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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-George Eliot
I don't know why I'm trying to drag the discussion away from drunken men stroking each others' legs and back on topic, but I forgot about this article's implicit lesson. Back from three weeks off the bike, I went out yesterday for a three-hour ride. The mercury was north of 40 with the humidex. This was a brutally stupid idea. I died a thousand deaths yesterday, ostensibly to try to recover the fitness I'd lost while away. Following the lessons above, greater patience was called for, rather than the arrogant effort to become strong quickly (thereby probably slowing the process).
I am optimistic that I will pay off the credit card within two years (or at any stage at all) after an extravagant bike purchase
I am optimistic that one day I will be worthy of said extravagant bike purchase
I am optimistic that beer will be scientifically proven as THE recovery drink for cyclists
@frank
You are very much correct in your analysis of philosophy or religion, but it's all good. It's just about cycling and walking the path of harmlessness.
BTW I have a gift for everybody. Next time on the climb and everything hurts try this. Breathe. Yes I know you do that already, but concentrate on your breathing, long in long out, count them, focus on them. Go on try it, what can you lose?
@ralph
You have my sympathy! I did a CSS (also +1!) many years ago when I knew no better. The only redeeming features were a top 5 against people who called themselves Triathletes and my mate loaning me his Campag Record equipped Lemond Ti for the road part. Other than that it was bollocks.
It's the improvement against others that drives me - whether it's the fact that I'm leaner, faster and happier than I was 6 months ago or that I can race up hills, not just ride up them or that I'm keeping up with younger, fitter, lighter guys just through sheer bloody-mindedness. Fortunately my VMH is very understanding and puts up with me being competitive for no good reason! I always knew this would be a year to develop and I keep going knowing with a bit more Gun Farming I can get past the young 'ins and show them a clean pair of heels.
@scaler911
Well, I guess you're snowgeek's VMH now. Can't say that Velominati isn't a progressive place...
@tessar
actually, you are right, and I guess my comment related to the bits that hold the bones together and the poor hyaline cartilage that keeps the ends of the bones apart, which, bless it, gets pounded to smithereens by runners
The bone bit is indeed helped by movement, but that is of little consolation when your knees and ankles are shot to hell
@Dr C
Yeah, that guy is probably clean. Never taken steroids, probably.
Reminds me of the All Drug Olympics.
@ralph
Your demerits for the triathlons are neutralized by how awesome that statement is. Faster than the guy in the mirror - classic!
@LA Dave
Gold!
What's even better, is his victory speech could easily have been translated into Beeker as well:
@Chris
@Chris
+1 on both counts!
@Dr C
This is all just solid fucking gold.
One should only ever run when being chased (and then only fast enough not to get caught), and swim only to prevent drowning or to look at cool shit underwater. Or swim back to your surf/windsurf board.
Speaking of which, last summer I spent 4 hours testing what it feels like to drown by trying to re-teach myself how to waterstart on Maui under the tutelage of David Ezzy. You can drink quite a lot of seawater and still survive.
After I had measurably lowered the water level in the bay while drifting down its length, David jumped on the wind surfer, did some jacked half-moon monkey-maneuver and sailed it back up into the wind to where I'd started. Impressive.