Thursday Thoughts: Why We Ride

As I write this, I am preparing for today’s Cheaha Fall Colors Ride. It will be a fairly demanding “climber’s party.” It will be cool out, with clouds, wind, and a possibility of rain. Why do we do this? Why do we ride at all?

It’s interesting. Define cyclist as “someone who rides a bike on a fairly regular basis, like at least once a week.” Then interview folks in this group. Ask them questions about their riding. Ask them why they ride. In almost 100% of cases one of the first three reasons will be something that translates to “therapy.” I think that says a lot about us, and a lot about our society.

What’s even more interesting is what happens when you drill down and ask about what part of riding provides this therapy. Common to most are comments about “escape,” and the release from everyday cares and concerns. Some find the therapeutic elements to be the fierce concentration of competition. (I’ve often said the phrase “competitive cyclist” is redundant. Why is that?) Some don’t particularly like riding, but the level of fitness that results from it is the reward.

I honestly don’t understand those in that last category. I do derive a lot of pleasure from maintaining a high state of fitness, but to me, that is a wonderful fringe benefit of cycling. I fall into another category, as I suspect, do many of you.

That category is the riders who are considered to be the “nuts” even by most of the “cyclists.” Don’t misunderstand. We ride for all of the reasons that the others do… but! For us, there is something more. It is something poetic and transcendent about the ride itself.

Why do we ride? Because we have to! We ride because it’s who we are. We ride because it’s what we do. We ride because it hurts too much to stop. We ride because that’s the only time in our lives, in our existence, when we are real. We ride because we must. We ride because the road is there. We are defined by every crank stroke, every fall, every climb or descent, by saddle sores, by epic rides, by short trips to the corner store, by tough rides and by great rides, and by the ones that almost break us. We are like the old Superman comics. We, mild mannered geeks, slip into our phone booths, we shed our Clark Kent camoflage, and emerge as our real selves… Cyclists!

We ride to live, “La vida pura!”