If I were a pessimist, or a realist for that matter, I wonder if I might have started any of the various activities which have brought me the most pleasure and satisfaction. Though I have Cycling in my mind when I make that statement, this principle expands beyond the vast and il-defined borders of La Vie Velominatus: everything worth doing takes time, work, and commitment in equal measure, and that fact can be daunting and intimidating.
Invariably, it is my poor estimation of effort combined with my vague memory of pain and discomfort which affords me the greatest character trait I possess: optimism. In the face of all reasonable likelihood of failure, in spite of the hopeless amount of work something might prove to be, I invariably believe that success is not only possible, but inevitable. (This trait might also be classified as arrogance or stupidity, but I don’t like the sounds of those as much because they would require more introspection, and that sounds like work.)
It is with this frame of mind that I cheerfully tackle most any activity, in my life and on the bicycle. While I haven’t conducted a poll of any kind, I have informally received sufficient unsolicited and often shouted feedback to allow me to surmise that this approach is not always as liberating for those participating in the activity as it is for me. Be that as it may, and as has oft been observed in these archives, our chosen sport is one rife with suffering afforded by long days in the saddle which allow us to suffer more intensely and for longer days in the saddle in the future. Every element of this sport revolves about axes of sacrifice, dedication, and patience. Training, certainly. Diet and weight loss as well. Even learning the subtleties of maintaining our equipment properly takes years in the tutelage of a Cycling Sensei. These are long journeys that build on small gains over time; there is no magic potion that one can imbibe to be transformed from portly oaf into elite cyclist – much less so a Velominatus.
If, on a winter morning, I had the slightest appreciation of the intensity of the cold I would feel eight or ten hours into the ride, I might never set out on it; it is my optimism that I will enjoy the ride that allows me to experience the insular nothingness of The Tunnel.
If, as I point my bicycle towards the hills instead of the plains, I had a clear memory of the suffering it caused me previously, I might never become a better climber; it is my optimism that I can overcome my size and weight to master the terrain I love the most and am comprehensively il-suited to travel.
If, at eight years old, I’d had the slightest idea that I would be almost 30 years into my journey and only just beginning to develop some of the most rudimentary elements of experience, strength, knowledge and passion that Cycling delivers to us, I would perhaps never had started. Yet it was my optimism that these things would come that has allowed me to experience this wonderful journey.
Optimism is what allows the mortal to start down the path laid by the immortal. Vive la Vie Velominatus.
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@LA Dave
Beeker Wiggins +1
Having stated myself to be an optimist, I think, as I approach my second circuit race of the year tomorrow night, that I am about to get my plate licked clean
Quote - Hennie Kuiper - "Racing is licking your opponents plate clean, before starting your own" - absolute gold - I'm in trouble....
@Frank
Great post, and one that resonates with a lot of the riding I've been doing recently.
@Cyclops
I know where you're coming from, I went through something very similar this weekend preparing for my first proper road race. I should first confess that I'm new to the participation side of road racing. Until the year beginning of the year I was a mountain biker first and foremost, and a downhiller to boot (ducks thrown fruit). I needed a new challenge and turning myself into a competent road rider was it. My nick is nothing to do with the great Fausto Coppi, and more to do with the character from James Jarvis' "World of Pain" http://www.bikereader.com/contributors/jarvis/pain.html
In short, not a road cyclist.
Since February I've ridden every chance I've got, pushed myself harder, further and faster than I thought possible, and tried to improve. I've done a couple of Crits, but this weekend was my first proper road race, and carelessly I'd been selected fthe our club team on a 2-day 3-stage extravaganza. I was quite honestly shitting myself. Being in a team didn't help as I was very aware of being the new boy, and I didn't want to let my team mates down. Added to that, stage one was a TTT, and I've never done a time trial before. But a bit like the Crits, fear of the unknown disappears with the realisation that the miles have paid off and you can do this and I found myself pulling our time trialler up a hill on a course unsuited to his extra 'testers muscle'. One down, two to go. The afternoon 85km race was hard. Crit pace for 2 hours over a rolling course only to puncture with 10km to go. Extra application of the V got me to the line 6 minutes down. Sunday was also hard, made harder by flatting the other wheel 10km in and completing the rest with another straggler, towing him for a fair bit of it. But I finished. I wasn't the slowest rider, I wasn't even the slowest on our team, and by the end some of the optimism was back. I can do this, I will come back faster (and with less fragile inner tubes) and I will improve. I'll need to remember Rule #10, because I know it will hurt. Again. But I love it, and it keeps me pushing up the hills, burying myself on the flats and plunging down the descents. And it doesn't matter that 2 days later me legs still feel like they're on backwards, because when they work again, they'll be that little bit better. VLVV
And as we approach the Olympics, you've gotto admire Jason Kenny's optimism as he takes on these guns....
@Fausto
chapeau mate, you need a C02 cannister, one of my best loved bits of recent acquisition - I reckon I relaunched myself after a flat on the commute home last night in less than 3 minutes - rule 9 was active, but I don't think standing pumping a tyre up to 60 spots is part of that!
@Dr C Uber alles, indeed. Sometimes I wonder if they hide a second sprinter in that skinsuit.
@ten B
Me and the wife had a very similar discussion a few months back regarding the English translation of eigenwijs, mainly because my daughter is the living embodiment of the word, and could not really find a good english alternative. Stubborn, cocky, hard headed, none really work. The richness of language I guess.....
@Dr C
CO2 would have been great, but both tubes had unzipped themselves along a 20cm length. Specialized Turbo Tubes and Schwalbe Ultremo ZX's are not a great combo on rough Welsh roads! Fortunately all I had to do was wait for the Commissaire's car and a new wheel. Only problem was when the rear went on Sunday I had to use a 10 spd wheel on a 9 spd bike for about 60km, which limited my working gears to about 4. Just to top it off I got another flat on the way to work yesterday - no flats all year then 3 in 3 days. If I were an angrier man there may have been a Millarcopter moment.
@Fausto nice one. Racing is the biz.
@Dr C
Yikes. About the only thing to take comfort from (or perhaps to be optimistic about) is that the photographer used a really wide lens, thus exaggerating the size of his legs relative to the rest of his body. Still, it looks like he ate a professional bodybuilder for breakfast.
@Fausto
(Note - massive violation of the rules forthcoming)
Sounds like you've got a great attitude. I have signed up for a pair of Cycling Shit Sandwiches (known to the rest of the world as Triathlons), mostly because I got suckered into the whole thing by a co-worker last fall. However, the good news is that I've discovered that I really like road cycling, and suspect that come next year I'll ditch the drowning and fleeing portions of the race and try a real road event.
Unless you're one of the world's best, you're always competing primarily against yourself. I constantly repeat the "It never gets easier - you just get faster" mantra as I'm doing hill repeats, knowing that while there are younger, skinnier, faster riders out there I'm still faster than the guy I saw in the mirror 12 months ago. Also, whenever you need a dose of optimism, go to an American mall (or a Wal-mart if you are desperate) and look at the cetacean crowd there and realize that they think Tourmalet is a deep-fried French dish.