Success Found in a “Failed” Ride

Sometimes cycling and exercise is just transportation and health. And sometimes, its education, introspection and helpful clarification all at once. Today was one of the latter types. I say I like type 2 fun, the kind that is hard in the moment but is a blast looking back. Today was one of those types as well.

I woke at 5:00 AM to take the new bike out for its first long ride. This one was a group ride, my first with an randonneuring group. What attracted me to this was its being a ‘noncompetitive sport’ that does 200, 300, 600, and even 1200 km rides for fun. The only requirement is that you finish within a very generous time window. For example, today’s 200 km ride would leave at 8:00 AM and you just had to finish it by 9:30 PM. Definitely manageable.

The start was fun as we all met up at the subway station – well over 30 of us on an 8 degree morning (46°F) My first mistake was evident when I got there. I was actually in shorts and jacket. Others wore long rain pants or tights. No matter. I saw one person with shorts so it’s all good. And actually I was fine on the 20 minute ride to the subway.

Riders greeted one another, admiring each others’ bikes while we waited to get our brevet cards. Today’s ride had three control checkpoints. One at a coffee shop 36 km away, one at a pub around 100 km away, another at around 170 km but just for a photo stop to prove you were there, and then back at the start. But here’s the tricky thing and for me what was the first red flag even before I signed up for my first ride. These checkpoints are the only spots where you can resupply. Did you not fill your water bottle at the first checkpoint? Is it hot and sunny? Too bad, wait until the next checkpoint. (Of course we were advised to take health into account obviously).

We started promptly at 8 and headed out. When I started I was pleased to notice I was keeping up with the group at a surprising 26 km/hr. For someone who averages around 20 this was pretty good – a sign of a nice new bike but maybe the power of riding with others. It felt reasonably effortless though looking back, I notice now that my heart rate was over 90% max. So more likely what was happening was the same thing that happens to me at 5K running races. It’s the “WHEE! We’re all going in a pack and it’s so fun and look how fast we are!” all the way up until I can no longer sustain it. And of course that’s what happened here. Soon the front pack was gone but likely some were behind me. And indeed, that was the case. A few km later 2-3 people showed up at a stop light and then left me behind.

Then came the cold headwind.

Then came the hills – not too steep but noticeable. This was work.

Next came the realization that while this bike is right for me, it needs a bike fit and likely a shorter stem. My elbows and wrists were starting to hurt a little bit. I think I need a shorter stem so I don’t reach as far and lean so far forward. But hey, even with gloves my hands were starting to go numb from cold so it wasn’t too painful.

And then along with the hills and being dropped came the time travel.

Wait, time travel, you say? You better believe it!

It is now early 1984. It’s a cold morning and I’m 13 and back in gym class. I’m a scholarship kid at a fancy private school, a bit of a geek to begin with but also am dealing with lots of issues at home (an entry in and of itself). So needless to say, I’m already not having a great time in school but gym class is the worst of it by far. We start with a run around the field. Before long I’m in the back of the pack. (I hadn’t learned that being a little out of breath was actually not your body saying it was in trouble but normal. That knowledge wouldn’t come for 25 more years. So I’m struggling, huffing and puffing and well behind everyone. Then, warmup over, it was time to play lacrosse. It went as well as one might expect when you know that thanks to a lazy eye I have basically no vision in my right eye and no depth perception. If I am to throw or catch anything it’s just down to luck. Pass me a ball and expect me to catch it with a net on the end of a stick? You must be joking. I was not able to do this one bit.

You can imagine how I feel at this point but fortunately the teacher blows the whistle. We’re finally at the end of the class. There is a God. Inside we go, heading for the locker room. Behind me is Ricky who looks like every mean kid from every 80s high school movie. And he decides that today isn’t miserable enough so he just starts in, telling me how useless I am and that I might be there on a scholarship but I’m not smart at all. I might not have the money to be there but now he’s telling me I don’t even have the intelligence to be there and this is the moment I turn around and hit a person for the last time in my life. He’s so shocked that it doesn’t turn into a fight, he just goes and changes then comes and finds me after I have changed and hits me once. I don’t even know if it hurt I’m so loaded with adrenaline and doing all I can not to cry from how awful I felt that I feel nothing.

I go to geometry class next and I can’t look at my bloody knuckles, cut by Ricky’s teeth, lest I end up crying in class so I just go through my day in a daze until Zoology class. Now at the time I thought the science teacher was an advocate for me but looking back at this and remembering the fact that he used to ‘jokingly insult’ some of the kids in class including my ‘hair that looked like dried up worms on the tennis court’ (maybe I could’ve washed it more often…) that I think maybe he was less of a friend than I thought. In any case, he brings up the morning’s incident and invites another kid from the student council to also weigh in on it instead of learning about the Krebs Citric Acid Cycle. “Yeah, this’ll need to be discussed and maybe there will be disciplinary action.” Like I needed this. I said nothing and after that day the incident was never spoken of again.

In many ways I think that this is what kept me from doing anything athletic for most of my adult life. It was my son, Daegan’s winning a bicycle from his dentist for brushing his teeth and winning at a drawing that made me get one to ride with him – when I was 37 years old. And I loved it. It wasn’t exercise or performance. It was transportation to interesting places and experiences. It could take me in the ravine where I could ride among trees. It could take me downtown through neighbourhoods where the food smelled so good and I could stop anytime to get some.

I soon took up spin classes. At first these sounded like gym class but in reality they were the opposite. The lights were out, the music was loud and we were all fixed in place. We all had tension on our wheels but never had any idea who was more fit. We all were sweating and smiling together knowing we were giving 100% of our best but not knowing if 100% of our best was 80% of our neighbour’s or 140% of it.

The time travel is a very recent thing, actually. I noticed it for the first time last year when doing a training plan for a Gran Fondo on Zwift. There the plan called for sustained strong efforts on rides 2.5 hours long. I noticed when the rides got longer and more difficult I’d have a weird reaction. I’d feel like crying. Not from pain or exhaustion. Actual sadness. I’d quit a few times but finally made it through the whole program but it wasn’t easy. Toward the end of the program I figured it out. I was travelling in time. I was no longer present me riding my bike in my home where my life is going beautifully. I was once again inadequate. I was at the back of the line of runners. I was dropping the lacrosse ball again. I did not fit in and was not cut out for this.

And that’s where I was barely 20 km into my 200 km ride today, pushing myself up the hill literally mentally telling Ricky that yes, everyone was long out of sight but he could just shut up. Eventually, blessedly I reached the first control stop. There were a ton of cyclists there. I wasn’t too bad off after all. I went inside, used the washroom, grabbed an espresso and a date square to take back outside and when I got outside, everyone was leaving.

Only one cyclist was left. When I set down my coffee and snack, he wished me safe travels and as he left, said “I’m handing the mantle of ‘Lanterne Rouge’ to you now.” For the uninitiated, “Lanterne Rouge” or “Red Lantern” means “last place” which used to be a weirdly coveted position in Tour de France but now is universal shorthand for last. But, he told me, he had had to stop twice to fix punctures. In the time it took me to get there, he got there, had a snack, a coffee, and fixed two flats.

Oof.

Shut up Ricky.

I had little time to lose, I gobbled up my date square, finished my tiny coffee, and headed out. 60 KM to go to the next control – and lunch – assuming I get there before everyone leaves.

(Yes, I know, I was still well ahead of the required pace to finish and take credit but it still didn’t feel great. Once again left out)

I rode another 5-6 km on the route and then, feeling tired and awful I decided to call it a day after about 42 kilometres. I plotted a route home, 53 km to go. And here’s the really wild thing. I was still cold (when I stopped even my feet were numb), I was still tired, but my whole attitude changed.

The trip home was so different. OK, yes, all the headwinds were now tailwinds and all the uphill grinds were now 50km/hr descents. (Whatever benefits the new bike confers one thing is sure, it’s really smooth and stable on descents!)

But what I noticed is that there was no more comparison. No more worrying about how fast I was going, where I was relative to the pack. If I wanted to take a photo, I could take it without worrying about how much further behind I’d get.

Along the way I passed restaurants and considered stopping. I was no longer bound by what stops were and were not permitted.

As I rode I thought about today’s adventure. As I said, it was definitely type two fun. Very difficult, more mental than physical in a huge way. But it was also really useful. Randonneuring on the surface sounds like something that would be a great fit for me, non-competitive, long distances, camaraderie – people with shared interests, pushing one’s limits.

On the other hand, it was another bit of time travel that reminded me of why I get on the bike and why I love to ride.

Now we’re back in 1987. Things at home haven’t improved much. Now both of my parents have pretty significant problems with alcohol so I don’t see much of them sober – except maybe as my dad is getting ready to go to work. School is fine now – I did only one year at that horrible private school, sent there because my dad had been transferred to another state. I was back at the school I grew up in. Socially, it was fine. There was no more bullying. But there were really differing interests so I pretty much had two friends. Four friends if you count these:

I had a car like that one, a 1964 Chevrolet Bel Air, and a Vt. Atlas and Gazetteer – a book that showed every tiny little road in my state – even the ones with grass growing up the middle of them. I would put my boom box in the back (no stereo in the car), listen to music and drive around for hours (gas was like $0.90/gallon and $5 worth of gas could last a week even with that old car. Eventually I knew all the short cuts and back roads everywhere around my house. And yes, some of that time I drove I did think about how things were at home or the fact that I was shy and had few friends. But mostly I listened to amazing music, dreamed of the future and learned about the area.

Sometimes I’d bring one of my friends along and we’d have adventures like driving to Boston without our parents knowing to see the city or, dreaming of a future when we’d be working in a hospital we’d drive to a nearby hospital and have dinner in their cafeteria. Or we’d just pick up a “20 miler” coffee at a gas station, drive around and tell each other what was on our minds.

There was no comparison, no set route or plan. We weren’t going to a car show or a rally or even a set tour. We’d go where we felt like until we were due back home or we didn’t have enough money for gas or needed something to eat.

And I think in some ways this is what riding a bike is for me. Exploration, listening to good music (on bone conducting headphones so I can hear traffic too), stopping when I see something interesting, eating good food and having adventures. And it’s something I do alone or with someone close to me – and for now that’s basically one person, my son because we keep pace with each other easily and happily. We set out on rides to interesting and weird places that vary from parks and open spaces to a nearby WWII POW camp. And if we’re feeling like the route should change we change routes. If a coffee stop or fish and chip stand looks good we don’t have to wait for a control. We stop and enjoy it. And if that takes so much of our time that we can’t do the full ride we’d planned, that’s no problem. Because whether I’m riding alone or with someone else a plan is a guideline for finding adventure and fun and is subject to change based on wind, weather or our whims.

Which makes today’s ride a success in an odd way. It was type 2 mental and physical fun that resulted in my really understanding why I ride and what I’m looking for. I won’t be doing any more brevets with the group – but I may take their routes as a starting point for my own explorations. And, possibly a bigger and more important decision is that the ultra cycling race I was considering doing in India this winter won’t be happening either. Talk about comparison! Everyone is literally trying to win. And a big miss I should’ve thought of: riding as fast as I could day and well into the night through somewhere I love visiting without stopping is ridiculous. My last big bicycle tour was from Delhi to Jhunjhunu in Rajasthan and is a great example of what I’m talking about. This trip had loads of stops on it for chai, snacks, and selfies with drivers who saw me pass. And in the end, instead of the 1,500 km ride throughout Rajasthan I had planned, I cut it a week short and spent that week staying with a family in a rural village instead.

So I feel really good to know all this. As I was riding today, one photo above all stood out as representative of this realization. I had to stop immediately when I saw it:

(Come back tomorrow for more good news – it’s getting late and I want to get this posted today)