I put on my first pair of cycling shoes in 1992, after years of pounding toe-clips around the hills of my hometown. They were the top of the line Sidi’s. The same fruity colored units that Tinker sported back in the days of the Etto and Klein. Although I couldn’t understand why cyclists had to overtly abuse all sense of style – from the polka-dot jersey, to the shaved legs, to the shoes I just bought - it didn’t matter. I didn’t know the heritage that I would later fully embrace. I donned the shoes. I was going to be a cyclist.
Years went by. The cycle established itself. My focus seemed unwavering. Day in, day out. New town, new race, same purpose. I’d make quick success racing mtb and soon evolve to road. Cycling was it. All things. My job, my social scene and my love. As an amateur, I’d have a few opportunities to challenge for that larger stage to play on. I’d match sprints with big names, fight tooth and nail, gain respect and establish a reputation. I’d win a few, and lose a lot. On occasion, I’d give myself enough of a glimpse into the door of success, that the cycle lasted over a decade. The carrot, always just out of reach.
Then, things began to change. Maybe it was age. Maybe it was the distractions of life outside of cycling. Drinking, parties, women… social pursuits. Things not based on the results found in a fictitious world. Whatever it was, success became more elusive. The routine simply monotonous. The donning of the kit became a resentful obligation, no longer a commitment. A daily indication that the rut was not changing. “This again…” I would tell myself, or “Ok, one more season…” It would go.
With the blessing of hindsight, the prosperity and the wonder of racing died because everything became what it already was… the exact same thing over and over and over, and I had planed out. From the races to the people to the years passing by, nothing new was being found. I had nothing left to discover. Only a series of starts and finishes with nothing more than suffering in between. Progress had ended. I was simply turning pedals to avoid life, having no better idea of how to use the time. The cycle turned from my passion, to my dysfunction. Not knowing how to change, the change would occur anyway, without my input. Competitive cycling was me. It was my definition. Having no fire left, I simply ended putting up a fight, and slowly began to lose my shit. To say it has been difficult, is to understate. Everything that I defined myself by, was over and more importantly, no longer applicable.
Then life forcefully took me over with the blessing of a son, and the continuation of a search for challenge, through purposeful education and career pursuit. The real world they call it. Still, I have no regrets. I gave it hell. I gave it my all, I did it my way and while it didn’t turn into the long career I wished it to be, I am forever learning the lessons of that time. Somewhere in the middle of all that monotony, there was much to be gained. And while I have lost all love for competitive cycling and its egotistical, simulated Darwinistic routine, I am thankful that my wonder for cycling has not disappeared with it.
I dream of cycling once again. These days, the dream is about new journeys, far away from anything. Away from the need to be accepted through “official results”, I’ve found motivation to suffer again. I pack a tarp and a bag, a few matches, a stove, some ramen and a little smoke into a backpack, and step out of real life into the wilderness, where I am alone with only a bike and an idea. My only competition myself. I leave the half wheeling to the clown show, and find my challenge, testing my limits alone, away from judgment, reward or failure.
Forever, a son of cycling, I’m not original by any strech of the imagination. My efforts and my abilities only in the realm of average like so many others. In the same turn, as I followed my heros into that old world, I again am thankful that others have laid the way for me, establishing this new idea, where I have again found my love of cycling and the wonders that it can bring. wandering, as far as my legs will take me. Life is indeed good. One just needs to find a way to see that.
December 28th, 2008 at 1:24 pm
it’s like a ghost town up in here this holiday. great entry. oh, wait – here:
somewhere out in the
desert there is a wee man
making dust clouds cry.
December 28th, 2008 at 1:35 pm
its still alive in you — that passion for life, discovery and the bike. it may just be alive in a more healthy way. so your motivation does not lead you to bounce out of bed every day ready for the 6 hour ride. who cares? not me.
“I leave the half wheeling to the clown show,…”
how apt. much better to leave it that way – at least you recognize it for what it is…
my motivations dont allow me to fall asleep each night thinking of the next ride as i used to. but i still am an idiot bike rider — to the core.
my favorite bike now? my xtracycle. watching the kids at the elementary school ‘hey thats the coolest bike man!’ when i bust out the blender…. the satisfaction of carrying home 120 pounds of stuff from the hardware store — not in the back of some fucking SUV…the curiosity at the store when i show up with a long bike w/ lights etc. on it. fuck you joe six pack. bikes are cool.
props to gnome for laying it out there.
December 28th, 2008 at 1:58 pm
Your post sounds somewhat familiar to myself.
December 28th, 2008 at 3:07 pm
I imagine it sounds familiar to a bunch of us here… Great post el gnome.
December 28th, 2008 at 5:51 pm
…thank you, gnomer…most excellent…
…“I am thankful that my wonder for cycling has not disappeared”…that line sez it all for me & i’m gonna be 60, come springtime…
December 28th, 2008 at 6:36 pm
One of the best posts ever on DC.
Thanks
December 28th, 2008 at 6:45 pm
Life liberty and the persuit of happiness….How many times have we all thought…what the fuck!!!!..and we ALL have thought the same thing…A good ride and It will all be good…..A nice bike and it will be all good…a good push and it will be all good…and we forget that it is he bike that makes it all good….Bikes rock..keep the wheels spinning, and all ruber side down….cheers…..
December 28th, 2008 at 8:02 pm
Good stuff.
December 28th, 2008 at 9:54 pm
When I grow up, I wanna be just like you.
Only, you know, a lot better looking.
ha ha
Sweet post man.
December 29th, 2008 at 6:21 am
Great post, I’ll be turning 62 March 1rst and I’m still out there turning the pedals. Some days are like yesterday, just didn’t want to go, but as usual about 5 miles down the road I was glad I did. Your one wild and crazy guy, I mean that in a good way.
December 29th, 2008 at 6:34 am
Hang in there Gnome. There are lots of us out there. Let me know where you are rolling up as a master so I can stay out of the area. There are already enough tough old birds in our cat.
Turn the page.
December 29th, 2008 at 7:14 am
Fantastic POV.
Cycing has the ability to be rediscovered year after year. With new riding styles, bikes, and genres. It’s hard to stayed bummed about it for long.
December 29th, 2008 at 9:59 am
El Gnomo, nice post! I hung-up the bike in 1992 after 12 years of competitive cycling obsession. It took 15 years and 100 excuses why not to keep riding, but I’ve been back in the saddle for the last couple of years, working out at a pace that I can “enjoy the ride”, wondering what I was thinking taking all that time-off. If it’s in you, it’s in you and you just need the correct dosage to keep it rolling, despite what life throws at you. Hellbelly
December 29th, 2008 at 10:18 am
this should be at the top of the page for the next few days, no offence to the other postings, but everybody should read this
December 29th, 2008 at 12:38 pm
El Gnome , you are the Velo Lama !
best ever !!!!!
December 29th, 2008 at 3:35 pm
Velo Lama, nice. Well done Singletrack.
December 29th, 2008 at 5:45 pm
Agree with all, this is a good post.
This definitely touches on the feelings a lot of us must have with anything we invest so much time and energy into.
I think I enjoyed the mega-cross story/ride recap even better though…that was just some epic story action, look forward to more like that as well!
Holiday spirit must be in effect, so much positive, supportive energy in the DC house. Way to bring out the love.