Fitness. The rhythm, the feeling of precision in our movement, the sensations of The Ride. The temptation of knowing we might in some way control our suffering even as we push harder in spite of the searing pain in our legs and lungs. The notion that through suffering, we might learn something rudimentary about ourselves – that we might find a kind of salvation.
Cycling, like Art, is based on the elementary notion that through focussed study, we might better understand ourselves. But to describe Cycling as a an Art does it an injustice. An artist, they say, suffers because they must. A Cyclist, I suggest, suffers because we choose to.
This element of choice, what psychologists refer to as the locus of control, is part of what allows us to feel pleasure through suffering. Through this choice unfolds an avenue of personal discovery by which we uncover the very nature of ourselves. Like Michelangelo wielding his hammer to chip away fragments of stone that obscure a great sculpture, we turn our pedals to chip away at our form, eventually revealing our true selves as a manifestation of hard work, determination, and dedication to our craft.
Having chosen this path, we quickly find that riding a bicycle on warm, dry roads through sunny boulevards is the realm of the recreational cyclist. As winter approaches, the days get shorter and the weather worse. Form tempts us to greater things, but leaves us quickly despite our best intentions. Its taste lingers long upon the tongue and urges us to gain more. Even as life gets in the way, we cannot afford many days away from our craft before we find ourselves struggling to reclaim lost fitness.
To find form in the first place, and to maintain it in the second, is a simple matter of riding your bicycle a lot. This simple task asks of us, however, a year-round commitment to throwing our leg over a toptube in heat, cold, wind, rain, or sleet, lest we spend months fighting to reclaim last year’s lost condition.
But with riding in bad weather is revealed a hidden secret. It is in the rain and the cold, when all the seductive elements of riding a bicycle have vanished, that we are truly able to ensconce ourselves in the elemental qualities of riding a bicycle. Good weather and beautiful scenery, after all, are distractions from the work. Without them, we have only those elements that we ourselves bring to The Ride: the rhythm, harmony between rider and machine, our suffering, and our thoughts. As the rain pours down and all but the most devoted stay indoors, we pull on extra clothing and submit into the deluge.
We are the Few, we are the Committed. We are those who understand that riding in bad weather means you’re a badass, period.
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@Marko
Great book. This pic is from some book; had it scanned for ages waiting for this article to be written. I love it. It also doesn't seem he's racing - there is no race number on his bike. The wet jacket, the hairnet. It's pure class.
I must be 1987, since he's still on his gitane with Renault colors, but he's wearing Super-U bibs. Not sure, though.
@Pedale.Forchetta
Beautiful!
@Dr C
I do use the word "committed" a lot in the piece. Stop to think of which meaning of the word I intended?
Well Frank, goes without saying here in the PNW. You want to stay fit, you gotta ride in the shit. 'Sides, coming home all drenched and covered in road grime is way "harder".
Sorry so large, but that's how you look after a road ride in February around these parts.
Great piece frank and as Marko has pointed out, twice, the Professor's photo is perfectly fitting.
We don't get the definite seasons down here in Sydney. It gets hot and humid, cold and the last few years has seen an increase in rainfall after a very long drought due to "el Nino and la Nina".
I had forgotten what it was like to ride in the rain and while it's not ideal, one does find oneself in a cocoon like environment. Focused entirely on the task at hand, feeling even more as one with the machine.
@Dr C
Totally understand this, i.e. finding yourself doing more solo rides. I'm the same the older I get. While my daughter tells me it's because I have no friends, as much as I enjoy the camaradrie of a group, it's the being alone on a bike that I seem to enjoy more at times.
@mcsqueak, @RedRanger, @eightzero
I don't really agree that it's much more dangerous, at least not in a tangible way - assuming you're not out riding in the first rain after a dry spell and you've got all the embedded oils from the cars getting released and turning the roads in an ice rink, as RR suggests.
But cycling is dangerous, period. That's why I choose the least traveled roads; I spend months reconning my routes to find the best ones with the least traffic. Then I ride defensively aggressive.
But you can marginalize many of the risks that come with the rain. I take elementary precautions like lowering tire pressure just a bit and riding cautiously through corners and over bits of road where there might be a bit of slippery shit. The big-leaf maples, for instance, create a real mess here in the fall, as their enormous, rain-soaked leaves are a disaster to ride over.
As far as being visible, I have flashers on the front, a spazmatoid flasher on the back along with a flasher on each handlebar drop and, once it arrives, a Fi'z:k flasher under the saddle. I actually think I'm more visible in the rain that on a sunny day. Not to mention that traffic is generally more alert in bad weather as well.
I can control the bits that make riding in the rain tricky and through a willingness to look like a Christmas Tree, I'm also very visible. Always be careful, alert, and aggressively defensive.
Knock on wood, of course, because now I've cursed myself.
@itburns
+1.
@all
They are called mud guards, and they are inherently in violation of Rule 5 and Rule 9. There is not, however, a Rule against them. Best to go clip-on and find something that serves the purpose if you must. But like mirrors and flashing lights, lets keep the discussion of them to a minimum.
@thatsrando
Outstanding. What a great concept and execution. I did a few 200kms AUDAX events in Scotland when I lived there. Couldn't go too fast or two slow which crimped the style of the by racers. It was a great way to get some base kms in for the season though. My club used to do an annual "midnight run" in late June, but comparatively speaking, that was easy compared to you guys - we only get maybe 3 hours of darkness. A winter solstice run in Scotland would involve about 17 hours of darkness!
@wiscot
I'm not entirely sure that's true; it looks like he's training, and back then they warshed their own schizzle, usually in the sink!
@thatsrando
Awesome and welcome. I see you guys around town; one of the best looking kits around. And, if you break a Rule in the night when all you can see is your headlight, does anyone even notice?
@frank
As you say, around here every rain is the first rain in the sense that rain is few and far between. so there is always a ton of oil on the roads, at intersections the most. about 5 minutes into a rain around here and you can hear the emergency sirens. add to that the fact that we dont have top soil but instead clay and roads not built to drain water and we get plenty of flooding. its a clusterfuck. around here Rule #9 revolves around riding in the extreme heat. now if I lived in the PNW where folks are skilled in driving in the rain then I would have no problem.