Reassessment
Maybe it’s the milestone of aging that I recently reached. It could be an awareness of the unique foibles of this sport/activity/pastime that I practice. Possibly, I just woke up one day and realised that this is a weird thing for a middle-aged man to be doing. The time for reassessment hit me, involuntarily and without warning. And I’m in a bind over it.
I’m sure I’m not the only one here who is over half a century old… of course the big man Gianni is a few more years advanced than I, and nothing seems to have phased his resolve to continue doing what he has done for so long. Like a priest who suddenly thinks that maybe this whole God thing is a crock of shite, I too am ruminating on the concept of Cycling and what it actually is to me, what it provides for me, and how it affects my everyday life. Thing is, my everyday life is 100% Cycling.
Over the summer, I rode my mountain bike a lot more and my road bikes a lot less. There were some outside factors affecting my decision, if it actually was a decision. The lack of a Keepers Tour meant that my previous two summers of avoiding the dirt through fear of injury was no longer a concern. A new bike that was just a total blast to ride meant that it was more often than not the one I reached for when trawling the shed for a steed on any given day. And the requirement, nay, duty, nay, obligation… oh fuck it, the desire to Look Fantastic was waning inside me. Not that I shirked my responsibility in this department, after all, I am not a savage.
When it came time for the inevitable road FRBs after weeks of dirty indulgence, The Mirror was sending me mixed signals. Everything was perfect kit-wise, but underneath the cloak things were decidedly less than neat and trim. Was I becoming a parody of everything I stood for, the very person whom The Rules was meant to be guiding? I started to get if not an understanding, then an empathy with the general population who sees not a late 40s guy in better shape than they, but a shaved-legged, sweaty poser clomping around a café in ballet shoes and clad in a thin layer plastered in logos that leaves way too little to the imagination. I was becoming the guy I hated.
So much so that I began thinking of giving it away. Not Cycling per se, but the Lycra, the cafés, the duelling with tonnes of metal piloted by those who, if given the chance, would gladly run us right over just so they can make it to the supermarket 15 seconds quicker. It seemed that mountain biking, even though there are more variables in terrain to catch you off guard, more obstacles placed in front and all around you waiting to rip skin from bone or even shatter those very bones, was a far safer option. And while not really of the opinion that mountain bikers can wear whatever the hell we want (once again, not savages), at least there is a modicum of modesty afforded by baggy shorts, loose(r) fitting tops and shoes you can actually walk in. Hell, the thought of actually growing my leg hair back seemed appealing.
But not for long. Luckily, I have a good support group of riding friends, who share my passion for both tarmac and dirt. They know how much the tradition, the purity of the road means to me, and rather than let me concede defeat, encouraged me to continue to fight the good fight. The turning point came last night, when our regular Tuesday after-work ride was being discussed throughout the day by email. Who’s in, who’s out, why? I had an overwhelming proclivity that a bunch of guys who predominantly wear black, even in the dark of a winter’s evening, choosing to do battle with peak-hour traffic for the simple pleasure of riding a bike seemed a little, well, crazy. They could’ve belittled me, questioned my manhood, or even outright insulted me, but a few words of encouragement, underpinned with empathy of my thought processes, helped me realise that this is just what we do. So we did it.
And it was good.
So very good, that I wanted to do it again today, something that has been weeks absent. Ok, I went for a mountain bike ride, solo, but the joy of being on my bike was the same as I felt last night, last month, last year. And as I reached the top of the peak, a group of different friends were there, almost by some twist of fate handed down from Mount Velomis. We descended together, and while they knew nothing of the inner demons that I was slaying on the way down, they were well aware of just how much fun I, we, were having.
Never forget the reason we ride. The answer is in the question.
Beautiful brett, beautiful.
and there is no reason to not look fantastic when riding the dirt steed.
Middle aged curse… abandoning road for hiding in woods far from motoring idiots… or are you? Cycling is freedom through intent concentration and self exertion. Motoring is capitulation to distraction, impatience, and weakness. Yahoos race SUVs through the trees, but density is less than highways. Otherwise, you’re dodging dogs, coyotes and wolves when there aren’t any bears or cougars, all of which I’ve encountered off and on roads.
After 150,000 km, know that you have to rest then ride, which means continual planning and downtime. Parts of your body bark back when you’re gone too long. Can’t even imagine how arthritic/cardiac patients who’ve exclusively relied on cars must suffer. Yet they complain and laugh as they pass this sexagenarian fool creeping along on the white line, how they define realm of the cursed from right spot in space shared.
Marvelous piece and really hit a nerve. I just hit the big 5-0 last year and am as committed (if not more so than ever) to the bike – or 6 bikes as the case may be. I too have reflected on age, clothing, shaving and expenditures but when I can do a ride like last night on a beautiful summer’s eve here in WI, on lovely roads and feeling fit enough to go hard but choose not to, but to ride for the sheer pleasure of it, I know my choices are sound. I can’t make choices for others, but I can for me and being a cyclist for me is right.
Brett, wonderful! This is great.
I have been riding less on the road lately and, not even feeling guilty about it. I was actually afraid to share that here, for fear of being smashed.
I’ve got a lot of things going on off the bike right now. Nothing crazy, just…life is coming the way of cycling. Instead of resisting though, I’m finding time when I can, finding joy in making progress in lief (house, wife, career, etc.). I sometimes wonder if I’m still a Follower.
But, one ride can cure that. And, the fact is that I was going on 5, 6, and 7 hour weekend rides to make up for the fact that I didn’t quite have it together in other areas. Now, I’ve found a balance. I take care of the VMH, the dogs/cats, the garden, my work…and I ride when I can and love those rides.
I have backed away from racer boy, but I can see me, and why I ride, more clearly. And why would I question this? I play futbol with a fun group of dudes, from 25-70, twice a week. I road ride when I can, I cyclocommute a pal to work once a week, just so we can chat and catch up. I might have lost my sprint, but I’ve found my “soul surfer” cycling inner me.
Also, I always, always go through phases. I cannot underestimate the joys cycling has provided, but the fact is that I have participated in a lot of sports along the way, some I have no interest in anymore. I think the key is too keep on finding your stoke doing something that makes you smile, whether it is riding a road bike, flying down mtn. bike trails, or hanging ten at Kaikoura.
As an avid downhill skier, I get the lure of the mountain bike. However, I don’t find the same joy in mountain biking as I do in skiing.
When I’m on a bike, I must pedal. I must push myself. I must become one with the effort, the smoothness.
Trees get in the way and take me away from that mindfulness. Gravity, when going downhill, takes away from the effort I can supply.
It’s fun, no doubt. It’s just…..different.
Damn…I’m ready to go for a ride now, thanks for the article.
“They could’ve belittled me, questioned my manhood, or even outright insulted me….” – of course I expect that there will be a fair bit of that coming your way shortly compliments of the crew here :)
Ah, self doubt: that demon of adolescence and middle age. There probably is a correlation in there somewhere.
As to the poser bit: whether one is depends upon their inner dialogue.
Great piece Brett.
Got it. Thanx
Well timed and well written. I get to be that guy that talks about recovering from a significant bike wreck and pondering if cycling is really worth it. The VMH certainly doesn’t believe its worth it, but she accepts the reality that I can’t let it go. I try mountain biking- but the trails are limited near me (or more really, my skill set limits the trails) and more importantly, it doesn’t feed my soul in the same way. There is magic in tarmac and it pulls at me, calls me, and tells me to ride.
Life is too short to think about stopping.
6am this morning I cycled up Brassknocker Hill Bath alone in the rain on my way to work, today was not an enjoyable ride , I’ll be back on it tomorrow , I won’t let it defeat me even though there is an easier , safer tow path option all the way in that takes in the stunning canal and countryside .
A fine piece @brett, thought provoking for sure.
@wiscot +1 my friend and a wonderfully written article Brett. It was 50 for me this year too and I bought a new hardtail. I didn’t need it but there was a space in the bike shed I had this simmering desire to ride a little more off road where the CX struggled. It’s where I started all those years ago. In baggies and covered in mud I’m back to being a kid again. Maybe this is my mid life crisis? I don’t care, it’s one that makes me smile even if my off road bike handling skills suck. They’ll be back.
You could make a splinter site for MTB purists called “Da Rulez”. (© â„¢ Patent Pending)
Indeed thought provoking. Not sure whether to be surprised at how many parallel thoughts go on around here. Could be just that a fair chunk of us are at various “significant boundaries” age wise.
@Triathlete
But you need those less-than-enjoyable rides every once in a while to remind you of how good the good ones are. I hear folks say they only ride when it gets in the 60s or 70s or above (I live in WI). That means no riding for a lot of the year. Last night I rode on a stretch of road that just 10 weeks ago was covered in drifted snow and ice. Last night it was perfect. I wouldn’t get that perspective if I waited for “nice” weather. Ditto the easier route. How do you know it’s easier? Because you did it the hard way. If we want easy, we should all take up some wifi sport thingy.
@Brett – very well written, thoughtful. At my age, I ride to ensure that there is more. Every day on the bike is inspiration. Equito ergo sum.
Brett: VERY well written! From a 65 year old tha…remember this…WHEN YOU STOPE MOVING FORWARD, YOU START MOVING BACKWARD!
Brett: Very well written article. From a 65 year old that has 45 years of riding and a couple of miles behind him, remember…WHEN YOU STOP MOVING FORWARD, YOU START MOVING BACKWARD!
Lovely article – I get to ride once a week and even then I sometimes question the sense of it but when I am out it always feel like the right decision.
I got back on the bike via a hybrid about 10 years ago. Rode my first century on that bike at age 59. Two road bikes in the stable but still use the hybrid in the north woods of Wisconsin. I’ll always ride on the roads but also need to add a real mountain bike. When my VMH asks how I have the energy to do so much, I tell her I have the energy because I do so much.
Nicely done. brett nicely done.
Once upon a time (before parenthood), I rode at least 4-5 days per week & at least 250km per week. Nowadays, it’s usually only once a week. Sometimes I think I should just skip it & blow the froth off a few Belgian ales instead. Even though I’m not as strong as I once was, whenever I’m out riding I can’t help but think that I love it more than anything else in life besides my family. Cycling is beautiful, even when it gets ugly
Strong article. I’m another post-50 type, and I’ve started coming to terms with the volatility of my commitments to (really, emotions about) the things I do for fun. I seem to go several years having a primary thing and secondary and tertiary things that compete with it. Then those things swap places. And again.
Desires ebb and flood; it’s just what they do. But to have a real community based on your thing–that’s solid and real.
Aren’t the demons always present, always lurking in the background, and when you slay those aren’t there always new ones to take their place? Always.
Sometimes the worst demon is the one that tests your resolve, not to ride, but to first just step out the door. Isn’t that usually the hardest part of a lot of rides?
The problem comes from having a bike with a football pitch worth of seatpost sticking out, all the blood rushing to your head.
Stay ray safe my friend!
That Sir, is a ripper read !
Dodged a bullet there I reckon.
Give up road riding, ffft, who were you trying to kid.
Next you’ll be strapping canvas bags made by some “bike bag dude” to your touring bike. Oh the shame. (tongue inserted firmly in cheek)
Mtn Biking is a friggen blast. I love it. And I have a blast w/the local XC race scene. So much more accessible than finding road races. Mtn Bikes are always needing cleaned or fixed. A stick in my rear derailler the other day meant a long slow ride out, a new derailler, and legs loaded with effects of poison ivy as I’d spend too much time sitting on a dead log trying to at least get something working to get out of woods. Mtn biking happens at local parks, state parks and national parks. It’s a cool vibe. It’s a damn good winter sport here in the deep south. Summer time in the deep south brings out rattle headed copper moccasins. And I dread the day I hit one crossing a trail I’m flying down. I’ve seen no-shoulders hit by cars and they whip up in the air and thrash around. And once ya see a snake on the trail, for the rest of the ride every stick ya see is a snake. This SOB must just ate and he wouldn’t move for me. That big ‘ol viper head gives me the willies
@wilburrox and btw ya do wanna keep your legs shaved when mtn biking ’cause otherwise the tics simply run up ’em in to the nethers so much easier…
@wilburrox
Nice viper.
Nicely done. Although it can be distressing, removing the armor to reflect and reassess is necessary to avoid becoming dogmatic and stale. And cheers to support groups!
@Brett
The longer I have my legs hairless (I don’t shave…) the more the look of hairy legs repulses me. Mate who’s out of town at the moment, who refuses to shave, decided to send me a picture of his hubbard tattoo. Frankly I never got as far as seeing that tat for being repulsed by the masses of black curly hair.
I like to think by the time I can no longer ride, the hairs have given up growing back and all will be well. I don’t want to go back to that for more reasons that looks!
@wiscot
And I thought you were just a historian! Right on, Man!!
Once again Bretto, you said a mouthful. That is some nice writing, a-hole. Am I the only one around here writing about pedal wrenches, FFS?
Like Rob, I’ve been at this for a long time. Though I debate about classifying myself as an athlete, cycling has always kept me from eating or drinking too much, from getting too unfit in the winter. It is the only sport I have any ability at and that is because cycling demands stubbornness, and not much else. When my knee seemed truly fucked and I had to contemplate not being a cyclist, that was bad. There was no answer to that question. Or no question to that answer. Whatever Brett just said.
A fine write up @brett. Kudos on finding a balance between disciplines and choosing to fight on
Quite an excellent post Brett, thank you.
As one who is nearing the half century mark myself, and having spent much of my riding life on the dirt, I’ve found that the juxtaposition of road, cross and mountain bikes has resulted in bit of a symbiotic relationship between the three (or more precisely between MTB/Cross and Road) where the lesser ridden two bikes at any given time help to keep the pedals turning on whatever bike is the main ride for the moment.
I.e.: During the height of the local road racing season in summer when riding tarmac can become a chore, hopping on the MTB or Crosser acts like an elixir not only for the legs but for the soul. Conversely, during the colder winter months during CX season, heading out for a nice long road ride can help to keep my head on straight and my heart full come race day.
And mountain? Well mountain seems to always be reserved primarily for fun… while I do dabble in some of the local races, it’s never been as serious for me and so the majority of my MTB rides tend to be about exploration and exhilaration…”making the unknown known” as it were.
The Road is still where it all starts and ends for me – always has been, but the lure of the trail continues to pull me out of my lycra (and into some very “unbaggy” baggies) on the regular, and always it would seem at just the time I need it most.
Cheers.
Middle Age!?! HA!!!!! Yeah right. If you’re gonna live to be 200.
@Brett. Great Article. Your question was answered before you even consulted your friends. That moment you looked in the mirror and saw excess written all over your body you knew deep down that MTB would not be enough. If you had moved in to the spring looking and feeling awesome, you may well have had a point, but there is no substitute for the awesome calorie burning capacity of the road.
We have always sought to recognise that comparing MTB and Road Riding is futile. They may share 2 wheels but that is where it ends. The culture, character and nature of the disciplines are completely different and somehow I doubt you would find souplesse on a MTB and without those moments, your soul would be lost.
Great that the spirit of the prophet descended on you, the mists cleared, and you found your way back on to the path.
A-Merckx!
Everything this article says echoes for me but for different reasons. I came to cycling later in life, after a hip replacement in my early fifties, and after half a life [optimism bias I think there maybe] of other sports and dipping in and out of riding. And how I regret not having found the Way earlier [everything worthwhile I know, more or less, is from you guys by the way, so thank you]. I’ll never race, never win, but so what? I’ve found something so purely joyful, thrilling and satisfying it doesn’t matter. Sure, I compete against myself true – the improvement on average speed, the development of technique, the getting up climbs I had to walk at the beginning. It’s a great place to be. More. The ride’s become a moving meditation, a place to seek oblivion in the Work, a repair for the stresses of life, a place to rebuild and rebalance, and a place to grimace with the effort and then spread a grin on my face, because life really is worth living.
So to you who’ve had this all your time on this mortal coil, I’d say this: you don’t know what you’re not missing, but will if you give up.
There’s a guy I meet occasionally on the backroads: he’s in his late seventies, the jersey’s a bit more relaxed than in his racing days [he won quite a few national races in England back in the day], he goes slower these days, but he’s still covering hundreds of kilometres a week, and though he’d never heard of this place, boy is he rule compliant. I asked him once if he’d ever thought of stopping. He looked at me like I was quite, utterly mad, then said –
Biking. Breathing. Same.
Wow. Fantastic article. Great commentary.
Not 50 yet , but it’s creeping up faster and faster. At this point in life I do ponder why I love to ride so much. I’m not a racer, never have been. I’m one of those “soul surfer” cyclist types. Other than my beautiful velomiwife, cycling and bicycles have been one of my great love affairs.
A year and a half ago, on one of my daily commutes( I’m a rabid commuter), I was hit not by the man with the hammer but by the man with the truck. Two broken arms, massive concussion, emergency surgery to repair shattered wrists, 8,000 dollars of hardware keeping right hand connected to the rest of my arm. During the initial recovery process, I had a lot of timr to ponder deep thoughts. Was it all worth it? Fucking A right it was.
I never was truly aware how much I loved cycling till it was taken away. You never miss the water till the well goes dry and all. At this point, I am stronger than I ever was before I was hit. Whenever I ride, and that is as often as possible, I am acutely aware of what a gift it is just to be able to ride at all.
I ride for countless reasons and I could go on ad ifinitum, but I won’t, ’cause that would be boring . Suffice it to say, Live to ride, ride to live.
Thats my motto and I’m sticking with it.
Thanks for sharing your thoughts Brett. I too have pondered the prospect of taking to the dirt. I came back to the road after many years of intermittent MTB activity. The lure of The Road has won, for now. Modern cycles and all the fantastic kit easily outweigh the challenge of Traffic! I have stayed sharp and Traffic savvy thanks to being able to benefit from being a multi-disciplinary road user. That way I can take my place on The Road with confidence and style befitting an Older Cyclist. Not for me the excesses of the tightest lycra but I can still look good on The Road and command my space. Of course the question: MTB or Road Bike is is easily answered. The number of bikes we should own = N+1 , just make sure that N includes machines for Road and Dirt!
Nice one Brett. Similar age here so I gets it as well. The other thing that brings this home is the fact that I watch my father line up to race “C” grade before me each week. Knee replaced 2 years ago, but still finishing top 10 most weeks. He turned 70 this year and doesn’t look like giving it up either. The smile he has at the end of each race/ride sums it all up for me.
@All
I’d love to address each and every one of your posts individually, such are the great thoughts put forward by you all. It really warms the heart of my cockles to be a part of such a switched on community. This is why I ride, and will do so until a recumbent is the only option. Then I’ll ride that fucker too.
Thank you. All of you.
*Special mention @barracuda for the Bike Bag Dude reference!
@gettingthere Wonderful, poetic post. Appropriate for the equally so article. Thank you and thanks Brett.
@brett
This ^ and great thoughts In the article. It strikes me that part of your deal is that 100% of your life is the bike where most of us it is only a small %. I can’t imagine working and playing at the same thing in life. Meaning that part of the joy of life is change, both physically and mentally.
Aways, when I ride big miles for long stretches, a summer of racing, training for a goal a year away the following season, year, I need to do something totally different. Because there never is a question of not riding in some form, it becomes a different kind of bike. The long and the short, for me there is no bad bike. Mountain, fixed on or off the track, little commuter and road they are all good and when I go too long on one then I can’t wait to get back with another.
So I read your mid life questioning more as not a middle aged wondering why am I doing a kids activity but man, I need a break/change.
Glad you sorted it because you would be missed!
@Kyle
There is so much truth in this simple phrase.
Brett, I was a product of this very thing. I discovered cycling in my early 20’s, got good at it pretty quickly and next thing I knew I was a Cat II, close to Cat I. The training dialed way up as I hoped to get on the national stage. I’d cooked through a number of lady friends who saw racing as a unique, interesting sport at first, but after a number of months where Friday and Saturday nights were spent doing nothing (don’t stand when you can sit, or better lie down, right?) because there was the big race the next day, burned out. Eventually, it burned me out too. One day I came home and got another “that fucking bike” lecture, I hung my Ritchey on it’s hooks in the shop and didn’t really ride again for 10 years. My teammates were dismayed, as I’d been in the top 10 in 2 State Championships, and when I hung it up was way stronger than I’d ever been, so I’ll now never know if I could have made it to The Big Show.
You’re lucky that your friends made you see the light.
Got a Friday morning ride at 7:45 lined up with two mates. Not a bad way to kick off the weekend! D-Day ride, my birthday falls on the weekend, can’t beat that, and parties going on both Friday and Saturday.
Sometimes I enjoy the peace of a solo ride, but it’s also nice to ride with pals sometimes. I can easily run my mouth for a few hours, forget I’m even pedaling, and then I’m home and have gotten in some fun KMs.
Yes! Lots of great comments rolling in on this one. Glad to hear the stories of some of you who are a bit older, but still loving the hell out of riding bikes.
That’s about all of it. It doesn’t matter what you ride as long as your riding
@brett
A work colleague has several pieces of BBD product for his Titanium Fat Bike. I own a T shirt due to connection. Lucky eh ! Bloody good gear though !