Starting is the Hardest Part

Ever feel like it’s a struggle to just get started...with anything? 

That sums up the last year or so with regards to my randonneuring.  I have been saying

“maybe next year” for more years than I care to count, and after a series of unfortunate events over the months of February and March, well… here I am again.  The Rouleur Series, the first 200km

brevets, and now the first 300km brevet, are firmly in the “didn’t go” column.  Why can’t I

“just go” anymore?

Is this a BAD thing, though? Is anyone keeping score? Eh, probably a “no” answer for

both of those questions.  I’m not trying to recapture some bygone magic nor am I trying

to hold on to a disappearing youth – no, I genuinely find myself still being drawn toward

long-distance cycling, and I truly still enjoy starting and ending my workday on a bicycle.

I do, however, still tend toward the extreme, and I am most definitely too hard on myself

even in the best of circumstances.

Case in point, after finding myself with a new employer, one who is very supportive of

the bicycling lifestyle, was it good enough to simply enjoy riding back and forth to work

again after spending the pandemic years indoors and occasionally getting in a lunch-

time ride? No, it wasn’t good enough: I had to start keeping score. This practice is

especially foolish when nobody else cares, and even more so when I become my own worst cheerleader. 

Let’s forget for a moment that this last winter in Kansas City was

perhaps one of the gnarliest in recent memory, with weeks of single-digit (F) temps, ice,

wind, and more snow that I can remember in the last decade; yet, I never once thought that

taking a break would be allowed … as if I needed permission from some unseen,

unheard stakeholder.  Instead of using a car to get to the office with some grace and

self-forgiveness, it became a point of stress.  Bah.  After a very consistent summer of commutes, it only took a few days into the first bout of bad weather before I finally came to

my senses and tossed the tracking spreadsheet into the recycle bin.  A streak is great,

and sometimes fun… but, when the mental health toll takes a bad turn, best to set it

aside.  It doesn’t matter.

Of course, this is coming from someone who loves a good streak, be it days to the office

or number of months with a long ride, sign me up … until I start beating myself up about

it, everything is great.  That’s just part of my personality type, I suppose, and in some

ways it’s good for accountability … but it seems like in the last few years I have

forgotten how to force myself to do things that I – ultimately – know I enjoy.  I plan and

cancel more rides than I actually do, which is not something I used to even consider.

Rain, shine, snow sometimes … I would “just go”.

Perhaps this is the sad lament of many-a-fifty-year-old would-be pastime quitter.  Those

early mornings, shivering cold starts, lonely gas station sidewalks … what was the point

exactly? Is it really more satisfying to sit behind the computer and plan, sit behind the

steering wheel of the support vehicle and watch others do as I once did? Is that “enough?”

Lately, it seems the answer is still – somehow – no.  It’s not enough.  Man,

slumps are difficult.

Sleeping in is so, so easy.  Staying warm is so, so comfortable … but nothing easy or

comfortable ever led to self-improvement, and that shows.  Not only has my tolerance

for discomfort diminished over the last few years, so has my fitness, and so has my

body weight increased.  Enter the crucible of friendly competition…

After the aforementioned rough couple of months, it finally began to dawn on me the

degree to which I use food as a stress management tool, often to ill effect.  Things really

got out of control with some serious digestive issues pinning me to the mat back in

February.  Thankfully, no permanent damage had been done, but I endured just enough

discomfort to turn the lights on to the issue and start making better decisions.  Shortly

afterwards, some coworkers began to hint around about an in-office weight loss

challenge.  Bingo.  As a tool that had worked well for me in the past, I was keen to put

some money down on myself and start getting more serious about things.  A small

amount of discomfort now, perhaps some positive reinforcement later… and, on cycling,

perhaps a little easier of a time getting back into things without the burden of suffering

through the initial slogs of carrying too much weight around.

It’s only early April, but things are indeed starting to trend in the right direction in every

sense.  Importantly, this time around I have decided to modify the framework of the

competition itself and worry only about my own results, instead of trying to outright win

or fall into unsustainable gamesmanship.  I need to keep this behavior consistent and

just make it “they way I eat”, and not something temporary for the sake of a contest.  So

far, so good … the positive reinforcement has me looking at the food in front of me with

a sense of how my future self will feel, instead of the temporary distraction it might

provide from whatever is stressing me out.  Of course, that energy must go somewhere,

right?

Exercise as stress relief, instead of food? Quite right.  While it’s still early days, and

recent weeks have proved challenging, the notion that commuting to and from work is

not something to simply tally, but a worthy, enjoyable pursuit that has strong mental

health benefits, has begun to take root.  If I truly enjoy it, and it helps clean out the

debris from a busy day, or help process a difficult situation, well… who cares how many

times I’ve done it in a row? It should be done as often as possible, no matter what!

That revised framework allows me time to look forward to it, instead of dreading having

to do it to keep a particular number alive … if I have to get into a car to drive to an

appointment, so be it; because I’m still doing what’s important for me, most of the time.

Moderation is key, in all things, after all.

…Except when it comes to randonneuring, of course.

Even as I write this, I’m aware of the ridiculousness of purposefully riding really, really

long distances on a bicycle for no other reason than to achieve that particular distance.

Still, after all this time, I find myself thinking about it, wanting to do it, and realizing that

not too long ago I was actually rather good at it.  Not fast, not terribly impressive… but a

finisher.  Amid all the previous discussion about moderation, self-care, letting go of

streaks, and riding for enjoyment, I still find that randonneuring is genuinely enjoyable in

its ridiculousness.  There is an intangible desire to explore the distant horizon, simply

because it is there, and as the temperatures continue to improve over the coming

weeks and the unforeseen challenges of the first quarter of this year begin to fade into

history, my hesitation begins to fall away.  Unfortunately, I’ve missed too many

opportunities to ride with the club, so, as I have done in the past I’ll simply need to

create my own opportunities and maybe intersect with the club rides at a later date … but that’s okay, and I’ve

done it before.  Accountability has always been a problem, but as I have started to yield

success in being accountable to my future self from a nutrition standpoint, so too must I

summon the will to be accountable to my future self from a health, fitness, and longevity

perspective.  As Bob Burns once said, so wisely and accurately: you don’t stop riding

because you get old, you get old because you stop riding.  Last I checked, I am still far

too young to think that I’m actually “too old” for anything … so, will I continue to

manufacture excuses, or will I actually show up for myself?  After all, nobody else is keeping

score … if I don’t mark my own name in the book, who will?

Getting started is the hardest part, yes … but, once I get started, I might actually get what

I'm really after … even if it’s cycling a really, really long way for no good reason.

Spring is here...again... and...well, life is short.  I don't want to wait any longer.

More Than Just Sunrise Photos - What I've Learned from Riding to-and-from work for 40 straight workdays

The last few years have been an interesting journey for me.

The short story - LOL uh, if you've ever read my posts before, you know that's a loaded statement - involved me developing a disproportionate tie between my self-identity and the cycling I did; a gross over-compensation for a low sense of self-worth, perhaps.  When the pandemic kicked the stool out from underneath everyone, it created the opportunity for some serious self-reflection ... something that took nearly four years to reconcile.  What once drove me to generate 30,000 words-per-post in these pages was replaced with a vast emptiness, one that was filled with food as a coping mechanism for a loss of identity and the stresses of life which were no longer being exorcised with daily exercise.  I needed to get myself back.

It should be said that "getting back" to something is often a trap for the middle-aged.  I have to be very cognizant of that, because - well, what if what you were doing was actually bad?  What if you could have been doing something even better, and you're now limiting yourself?  What if that level of fitness wasn't all you could have achieved? ... but, if "getting back" to something is positive... e.g., like "getting back to being sober", for example ... then it isn't a bad thing at all.  

Dramatics aside, let's set the stage right.  It should be said that I didn't just wake up and decide to start making positive changes.  Often times, we're lazy and don't know what's good for ourselves lest we're hit upside the head with it.  Change of any kind is a slow process.  It took the completion of my graduate degree to create a far stronger sense of self-worth and self-awareness that was, before, minimized by outside factors that I have only recently come to realize don't matter.  It has taken therapy to further help blow the cobwebs out of my brain.  It has taken improved nutrition, driven by a doctor's appointment come wake-up-call.  It has taken a career change: not only to have the opportunity to work for a company that creates products that support my passions and get people across the globe moving and doing what they love, but to be in the sort of corporate environment, surrounded by strong, positive people (role models, if we think about it) that will support and enable that about which I am passionate.  Further, the new job is closer to home, and has an infrastructure that better supports bicycling to work ... so, I was keen to start doing it anyways, and had done.  But even with all of those pieces in place, it ultimately took the removal of my car - as has acted as a key motivator in the past - to throw the cards on the table and force me back into the saddle on a daily basis.

Since then, the last 40 work days of consistent, all-five-days-of-the-week riding to-and-from the office have begun a slow, positive transformation.  While the number on the scale is very slow to respond at my age, there is progress happening.  More than that, body measurements are beginning to change for the better:  jeans are looser, the shirt not quite as tight in key locations as it had been only two months ago.  The aches and pains that used to typify the end of my workdays are largely gone, replaced only by the small niggles indicative of the increase in exercise - which has included daily weight training and stretching to supplement to cycling.  The desire to snack during the day is largely gone.  The occasional stress-score peaks I would see on my wrist-based activity tracker during a typical work day are also gone ... and while the exercise certainly helps here, that is likely due to the positive environmental changes.  Mentally, I feel a lot happier, a lot more even-keeled.  I no longer have trouble falling asleep or getting up in the mornings ... even if the hour I rise these days is a couple hours earlier than it was only four months ago.  Even though the office is close by, I have been adding miles in the mornings and evenings, just because.  I have taken a lot of sunrise photos during my rides to work, and part of me can't help but see the metaphor in the appreciation.  The future is very bright, indeed.

It's also clear I'm finding a strong love for the bicycle again.  I never "hated it", to be clear - but, when one sets the stakes too high, the things we love can also become a trap.  What I learned is important here:  there is no score card.  While I am keen to keep counting and keep a streak going, I won't advertise it much unless I happen to hit a big personal milestone again, like 80 days, or "a year", and only if I find a way to communicate it in an inspiring way.  Right now it's 40 days.... and if it stops at 41 days, that's fine.  No-one is keeping score, and - honestly - we all deserve to be a little kinder to ourselves as it is.  

The counting will be done honestly, as ever, and as was done here.  My current streak started on May 23rd when I returned to work after a short vacation to support the Audax KC Santa Fe 1,000km brevet ... ha, during which my car decided to eat its own transmission.  Memorial Day was a day off, as was July 4th, neither of which I would have ridden or driven to work during, so, they aren't part of the "40" - same rule for the weekends, of course.  So, while I haven't driven to work in 58 calendar days, some of those days I wouldn't have anyways.  I've still driven a car for errands and family stuff on the weekends, of course, so I'm not completely car-free ... I just don't own one of my own, and honestly... considering the costs involved, I'm not sure I want to when I only live 3 miles from the office.  That will certainly become a "problem" as soon as I get tired of riding long distance events that start within a few miles of home, of course, but that's why rental cars exist.  ...or U-Haul's LOL.

Self-induced pressure removed, it should be said that while there shouldn't be a scorecard, goals are good.  There's nothing wrong with setting big, scary goals if one has the correct perspective about them.  Always ask, am I doing it for myself, or someone else?  If I never hit "100-days" or get another R-12, or another SR-series, or even another 200km ... well, who cares?  I have spent far too much of my life worried about measuring up to someone else's yardstick ... and for what?  Will I still try to do some rad stuff?  Absolutely ... and if I fail, well, I'll learn from it and I'll try again.  Personally and professionally alike ... failure is always an option.  It's what you do with that failure that matters.  Once that pressure is removed, you'll be surprised what you can do.

Tactical stuff ... I still prefer panniers.  I noticed that a lot of riders at the new workplace ride in with a backpack, and that works fine for them.  As far as style, aerodynamics, and just the convenience of getting in and out of the building, the locker room, etc., backpacks make sense ... but on the couple of days I tried using the messenger bag or a backpack, my shoulders and neck paid the price, as well as my ability to look around while in traffic.  Combined with my preference to ride in cycling gear and better control how sweaty I get, I don't need to re-learn that lesson from decades back ... panniers are the way for me.  At the end of the day, I find riding longer distances on the other bikes in my stable seems far easier after a week of lugging around a heavier, less aero bicycle, for sure ... and, for those future touring adventures on my mind, well, it's good practice anyways.  

I have also learned my new gig has a strong cycling culture.  Within that, while some do ride to/from the office, most are performance-minded cyclists who choose to ride over lunch.  Some do both, and some ride multiple times per day.  Many are really, really strong riders, which can be intimidating.  There is always that pressure - in any group dynamic from fishing to paragliding to running to freakin' crocheting quilts - to conform to societal and cultural norms, to fit in, to measure up, to use the "right tools", and that's normal, too.  Also important to note -- unless they're telling you "you can't do Y because of X" or there exists some legitimate rule, much of that pressure to conform or measure up is self-imposed.  So far, everyone has been more than welcoming, which is amazing.  I'm just unapologetically a little "off", in a lot of ways ... and always will be.... but I have to remind myself that if I don't "fit in", it's only because I'm self-selecting.  I still need to work on the bravery to show up, and that's on me... and that's been the case for commutes, fast weekday rides, and brevets alike for a few years now.  The day is fast approaching where I will get over my personal fears and I will just "go", without worrying so much, and I'll try to hold a wheel, take a pull, and talk bikes, racing, commuting, 'cross, whatever you got.  Even freakin' crocheting quilts.  

Man, I love cycling, don't you?  

So, there ... there's your in-depth (?) look at what the last 40 days of riding to-and-from work has done for me.  More than anything, it feels good to be "back"... and we're just getting started.

Talk to you at the next milestone ... and thanks for reading!  

Be good to each other, and if you see a cyclist out there, wave.  

Let's go ride. 

Did I Have it Right All Along?

If you've spent any time at all surfing these pages you know I have posted hundreds of thousands of words trying to articulate the benefits of commuting to work by bicycle, and it is very nice to see that this topic is still as relevant today as it has ever been.  Back in 2008 during the financial crisis and subsequent inflation and big spike in petrol prices in the states, traffic to this site nearly tripled.  Today, that cycle continues - at least evidenced by YouTube content, social media, podcasts, and everything else that has taken the place of the humble blog.  My own fault, really: a personal education journey and subsequent tripling of my workload in the office has wiped out any desires to spend additional hours at the keyboard to type out what others are articulating very well in fewer typed words or well produced videos. 

To that end, I want to share the following with those of you loyal readers some of my favorites from the vast array of content out there these days, particularly from a source which - in my opinion - represents the best of cycling on the internet:  GCN. 

Now, hold on ... there are as many opinions about other people’s opinions out there as there are.... well, opinions.  Some have criticized GCN as being too "racer" focused, which may well have been accurate a few years back, but I contend they have become quite aware of this notion.  Their content of late is broad, well-balanced, and it paints a far wider picture of cycling than it had perhaps originally intended.  Simon Richardson seems to be a champion of this balance, with a terrific blend of well-timed delivery, humor, research, and first-hand knowledge across a wide range of cycling topics.  Needless to continue reinforcing what is clearly apparent here:  I'm a fan of their stuff and have been watching it here and there for over five years now.  This isn't a plug, really -- they're doing just fine on YouTube, and certainly don't need my endorsement - and to be transparent, they haven't prompted, asked, or compensated me in any way for the posts below.  I simply feel they are worth sharing.

The first video delves into winter commuting - which may be a touch easier to stomach in the UK than, say, commuting in upper Manitoba this time of year ... or the American Midwest.  UK winters may not have the staggering Arctic temps and icy roads we must contend with here in the central US, but the content still translates well - especially considering most would only consider riding to and from work if the temperatures were well above freezing anyhow.  Beyond that mark, not much actually changes ... just add layers, and ride carefully.

Reinforcing another point that I've attempted to make on this blog over the years is the beneficial training that commuting to-and-from work provides.  For me, this was simply observational:  I did it because I liked it, and I just also happened to attend randonneuring events and the occasional ultra-distance race.  I never had much time to train in big chunks, so the commuting to and from work just had to do.  The daily exposure to the elements allowed continuous improvements in layering techniques, required adaptation to daily workout loads, demanded that I listen to my body, it kept the weight off, sharpened my logistical sensibilities, allowed me to experiment with lights and reflective gear, and so-on.

It never occurred to me that riding twice daily was actually a highly beneficial training tactic that others have begun to adopt, from pros to aspiring amateurs.  Turns out, recent research backs this up, and GCN (this piece also presented by Si), produced a brief video discussing it in some detail. 

 

Obviously, both videos have done quite a bit toward getting me back into a routine.  The pandemic un-did a lot for many, but I can only speak for myself:  comparing my fitness between 2018-2019, and today, a clear piece is missing that I have never successfully replaced:  consistency.  I have, however, not had a physical office to return to since our company radically downsized our real estate footprint in early 2021 … but that is beginning to change.  Now that our team has a mandatory once-per-day appearance at the office on the calendar, I have put bicycle commuting back into my lifestyle – and I didn’t realize just how much I’d missed it.  As I get my legs back underneath me and set big targets this spring, you can bet that I will be commuting to and from the office beyond our current once-a-week mandate, adding consistency and twice-per-day rides as a big part of my training regime.  Not only has it worked for me in the past, but research backs it up … not to mention all of the mental health benefits that will come with it. 

Remember that big bicycle boom that started during 2020?  Still have that bike today?  Well, here we are, friends.  I think, especially considering the current financial climate, riding back and forth to work may be just the thing for all of us.  Hope to see you out there!

 

Mental Health and My Recent Cycling Struggles

Vulnerability time.  This isn't really a post with a lot of research or specific insights into the benefits of cycling on mental health, but is rather a simple reflection on the last few years of my personal cycling, and - more specifically - how the pandemic seems to have really jerked the rug out from under me.

Yeah, yeah.... "boo hoo": another complaint about how damaging the lockdowns and the pandemic was for an individual, when it truly did have an impact on us all.  My case is simply another in a long list of evidence to the fact that "things were great until" ... yeah.  You know.  

One need not look much farther than the title of this blog, my email address, and all of the evidence that dates back to 2002 in these pages that commuting to and from work by bicycle was sorta my thing.  In fact, it was truly a large part of my identity.  This is a dangerous thing, really, in retrospect ... and I think there is evidence that suggests wrapping oneself up too much in one aspect of personal identity can be dangerous on the premise of what might occur if that with which one identifies is taken away or lost.  Taking away sight from someone passionate about photography or painting, for example.  Someone deeply enamored with a spouse, someone for whom they find purpose... and then that spouse gets ill and passes away.  A construction worker losing their hands in an accident.  A musician falling deaf.  A cyclist or runner who loses their legs.  Granted, each of these examples is an extreme case, and mine is not nearly so tragic ... but, I have noticed a marked difference in my attitude, my confidence, and how I approach problems these last three years since we transitioned from working in an office to working at home full time.  

First world problems, yes.  I still have my sight, my hearing, my arms, and my legs - and I still ride my bike here and there, even pretending to be a randonneur on occasion.  But, the consistency, the daily, self-forced exercise, the self-imposed routine that I once identified with so closely and loved is gone.  I have only been to the office a handful of times since March of 2020, and each of those times - because of a drastic remodel of the building and its facilities - have been by automobile.  In short, I feel like a sham, a failure, and honestly... I'm not even sure why I have renewed this domain name.  In so many ways, I'm definitely not the "commuterdude" I once was.

Why is that such a bad thing?  Well, in short, I have had a hard time standing on my own two feet as a person.  I think I had that problem before I started riding, which helped me find some self-worth and purpose in life.  That seems really, really silly typing it here ... which is the point of this entire post and exercise in self-discovery:  this "problem" isn't nearly as large a problem as it has become inside my own head.  I have self worth.  I have value in ways other than bicycle-centric subject matter.  The problem is, I haven't been believing it...and at the end of the day, I don't put myself first.  Hell, I usually don't put myself tenth.  

I'm relatively healthy, I have two wonderful children, a terrific life partner in my wife, people whom I consider friends, and a long standing career in data visualization for a global company.  In many regards, I have it better than a vast majority of the population.  So, what then is my problem exactly?  Is it not enough?  How dare I complain, honestly. 

You see, I love this sport.  I honestly think that I owe a large part of my adult health and mental fortitude to cycling.  Prior to finding myself needing to ride to work because of a broken down car so many years ago, I was not really in a good spot.  I wasn't taking care of myself, and I really didn't have much to point to as far as self-worth.  I worked hard, but really didn't like myself that much.  This is a problem that persists today.  In large part, cycling has been something about which I have been very passionate ... but, at the same time, I've only been using it to slow the bleeding, in a manner of speaking.  I still struggle with anxiety, depression, social awkwardness, low self-esteem, and have a tendency to try and bury all of this underneath a pile of poor eating habits.  Cycling - as passionate as I am about it - isn't enough to fix all of the root of those issues... it simply was enough exercise to keep my bad habits from sending me to the doctor's office.  Even going back to school as an adult wasn't enough to unload a lot of my personal baggage.  For some reason, what I have accomplished (regardless of category), and what I think of myself, are at odds.

I'm great at making plans, though. 

The last two years have seen me teeter-tottering on a repeating wave of big plans, and cancelled plans.  Big dietary plans, but quick cave-ins.  Big cycling plans, but big cancelations.  I still struggle from this problem of "if I can't be perfect, then I shouldn't even try", or "if I can't do it all, then what's the point of doing anything?".  The evidence of that is clear.... BIG plans to ride all of the spring brevets, but then consistently missing every single one of them.  Then, however, I'd go out and ride a solo 100km ride, on the heavy bike, and not die... so, what was I afraid of?  Am I embarrassed to let people see how far I've let myself go?  Am I worried about being last?.... like it even matters?  I have even shown up at the local Monday night ride on "the wrong bike", and have managed to hang in with the group... but, I still don't think I belong.  My jersey is too tight... I have too many bags.... I have fenders.... or I don't have fenders.... or I'm not a real gravel guy.... or those REALLY talented local racers will look at me funny... like that should matter....  or whatever my manufactured justification for not going might become in the hour or so leading up to the ride start, which is barely a mile from home.  Rinse.  Repeat.

The hard work that got me here has been forgotten, and there is part of me that doesn't want to hurt or suffer to try and get back to that good place again... the place where 200ks are "easy", and hanging in with the front group while having a conversation is just expected.  I am afraid to fail, but also afraid to do the work.

For the second year in a row, I find myself watching other people achieve things on Strava, while I ride alone... terrified to show myself, or to be judged, measured, compared.  I mean, I'm not fast.  Never have been.  And, no-one has ever cared, except me.... so, why this is a problem now, well, I'm still trying to figure that out.  But, it's a problem.  I'm actually in therapy.  Which... for me... someone keen to fix everything himself, or ignore the problems altogether, is a huge step.  Apparently it's "hip" to have a therapist nowadays, so, there's that.  

Most recently, I managed to try my hand at touring, and attempted to ride out to see my son at his school in Rolla, MO.  Missouri is a really pretty state, with the Ozark Mountains, and - of course - the Lake of the Ozarks, the Katy and Rock Island trails, and dozens of other notable cycling attractions - plus, it's also really hilly.  I planned for months, figured out the routes, hotels, and logistics ... and actually managed to get out of the driveway on day one!  Unfortunately, I ended up getting chased, caught, pulled off the bike, and bitten by a stray dog, about 20 miles into day two of six, which really put a damper on things.  Day three was spent in a regional ER getting the first round of rabies treatments, which is the standard course of action when the animal's vaccination status can't be verified.  Of course, this was a completely random thing, and while there are likely a dozen different scenarios I can think of where I got out of that unscathed, the fact is, I didn't... and things - like them or not - tend to happen for a reason.  At the end of the day, however, I was DOING IT.... and I felt really good.  I even completed the day two ride, not receiving the local sheriff's phone message about the dog's status until hours later ... and the bite itself was minor enough that the EMT's cleared me to continue.  Heck, I was ready for day three, which - in my mind, all told, should be success enough... but the trip still felt like another failure to complete something that I'd set out to do.  Needless to say, the subsequent trip to visit the daughter at her school in the opposite direction a couple weeks later was canceled, while I instead searched the internet for the best dog deterrents and pepper sprays.... none of which I'll likely ever need again.  Statistically, my dog-incident-per-mile ratio remains absurdly low, as is the case for most cyclists in this country.  Overthinking is something I do well, however - and more often than not, my noisy inner dialogue has talked me out of personal growth and challenges that I should be facing.  

As we move into May, I have finally had enough of all of this.  I am committing myself to starting a more sustainable dietary regimen, to get my health back on track.  I have committed to simply showing up ... which, clearly really is the hardest part of any journey.  I have committed myself to getting back into that which I love most:  randonneuring ... and to stop making excuses and saying "no" to myself and my goals.  Also on tap, I want to ride all of the local rail trails in their entirety over the next couple of years, including the monster loop of the Katy Trail and the proposed and planned Rock Island trail that (once finished) will create a 400-mile loop across Missouri and back.  Part of that trip will involve an off-course jog down into Rolla, so I can finally say "yes, I made it to Rolla by bicycle, under my own power".  Also, I will ride the Flint Hills Nature trail out to Council Grove (if not beyond to Herrington, should they ever finish it), and then up into Manhattan, KS.  

And finally, as my company finally starts to emerge from the throes of the pandemic and starts bringing us back into the office once a week, I will pack up my stuff into some panniers and ride there instead of driving.  Like I love to do.

Goals are good, plans are good ... and if none of these things actually work out, well.... life is still good, and I am still worth the effort.  I think more than ever I am a work in progress; and while most might think someone of my age and experience would have this all figured out, trust me:  I don't.  I don't think a lot of us really do, and that's okay to admit.  We get up, dust ourselves off, and keep at it.

I think the pandemic threw most of us off of our game ... but, in time we can hopefully each start to see the way back.  The painter can still find ways to be creative without eyesight, we all know what Beethoven accomplished after he lost his hearing, and even when we lose a loved one we can each still find purpose within ourselves.  That is my quest.  I hope you are each finding your way forward, too.  Much of my journey will still be atop a bicycle, because it still feels right.  I hope to see you out there.  There are a lot of great miles left to cover together.... and they don't have to be ridden alone.  I need to remember that, and allow myself to show up.  Trying to do all of this alone for the last few years, well.... yeah, it hasn't really worked.  Time to get back to it.  

Thanks for reading, as ever.

The trip to Rolla, April 20th, 2023: Day Two, after the dog bite, climbing some ridiculous hills on the way to Eldon, MO., and still finding a reason to smile.  Is it ever really "that bad," after all?

Confidence and Passion: Like Fine Wine? (A 2022 Wrap-Up Post)

As 2022 draws to a close, it seemed like - once again - a good time to draft a post to wrap up some thoughts on the year... and some random spouting on the completion of a 5-year journey through adult education that just wrapped up, as well.

The excuses are beginning to fall by the wayside ... yes, yes, my educational journey is now complete, and - as promised, both to you (if you're still here) and myself - that means a steady return to recreational writing.  Balanced against a bit of academic PTSD, perhaps.  The sprawling, 30,000-word epic posts are likely a thing of the past.  I'm not sure my wrists can take it, and in this early-21st Century culture of short attention spans and social media snippets, I'll save those longer stories for a future published book, perhaps.

So, as many might wonder, after a long educational journey, what have I learned?  It's a fair question.  I'm sure I know a little more than I used to.  I definitely know a lot more about myself than I expected to learn.  For now, I am simply happy to have finished.  Honestly, I'm content to avoid thinking about anything I might have learned for a while.

If life is like a wine cellar, we must treat our myriad bottles of personal knowledge and experience like bottles of good wine. There's a bottle for this hobby and that, and one for each chapter of life; that old relationship, those times with good friends forgotten, and all those miles on the road.

The main purpose of storing wine bottles on their sides is to prevent the drying out of the cork; yet another benefit involves the even distribution of sediment across a broader surface.  Wine enthusiasts and scientists still debate this; maybe horizontal storage simply maximizes available space; maybe dry corks are a myth.  Maybe it solved the issue of accidentally toppling upright bottles while fumbling about in dark cellars 150 years ago.  Regardless, as we put some of our experiences on the shelf (if only temporarily), horizontal storage prevents the best of our experiences from being packed too tightly, buried at the bottom of the bottle.  When the time comes to revisit them, only gentle agitation is required to bring them back into suspension.

Having given my bottle of mental fortitude a good shake, it is important to let things settle.  It is all in there.  Some lessons float to the top occasionally, but most will inevitably settle - which reinforces the importance for each of us to occasionally give ourselves a gentle turn once in a while.  Use it or lose it, others might succinctly say.  Fans of brevity and tidy analogies should shop elsewhere.

According to a few sources, only 10% of the wine produced today is meant to be stored and aged: most is meant for immediate consumption.  No matter what I've learned, experienced, or chosen to store - upright or otherwise - the point is to open it and enjoy it.  There is little as sad in this world as a bottle left undrunk, acrid, and past its prime.  

I could say the same for my bicycling experience since the pandemic took hold, now coming on three years ago.  What I had taken for granted has settled to the bottom of that particular bottle.  The last few years have seen fits and starts of various diets (all failed), panicked returns to training (most short-lived), brief returns to long distances, and the frustration associated with having left the bottle upright for too long.  Frustrated shaking has yet to unstick what daily commuting to and from work used to do for me, mentally and otherwise.

Yet, even as my own worst critic, that particular vintage still tastes perfect.  No matter how many times I decant it, despite the many hard lessons, missteps, and missed opportunities, I keep coming back.  The bright notes carry it well, and it tends to pair well with everything.

I've come to terms with the psychology of it all, at least today.  Cycling, for many, becomes an identity - especially when one struggles to confidently define themselves otherwise.  It is something that I do, yes, but it often takes too much of me when I let it.  Self-inflicted pressure tends to squeeze the joy out of most otherwise-terrific pastimes.  Surely as the title of this blog suggests, commuting to work became not just something I did - I had manufactured a responsibility for myself to do it, write about it, talk about it endlessly, obsess about it, and leverage it as the sole training base for my randonneuring endeavors.  Once it was gone, I felt a bit hollow ... but only because of what I had allowed it to become in my own mind.  But, in my own mind, what good was I without it?

So, what have I learned?  Balance.  Self-awareness.  Emotional intelligence.  A better understanding of the world.  Perhaps some confidence, too.  Pursuing education as an adult yielded a degree, yes, and righted a long-held personal belief that I had somehow done something wrong by not taking a more traditional path when I was younger.  The truth is, I took the journey I did from a lack of confidence.  Back then, I didn't think I could, so I didn't try very hard.  I barely showed up.  Instead, I took an arguably more difficult path, slowly gaining the confidence to endure what life threw my way.  I still survived, thrived... which should have told me I had what it took all along.  Own worst critic, indeed.  My only regret now is that I wasted far too much time being angry, anxious, and hesitant for no good reason.

For each of us, we get where we are - and appreciate where we are best - by valuing the lessons provided through the journey, not begrudging it through useless comparisons to misguided definitions of normalcy.  I rode back and forth to work on a bicycle because I enjoyed it - and it certainly does not follow societal norms in this area of the world.  The relative hardships of it were never a deterrent.  Even the harshest weather was looked at as a challenge.  Life should be no different: when there is passion and confidence, you simply get dressed and go.  

All told, my way is the only right way for me, yours only right for you.  Education or hard knocks... it doesn't matter.  While each can impact the fabric of our character, neither are all-defining.  Confidence and passion share a place in the bottle, each enhancing the other.  When both exist, we can be unstoppable if we'd only believe it.

I wish that simplistic view could translate and provide some hope for everyone.

Now, perhaps some cycling content?

I've managed to keep enough confidence and passion stirred up to get close to 5,000 miles logged for the year, which I'm pleased with.  Without the previously-normal back-n-forth jaunts to the office, many of these miles have been daily lunchtime rides, interspersed with longer weekend rides, and - yes - some "fake miles" on Zwift.  Say what you will, but for me, struggling with my weight, fitness, and consistency, indoor training with a smart trainer has been money well spent.  Granted, it is not doing anything for my recent timidity regarding the cold weather, but it is helping with every other aspect.  If I can get myself outdoors once in a while, that will be good for what I'm sure will be some chilly brevet starts in the coming Spring.


Miles aside, 2022 has found me finally showing up for a few things I'd never done before, like the terrific "Cranksgiving" event here in Kansas City.  I was invited to participate with a great team of friends, and with home-built and beefy modified bike trailers, we managed to haul in around 4,900 lbs. of food for a local food pantry, and had a great time doing it.  Afterwards there was chili, beer, and live music, and hey... the cold temps didn't "kill" me.  I'm already looking forward to next year!

Paul T., Captain of Team Big Grin with a monster haul at the 2022 K.C. Cranksgiving!  I mentioned "cold", and yes... case in point, Paul is indeed wearing shorts here.  I, on the other hand, looked like I just came off the night shift of an Alaska region brevet.  The average temperature during the event was 26ºF, and it was quite windy... which clearly means different things to different people!

Team Big Grin, 2022 Winners of the Heaviest Team Haul!
Yeah, that's me on the left... apparently, I can't ride a bike without a reflective vest anymore, and I'm always freezing.  Haha!

Long-distance riding?  Absolutely!  With school work still dominating my free time for much of 2022, I still managed to get in a few randonneuring events, including a terrific 300km event that included 177 miles of new-to-me roads up in Nebraska.  It was a day filled with long stretches of awesome open road, scorching heat under cloudless skies, severe thunderstorms chasing us across the plains, and some really good group riding in the last 100km as a few of us regrouped after dark.  I'm immensely glad I made it out for this event, and I got a cool, limited, 100th Anniversary BRM 300km medal to remember it by.

June 11th, 2022, 300km event:  Randonneurs heading out of St. Joseph into a great day.

Fixed gear is the way... at least for these two intrepid riders!  The route heads west across the vast Missouri River Valley, approaching Rulo, NE.  (John S. on the left, and Spencer K., Audax KC and Nebraska Sandhills Randonneurs RBA, on the right)

Supercell thunderstorm about 20 miles behind us and closing.  While the shelf cloud mercifully provided some much-needed shade from the sun, the storm ultimately produced a tornado and baseball-sized hail around Marysville, KS. and other rural communities on 6/11/22.  As we cyclists rode along in the open, we were lucky the storm turned south and missed us.  Later that night, we were treated to quite a lightning display and only experienced a few errant sprinkles of rain. 

The June 11th 300km event went well enough that I began to think about establishing another streak of monthly rides to capture the personally-elusive 6th R-12 award - something I've started and stopped at least four separate times now.

This year was hot, to say the least.  The randonneuring events I rode over the summer months (five in total, four finishes) averaged 87 degrees Fahrenheit over their duration, with heat indexes exceeding 100 in almost every case.  When temperatures finally broke in the Fall, I had become so acclimatized to things that 70 degrees felt chilly enough for arm warmers.  It was ridiculous... and amid the pressures of various paper deadlines, homework, and family obligations, the streak ended yet again.  To say that I'm already eyeing 2023 as the year to get R-12 number six done might be an understatement... but there are other plans in the hopper, too.  

As far as new roads go, I did quite a bit of exploring in 2022, covering over 400 miles of never-before-ridden roads.  The previously mentioned 300km in Nebraska took care of much of that number, the rest being on local neighborhood roads that I've been trying to fill in on my wandrer.earth, VeloViewer, Squadrats, and statshunters maps.  Pick your favorite, but any of these terrific sites that integrate with your Strava activities can reinvigorate your cycling experience, and introduce you to challenges you might not have considered trying:  many in your own backyard, which is great to keep with wheels turning in the winter months when you'd perhaps not fancy being dozens of miles from home in the cold and wind.

Also notable in 2022 was the culmination of a lot of planning in the form of attempts to visit each of my kids at their respective colleges via bicycle.  In each case, the round trip will end up being at least 400km... double that for one of the trips.  After getting the routes, stops, and hotels all perfectly planned, it never really occurred to me that I ought to perhaps train for the cycling itself.  While I thought I was prepared, I made several classic bikepacking (eh, more like loaded touring in my case) mistakes: I packed too much, under-estimated my abilities, and under-estimated the impact of a fully-loaded bicycle on average speed expectations and daily mileage plans... and, critically, I under-estimated the psychological impact of not meeting those expectations.  In my mind, I had it decided that this would be "just like a brevet" and I'd be cruising along with a 14-mph overall average, "no problem."  Instead, the sudden cold snap and 30 MPH headwind on day one had me barely averaging 10 MPH on the very hilly gravel route I'd chosen.  The attempted "leg one" of the journey ended up being a bust.  Like most cycling challenges, everything fell apart between my ears ... had I readjusted my expectations in the moment, I very well could have made it to the hotel - just later than planned - rested up for Day 2, and given it a good try once committed to the reality of my location the next morning.  Instead, I folded at the halfway mark and turned around for home, and having not ridden sensibly, I was too tired to enjoy the tailwind.  Training?  Check... it was still a solid 100-mile day with a full load, and I learned a lot.  I have since regained some fire in my belly around personal dietary concerns, some focused training over the winter, and some important mental reflection, with my eyes set on completing the goal before May this year... basically, my last chance to do it since they'll be graduating.

Cycling is often 80% mental, and 20% legs and logistics.  In early October, surprised by a cold front and strong headwind, I got things the wrong way around.  Sometimes we have to re-learn these sorts of lessons.  Here, 50 miles from both home and the planned hotel, I would argue silently with myself for 30 minutes before cashing it in and heading back home.  I still ended up having two really great weekends with each kid - I just got there "the easy way" instead.  2023...stay tuned.

All told, 2022 was a great year on the bike, and apparently I still have a good amount of passion for the sport.  Hopefully, you've all had a terrific 2022 on the bike!  I'm looking forward to a great season of Spring brevets, since it is once again a P-B-P year (the Paris-Brest-Paris 1200km Grand Randonnee), which means there will be a lot of attention on qualifying, which generally equates to more riders!  Even if P-B-P is not in your sights, randonneuring is still a great way to spend time on a bicycle.  Come join us, eh?  If you have the passion, stretching your legs out to 100, 200, 300, 400, and even 600km is a really good test and a great way to build some confidence incrementally.  You'll be amazed at what you can do! 

Check out RUSA.org to find out more about randonneuring in the U.S., search for rides near you and try something new for 2023!  


Hope to see you out there, and - as ever - thanks for reading!