One evening, an elderly Cherokee brave told his grandson about a battle that goes on inside people.

He said, “my son, the battle is between two ‘wolves’ inside us all. One is evil. It is anger, envy, jealousy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego.

The other is good. It is joy, peace love, hope serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion, and faith.”

The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked his grandfather, “which wolf wins?”

The old Cherokee simply replied, “the one that you feed.”

I am given to understand that our brains get covered in plaque when we don’t exercise. That sounds terrible, a plaque-covered brain; if I needed another reason to ride, that one would be first in line.

I already ride for many reasons; the freedom, the harmony, the sense of flying over the ground. The feeling of strength in my muscles as I force tempo and near my threshold. I love feeling fit, I love how my muscles feel when I touch them, the fibers are there just below the skin.

But I can’t always ride as much as I want or need to, and I can feel my mental state start to deteriorate. Self-doubt creeps in, unnoticed, and when that happens, I find satisfaction in climbing on my bike and going into the red just to prove I can still make myself hurt simply because I want to. It rebuilds the trust I have in myself that I can do whatever needs to be done in life.

Other times, I’ll find myself in an unexplained and unsolicited foul mood that needs an exorcism. I recently had such a day after a short spell off the bike. I knew what I needed to do: go meet the Man with the Hammer. Just going for a ride doesn’t flush the system the way I need it to; I find I need to run it on fumes in order to reboot the system. Five hours into the ride, I was still riding well and still in a dark mood. The policy is to keep turning onto a road that leads farther from home until the lights go out; only then am I permitted to ride home.

The ride through the total exhaustion is where the magic happens; the sensation of hopelessness at the daunting ride ahead slowly melts into certainty that I can override the messages coming from my body and keep chipping away at the task at hand. Eventually, a heavy kind of dull strength returns to my muscles when the Body finally gives in and decides to collaborate in the Mind’s mission to overcome. By the time I get home, drained, I am reborn.

I don’t always need to ride in order to be a complete person, but generally I am a better man when I find the time to turn the legs around. Winter is coming, and the shorter days will make it harder to get out, but I am resolved to continue to feed the Good Wolf.

Vive la Vie Velominatus.

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.

View Comments

  • @Buck Rogers

    Fucking fantastic once again. In special forces training they just LOVE to mind fuck you. That’s how they separate the ones who are worthy from those who aren’t. One thing they do sometimes us make everyone go for a fucking long ruck march and the whole way they keep telling you, “Only 15 more miles, “Only ten more miles until we rack the truck”, etc. Finally, after hours and total fucking exhaustion you reach the end of the match and just collapse. That’s when the Cadre walk up and go, “Ahhhh, fuck. Guess what boys, the truck cannot make it. Guess we get to ruck it all the way back. Of course, you can quit and catch a ride back in a few hours.” THAT’s when you see full grown men just break. But when you do make it back, nothing will break you. You feel mentally reborn. Fucking amazing.

    a few years ago i had a group of guys stagger into my bar, all wearing Furnace Creek 508 shirts, doing their best to make sure their livers met the Man with the Hammer.  i was not surprised in the slightest to discover that they were all current, or former operators.  we talked about this exact training evolution you describe as a metaphor for certain bike races, the 508 being high on that list, as well as Boston-Montreal-Boston.

  • This offseason I'm going back to the good old way of training.

    - Overdressing

    - No food

    - ( 1 ) water bottle

    - Small ring for at least six hours steady

    - Repeat next day

  • @frank - dang so apt.  Something is definitely feeding my Bad Wolf these days and the darned thing is going to escape soon.

  • @Chipomarc

    Actually, Brain Plaque is caused by using Bluetooth Headphones.

    Even if going deep on the turbo?

    BT headphones also eliminate the risk of death after getting a cable caught up in your front week on the rollers.

  • @Cary

    @Buck Rogers

    Fucking fantastic once again. In special forces training they just LOVE to mind fuck you. That’s how they separate the ones who are worthy from those who aren’t. One thing they do sometimes us make everyone go for a fucking long ruck march and the whole way they keep telling you, “Only 15 more miles, “Only ten more miles until we rack the truck”, etc. Finally, after hours and total fucking exhaustion you reach the end of the match and just collapse. That’s when the Cadre walk up and go, “Ahhhh, fuck. Guess what boys, the truck cannot make it. Guess we get to ruck it all the way back. Of course, you can quit and catch a ride back in a few hours.” THAT’s when you see full grown men just break. But when you do make it back, nothing will break you. You feel mentally reborn. Fucking amazing.

    a few years ago i had a group of guys stagger into my bar, all wearing Furnace Creek 508 shirts, doing their best to make sure their livers met the Man with the Hammer. i was not surprised in the slightest to discover that they were all current, or former operators. we talked about this exact training evolution you describe as a metaphor for certain bike races, the 508 being high on that list, as well as Boston-Montreal-Boston.

    Oh yeah, definitely.  How do you think I got into Ultra-running???  Sure as fuck wasn't Frahnk that introduced it to me!

  • @Tulio

    1. @Rick

    Doctor Who?

    Yes, Bad Wolf is a major and recurring story line in the series....and I could not resist. Apologies. For penance I will do extra intervals today to feed my good wolf and clear brain plaque.

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