The Cyclist

The chiselled guns of a Cyclist

Being away from the bike is agony. Even for the day, while I’m at work, my mind swims about, thinking about my next ride. I worry that I won’t be home early enough to get the ride in that I’d planned – or worse yet – ride at all. I agonize over my decision not to ride in the morning, or to work, hoping one missed day doesn’t turn into two doesn’t turn into a week.

I wonder at which bike I’ll choose; I can visualize them hanging there, in the workshop, quietly waiting to be set free from their prison – a bike is only free when it’s being ridden. I imagine they discuss among themselves which is entitled to be ridden next; they might even place wagers on which will be the lucky one. I’m not sure with what bicycles might place wagers, perhaps a bit of grease for a creaking quick-release that I haven’t noticed yet.

All day, I evaluate how my body feels. Sitting folded up at a desk is a horrible place to judge one’s weight; I’ll lean against the desk’s edge and wonder if there was less of me touching it yesterday. I’ll feel the muscles in my thighs as I cross my legs in a conference room, and judge whether they feel stronger than the day before. Sometimes I’ll feel for the fibers in my muscles with my fingertips and then realize that the other people in the room with me probably find it odd that I’m rubbing my legs absentmindedly. To be fair, I find it odd that they don’t know what it feels like to be in shape.

It is a mystery whether I’ll be strong on the bike today or not. At the office, there is no way to know how I will feel; I won’t really know until I put in a real effort, which usually happens on the first climb of the day. Strength is a strange thing; the other day I felt blocked during my warmup but hit the top corner of the first climb so fast I almost lost my front wheel. Almost losing your front wheel in a corner on a climb is a special feeling.

Tim Krabbé wrote, “Non-riders. The emptiness of those lives shocks me.” Indeed; we are Cyclists, the rest of the world merely rides a bike.

frank

The founder of Velominati and curator of The Rules, Frank was born in the Dutch colonies of Minnesota. His boundless physical talents are carefully canceled out by his equally boundless enthusiasm for drinking. Coffee, beer, wine, if it’s in a container, he will enjoy it, a lot of it. He currently lives in Seattle. He loves riding in the rain and scheduling visits with the Man with the Hammer just to be reminded of the privilege it is to feel completely depleted. He holds down a technology job the description of which no-one really understands and his interests outside of Cycling and drinking are Cycling and drinking. As devoted aesthete, the only thing more important to him than riding a bike well is looking good doing it. Frank is co-author along with the other Keepers of the Cog of the popular book, The Rules, The Way of the Cycling Disciple and also writes a monthly column for the magazine, Cyclist. He is also currently working on the first follow-up to The Rules, tentatively entitled The Hardmen. Email him directly at rouleur@velominati.com.

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View Comments

gilly says:

Sep 2 2015 at 3:52 pm

Shit the bed, those guns are awesome. Too true @frank, I've been on call and tied to four wheels for the last 36 hours with 36 to go til my next ride. I feel lethargic and every meal I've had seems to sit all day in my stomach, weighing me down. I feel like I'm gaining weight by the minute, which I know I can't be, but the mind is cruel when you can't ride.
Puffy says:

Sep 2 2015 at 3:55 pm

Chapeau. Words from my own thoughts - thanks for making them clear to me. I've just come back from illness, and after a recovery ride messaged my coach as to how I was feeling, how my legs were. I truth I don't know as you so eloquently put, sitting here at the desk it is not knowable, even on the recovery ride, until I put them to the test. Championship finals start this weekend... I will know then.
Phillip Mercer says:

Sep 2 2015 at 4:13 pm

I was at work the other day after having done my usual fast Friday group ride in the morning where my plans changed that after work I'd meet my wife at my parents' place, triple the distance I'd normally commute home. I was excited. I looked forward to taking the route that I don't take too often, thinking about how I was going to power up the rolling terrain and hold a decent average speed. My heart broke however when I got on the bike that afternoon and two k's in I could feel my legs complaining about that morning's effort. It wasn't until 7k's to go until they came back. I'm glad they came back but I missed them mid-ride.
Bespoke says:

Sep 2 2015 at 4:36 pm

I don't know what's creeping me out more. The narcissism of the thigh rubbing or the fact that the bottom of his bibs line up perfectly with the surface of the podium.
il muro di manayunk says:

Sep 2 2015 at 4:58 pm

Even for the day, while I’m at work, my mind swims about, thinking about my next ride. I worry that I won’t be home early enough to get the ride in that I’d planned – or worse yet – ride at all.

Whoa. Are you me?

Seriously, there have been occasions where I have bolted out the office door so quickly to catch the early bus home so I can get a ride in that I've left my wallet/cell phone/keys sitting on my desk, only to realize it a minute after the bus has pulled away. Then the calculation quickly becomes "can I do without my wallet/cellphone/keys for a night or should I trade in 20 minutes of riding time to go back and get them?"
Ccos says:

Sep 2 2015 at 6:07 pm

There is the given of cyclists trying not to look at the legs of other cyclists at races (we're a subtle lot). The overt starring of non-cyclist at our guns when in public is hysterical.
Barracuda says:

Sep 2 2015 at 7:30 pm

" All day, I evaluate how my body feels. Sitting folded up at a desk is a horrible place to judge one’s weight; I’ll lean against the desk’s edge and wonder if there was less of me touching it yesterday. I’ll feel the muscles in my thighs as I cross my legs in a conference room, and judge whether they feel stronger than the day before. Sometimes I’ll feel for the fibers in my muscles with my fingertips and then realize that the other people in the room with me probably find it odd that I’m rubbing my legs absentmindedly. I find it odd that they don’t know what it feels like to be in shape."

What the ..... Have you got CCTV in my office ?

The keyboard is the font of all knowledge and also the bringer of doom and the black dog, especially when others are out riding and we are stuck tapping away the letters and numbers printed on the plastic little keys.

My only saving grace is that the AY-Ups burn bright into the night sky so I can keep some semblance of form into the coming warmer months and not look and feel like the oft laughed at spider rooting a light bulb at my desk.
frank says:

Sep 2 2015 at 8:48 pm

@Bespoke

I don’t know what’s creeping me out more. The narcissism of the thigh rubbing or the fact that the bottom of his bibs line up perfectly with the surface of the podium.

If narcissism creeps you out, then I am sorry to inform you that you need to find another community.
frank says:

Sep 2 2015 at 8:53 pm

@Phillip Mercer

I was at work the other day after having done my usual fast Friday group ride in the morning where my plans changed that after work I’d meet my wife at my parents’ place, triple the distance I’d normally commute home. I was excited. I looked forward to taking the route that I don’t take too often, thinking about how I was going to power up the rolling terrain and hold a decent average speed. My heart broke however when I got on the bike that afternoon and two k’s in I could feel my legs complaining about that morning’s effort. It wasn’t until 7k’s to go until they came back. I’m glad they came back but I missed them mid-ride.

The super ultra secret of Rule #5 is that you just keep fucking pushing and eventually your body will stop complaining and then you'll fly. That is, right until the wheels really come off the bus and then you're really truly, properly fucked.
Phillip Mercer says:

Sep 2 2015 at 10:50 pm

@frank

@Phillip Mercer

I was at work the other day after having done my usual fast Friday group ride in the morning where my plans changed that after work I’d meet my wife at my parents’ place, triple the distance I’d normally commute home. I was excited. I looked forward to taking the route that I don’t take too often, thinking about how I was going to power up the rolling terrain and hold a decent average speed. My heart broke however when I got on the bike that afternoon and two k’s in I could feel my legs complaining about that morning’s effort. It wasn’t until 7k’s to go until they came back. I’m glad they came back but I missed them mid-ride.

The super ultra secret of Rule #5 is that you just keep fucking pushing and eventually your body will stop complaining and then you’ll fly. That is, right until the wheels really come off the bus and then you’re really truly, properly fucked.

Damn straight, make them hurt.