselves when we are alone in the Pain Cave, after we’ve dropped the flashlight and watched helplessly as it rolled off the shelf and into the void. Questions come knocking, and they won’t go away until you’ve dealt with them. This is when we grow, when we build confidence in the face of doubt.
We are lucky to find ourselves at crossroads where every direction leads to more suffering, where the direction we choose is irrelevant. The choice is simply to suffer or to go home. In a world where we have made a science of luxury, we Cyclists choose to suffer.
Vive la Vie Velominatus.
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The pain cave is always darker alone. Yet the rewards are so much sweeter. No holding back for other riders in a group. Or feeling like you may be holding back others who far surpass your level of riding. Just you and the trusty steed alone to battle the elements.
@grumbledook Great video. Was featured at several film festivals this year. Although he may not be a cyclist, he has a true passion in his life and I am positive he has explored the pain cave on numerous occasions.
@grumbledook
"So true! But sometimes it's like this: There is no choice. You have to suffer to get home."
Ah, but do we not first choose to have to suffer to get home?
Quote from the video: "We use the word 'suffering' way too much."
I couldn't agree more, I realise that at the tender age of 38 I am far more annoying now to people than I was 10 years ago. I too enjoy my own company and love riding solo for the reasons you state.
I find that when I am north of a metric century I can really start digging To the depths where I learn the most about myself, for that is what it is all about. Being at the threshold where the slightest harder push on the pedals increases the dull pain in the legs from noticeable to pleasurable is where I enjoy things the most, climbing a short 20% hill where it is impossible to find a rhythm but you have no other option but to keep going or fall off, that is when I realise I am able to take more than I thought.
It's those moments that are almost impossible to explain to anybody that does not frequently set out to meet the man with the hammer.
How do you explain that the best feelings come shortly after you have been deep to cracking?
Nail on head, 'zactly. I enjoy riding with others, km seem to go by quicker, but solo rides can offer greater value for money. Last 20 odd km of a hard lonely into the headwind long ride make stepping into the kitchen and sticking the kettle on all the sweeter.
I'm 29, 30 in January. I ride alone b/c finding ppl to ride with is a pain in the ass. Nonetheless, I promised myself I'm going to try harder to make more cycling friends. Also because I don't really like talking.. listening is much easier.. and more productive.
It takes a good amount of activation energy to form a good group - or to find an existing group. Now that I think about it, in the last 3-months I've probably done about 95% of my training alone. I'm now stronger and feeling absolutely great about my form and endurance (Tour de Tucson is this weekend).
I guess I only ever feel lonely when I start to approach the 65-70km zone. Sometimes it's nice to suffer with others. When I saw a photo of myself answering a phone call from my girlfriend during a local Giro, I decided that there must be cure for this odd, new emotion surfacing in my somewhat isolated early professional life (e.g. loneliness).
Simply replace the cassette of Bike #2 with an 11-23 and leave in place your pre-existing Flemish Crank (53-39). (Strack et al). On the next ride, as you approach the said 65-70km zone, you would have already forgotten what loneliness is. Loneliness will be firmly replaced by a much more productive emotion - Fear. Fear that your legs are melting.
A-Merckx
A very nice piece, Frank. Although some of us have been annoying to others since Day One!
On truly L O N G rides, I actually find that the Pain Cave is much blacker with one other person bleakly occupying the same dank pit. I'm often tempted to cave when the going really gets tough--the cadence drops, the granny gears call, and the pace and faith just fall. Another lost soul brings their own breathless agony, and my own unquenchable pride twists the dagger that much deeper. I can't collapse now, I've got to keep up, and there's face to save. Just keep cranking...
@le chuck I am missing the tour de tucson this year but hope to ride it next year. If you find yourself out in New Mexico let me know. I am always up for a ride.
. Very well put. The solitude of the road gives you the zen of cyclism