La Vie Velominatus: Optimism
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.
Unlike @frank, I often struggle in my life to stay optimistic. Not that I’m hopelessly depressed or anything, but there are many a day where it all seems a bit pointless and hardly worth the effort. Cycling helps with that. It is the concrete thing in my life where, if I put the work in, I’ll be a better cyclist by the end of the day. It may only be incremental, but it’s something. I try to think about that, whenever I put in a week’s worth of work and see zero results, or see the situation actually get worse despite my efforts.
Brilliant post. In the midst of umpteen million intervals, I sometimes wonder how much more I could ensure only to wind up as pack fodder on race day. This is a great remindthat’s keep moving towarhorse summit at the top of the climb.
I love the idea that you suffer today in the hope that you will get stronger,fitter and quicker tomorrow, simply so you can suffer more at a higher speed in the future. How sick are we?
Also the faith and optimism you must have that the pain your in right now will bring benefit in the future, even though the outcome is uncertain.
What would you say to that 8 year old you if you could meet him now?
@Adrian – If I met my 8-year-old self today? I’d tell that little punk to do his homework, learn how to code, develop a savings habit, and never get off the bike, damnit.
Optimism – it’s what keeps me going to achieve shaving zen. Been four months now as I observe Rule #33 and I just now purchased a luffa sponge and exfoliant to overcome the razor burn. Thanks for the advice @mcaqueak.
@frank The English language falls short in some areas when describing character traits. I think “eigenwijs” sums up a lot of what you’re describing (rather than arrogance or stupidity). It’s the same Dutch stubbornness and pig-headed confidence, combined with optimism that produces the type of folk that take up a perpetual fight against nature in order to live where they do.
Ugh…I meant @mcsqueak. Hate typing on the iPhone.
I have sort of the opposite. Especially when it comes to crits. I always have a feeling of impending doom that sets in as the start time approaches and I see the grizzled masters with decades of base in their legs and the look in their eyes that tell this novitiate that this is gonna hurt real bad. I dread the surge of the first four or five laps as the “selection” is made. But then after I have held on and finished in the top 5 and my heart rate returns to double digits I thing to myself “That was fucking awesome!”
It’s worth taking a look at the Buddhist way of things.
http://www.thebigview.com/buddhism/fourtruths.html
Life means suffering.
My justification for those ‘silverbeet’ rides comes from a quote by Honore de Balzac “We do not attach ourselves lastingly to anything that has not cost us care, labour or longing.”
Thanks, Frank! It’s a good reminder of what makes our sport the greatest, in my opinion. Ours is a sport of courage and suffering. Of labor and love. It’s never easy, almost always hurts, but the work is worth it! The work gives us strength; physically and mentally. It improves our lives on and off the bike. It’s the optimism you discuss that makes this all possible. I was too scared to become a cyclist until last year at age 30. Fat and weak, I climbed aboard a bike and faced off against myself. I still go to battle, daily (and it is a battle). I love this community because often I am not enough of an optimist to face that battle and it is the Keepers and all of you that help me face early mornings, cold, and days of dead legs. I have a long way to go, but I’m optimistic that one day I will be a full blown Velominatus. Thanks all!
wow. great piece. you definitely got me motivated!
Frank – your pieces are always great, but this one is truly perfect for me & apropos. Optimism. Time. Work. Commitment. Intimidating. I’ve pulled off some pretty big things in my life to date, all of them taking some serious time, work, and commitment. I’ve recently hit the first wall I’ve ever hit in my life – I can’t seem to accomplish the main goal that sits right in front of me. There are a lot of reasons, but none of them really matter. I know I have it in me. I know with maybe twelve weeks of hard work I’ll put myself right there. Three months from peaking. I’ve started, stopped, stalled, stopped, started.
But, I simply need to go Sur La Plaque and commit to it. I know I can do it. Optimism. I’ve pulled off much bigger accomplishments that required far more work in the past. I know I can make this one happen.
One reason I’ve so quickly developed as a cyclist is because I’ve gone all in on it at the sake of not dedicating myself to this other task. Now is the time to ease off the pedals for just a bit. I know, I know. But in a few months would I rather be a bit faster, or finally pull this monkey off my back? (And in truth, if I just commit & stay focused, I’ll have plenty of time to ride and make this other goal happen.)
Thanks Frank! This was a GREAT one for me to read right now.
Thanks for that, Frank! Paris Mtn here I come.
@ten B
While I completely agree that Dutch is in some (many) ways a more expressive language and I think a lot of what you’re saying about us is right – I disagree completely that a better word is eigenwijs. Eigenwijs means, literally, “personal wisdom” and implies that one relies on their own knowledge while refusing advice from others – usually to their own detriment. Its a totally different mentality (and one for which I’m not aware of an English equivalent word) which is almost the oposite of optimism.
Optimism, in the sense that I’m discussing in the article, is one of innocence and naiveté. The blind faith that things will turn out alright. The blind faith that it will be fun or will be easy. Eigenwijs means that people are telling me not to go ride because I’ll be cold and I say, “no, I won’t be cold” and go out and ride only to freeze my ass off. Or to have someone say, “You should take a gillet with you” and I say, “no, I don’t need one” and then it turns out I needed one.
Are you actually Dutch? This isn’t the first time you’ve demonstrated a solid understanding of the language, not to mention the culture.
@Adrian
I don’t think I’d tell him anything. I wouldn’t even tell him to take that 10 year break after my injury – all my choices – good and bad – have brought me to where I am today, and I wouldn’t trade that for anything. I guess I’m lucky.
@SuperFed
I use a natural sponge, and Baxter Aftershave. Guns are wicked smooth. I have a vague recollection of consuming a number of ales and then comparing the smoothness of my guns to the smoothness of @snowgeek’s VMH’s guns and concluding – after rubbing both – that mine were smoother.
I wonder if that was entirely appropriate. Sorry @snowgeek. Might have crossed a line there.
@Xyverz
And what you said!
@TDogCA
Your autocorrect seems to be wicked awesome!
@The Oracle
I’m very fortunate to just be a generally optimistic, cheerful person, though the shine does wear off, of course, from time to time.
Also, I had a good friend of mine tell me in college that alcohol is a depressant, and that it doesn’t work on me.
while(drinking)
{
if(alcohol && frank) volume++;
}
@Cyclops
That is the oposite. What you describe is self-doubt. But then you describe a bunch of The V which will ultimately, after a few more years, result in optimism.
You are doing well, my son. Cheers.
@frank
This means that you are just plain stupid. You have so much in your life that you should be depressed about.
@meursault
I love buddhism. They are onto it. To me its more of a philosophy than a religion, though I’m sure I’m wrong in that assessment. Cheers.
@Yvonne, @wistoon33, @stickyjumper
Cheers, and welcome to all three of you!
@Ron
Cheers, glad to help. As @graham d.m. is alluding to, Cycling is a great template for proving to yourself that you can do things. Its very simple: ride more, get better. Nothing else in life is that simple.
You can do this, just stop being such a pussy and show that monkey what Rule #5 means!
@Marcus
You are really off your game, you’re calling me stupid after I already did so myself. This is at least three levels below your best; the Return of Bad Cadel must really have thrown you off your center. Think about this a second longer, go over to the Zoo Hill article and read the bit about the land rover, and come back here with something real.
@frank
It’s not just Bad Cadel. It’s also the unfettered superiority of The GoodMod which is messing with me (although i do confess to always liking him – even when he upset Bradley McGee).
Combine that with the failure of Adam Scott at The Open which brought back terrible repressed memories of Greg Norman – and my world is falling apart.
I am just striking out wherever I can – I have nothing.
@Cyclops
I have the same problem, which I was telling Frank about before the Seattle Cogal. I get very anxious before any big event, no matter how inconsequential. I worry about how much it’s going to hurt, and I know I’ll be suffering especially in the climbs. I go through the same mental steps on solo rides – before the climbs I mentally freak out a little bit until I get the first one under my belt for the day.
I’m trying to get better about it, but learning how to ride “within yourself” takes a long time, especially when you’re still early on the path and finding your legs, so to speak.
My personal goal is to man up enough to pin on a number before the summer is out, but I’ve been putting it off… need to put an end to that soon.
@Marcus
You’ll always have your optimism.
@mcsqueak As I was warming up for the Allan Butler Crit a couple of weeks ago I knew there would be some super fast guys there and I started getting really anxious and having self-doubts. I was telling myself “I’m not going to be able to hang on.” Except for the Cat 1 that went off the front I was able to stay with the fast guys and sprint around a guy I was fretting about before the race. After the dismal season I’d been having being able to hang at the front basically salvaged my it. I think “manning up” and getting an addadicktome is the only cure for the condition.
Fuck all this talk about feelings! What’s the matter with you all, you goddam bunch of lavatory bowls?
@mcsqueak
My only redeeming feature on a bike is much like my sex life – I can batter myself, rest and repeat ad nauseum. Knowing it’s going to hurt and accepting the fact makes rides much easier to deal with; and to extend the smut filled analogy, you don’t really know what you’re capable of until you do it against other people. Racing brings along your development in leaps and bounds, so do it sooner rather than later I reckon. (Just don’t crash and blame me).
I’m off for a shower.
@Oli
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lf3BNRF9ICc
@minion Make it a cold one.
This post justifies my decision to quit job and enroll for a PhD. One positive thing which has already happened is that I took up cycling during my first year. Thanks for the post Frank, it will help us attack that hill with more determination.
My natural optimism is currently locked in a deathmatch with neapolitan fatalism. Cycling and this community are my last line of resistance. I don’t post much but I’m always here soaking up the advice and the humour. cheers all
@Xyverz exactly what i’d be telling him.
@Xyverz
@frank
I think I’d just tell him to enjoy the ride more because it’s gone before you know it…..
@Oli
don’t lavatory bowls have feelings too?
Interestingly as I read this and watch the morning TV news show, they have just done an interview with Brad, who declares his surprise that he can no longer take his dog for a walk without being acknowledged (and is clearly very moved by that), and then an article about happiness and optimism
They are asking “what makes us happy?” – no mention so far, of ripping your legs off climbing up a hill, followed by returning to where you started…..mostly talking about being with people, which I would contend is the source of most peoples’ distress
One question I have is where does optimism come from, is it genetic? If so, why have I got caravan loads of it, yet my son aged 9 is a pessimist?
Being an optimist as a GP is very tiring, as one thing an optimist struggles with is talking to pessimists all day
Que sera – I seem to have had a full fuel cell recharge by the Sideburned Bananaman, shame I can’t bottle that!
@frank
I think we’re looking at opposite sides of the same coin. In the mind of the typical Dutchman, he is optimistic and feels he is most likely correct. I think the third paragraph in your article says it all. To you it’s optimism and innocence, to those around you… eigenwijsheid.
And yeah, I’m blessed with a pretty much complete set of Dutch DNA. Born and raised in Canada though.
@Jeff in PetroMetro
…is it just me?:
@LA Dave LMFAO
@LA Dave
Yep, it’s him – Beeker Wiggins…
@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.