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.
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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 !