The Daily Grind

By Rob Manning

Why do we ride?

A while back I came to a bit of a revelation. I was on my chro-mo road bike battened into the trainer, pedaling away in my living room with a repeat of That 70’s Show playing on the tube. Don’t pretend you don’t ride skinny tires. Yeah you there, with the coffee cup, I saw that little embarrassed nod of agreement. Don’t try to deny it; I’m not here to judge. Anyway, I was about halfway into my forth and final maximal effort spin of the workout, and honestly, I was hurting. I was bonking bad, but I was still going, and then it happened.

Now, I generally get most of my good ideas in the shower, or while sitting on the throne (must be a guy thing). But at that moment, while my quads were burning and trying their best to impersonate lead weight, I had a rare moment of lucidity and something hit me. I sat there, detached from the lactic acid ravaging my legs, and asked myself probably the simplest question man has evolved. I asked the age old question of ‘why?’

Why do I sit on a trainer all winter and pedal to nowhere? Why do I suffer through brutal climbing intervals and max effort spins? Why do I strap a heart rate monitor to my chest and watch it like a coronary patient’s? Why do I sit there until my butt goes numb and my water bottles empty? Why do I spend an hour riding on asphalt in sub 40 degree weather? Why do I suffer through mud and slippery rocks in the woods, always with the potential to break something I probably need to go on functioning as a human being? Why do I ride? Why do WE ride?

I know there are probably a myriad of answers (and answerless questions) out there. You with the coffee cup, I bet you ride because it keeps you fit and it’s the cosmopolitan thing to do after Lance won his 7th tour, right? Well, that’s cool, and I can respect that. I suppose you could have said that you like the speed of flying down the trails, you love spending time out in nature, or you just plain like the clothes. Ok, I admit that the last reason is a little bit out there, but my point is that everyone has their own justification. I’m here to get you thinking about that justification.

Why do I love to ride? Well, there are a lot of reasons. I love the competitiveness developed among friends who ride together regularly. I enjoy being out in nature and away from large masses of people (there logic behind the reason I don’t live in a city, you know.) I love clearing that difficult spot that’s kicked my ass all season. I love the pain, and I know: that’s kind of sick. I love the clothes too, perhaps that’s even sicker, isn’t it?

Those explanations are all well and good (not to mention useful at cocktail parties), but there’s one catchall that explains everything in a nut shell: Riding is fun. I ride because it’s fun. Blame it on the human condition, but we do many crazy things in the name of entertainment. I love being out with two wheels under my two feet. When you lose the passion to get out there and enjoy life on two wheels, odds are there is something blocking the initial fun factor that drew you into the sport. I always tell myself that when it’s not fun anymore, it’s time to give up. I particularly remember a time when I went over the bars and slammed my quad into the stem, leaving a bruise the size of a grapefruit on my thigh. It was the worst pain I’ve experienced in a long time, and for some reason, I just wasn’t having fun the rest of that day (on the way back to the car of course.) Had I reached the point where the fun had drained? Of course not; after a mere few days, the itch to go out and have fun again returned, bruise and all.

There’s a message in there somewhere. No matter why you ride, be it for fitness, for family togetherness, because it’s your job (you lucky dog) or even just because (like me) it’s simply fun, try to keep that on the back burner the next time you’re out there. The moment riding becomes a dreadful responsibility the entire dynamic changes. I’m pretty certain it was the fun factor that hooked you initially. I find it critical to find that fun again. If you need to take some time off the trail, find a new riding partner, or just buy a new bike, go for it. Rekindling your love of the sport is like a lactic acid induced revelation while sweating in your living room; the road there and the circumstances surrounding it may be utterly bizarre, but it’s a beautiful thing.