Does that title sound twisted and weird?
It may, but there’s truth in it, and I do not mean in a sado-masochistic way. It’s a simple fact; athletics serves us pain in a variety of dishes. There is injury, and there is no fun and little joy there. But there is also the pain that is associated with hard training, and with high performance.
A long hard climb inflicts an interesting kind of discomfort. As the rider continues, the muscles fatigue. Fatigue products accumulate in working tissues. Supporting structures (hands, backside, back, feet) begin to report discomfort from prolonged pressure. All the symptoms intensify as effort level is increased. More, if the rider starts to approach the body’s anaerobic threshold, the lungs begin to burn, the diaphragm starts to ache.
Stay in that high aerobic zone for a while. The body begins to go into “oxygen debt.” Vision tunnels. The rider can hear the heart beating with a deep thud, right in the eardrum. Push a little harder and color washes out of the visual field, the arms start to tingle, legs get (long past the “burn”) start to feel like they are made out of water. Breathing is painful and difficult, and it seems there is on air in the air! When little multi-color paisleys start to swim across the visual field, and the world is seen beyond them as if through the wrong end of a long telescope… Stop! The body is close to “oxygen bankruptcy.” Go there and one simply falls over.
These same symptoms can be felt during specific, targeted intensity training. And there are no small number of cyclists who engage in this.
Or take the more muted kind of pain that a long long ride generates. After eight to ten hours in the saddle everything hurts, or is numb, or sore. Further, the experienced rider knows it will stay that way for several days after.
Why on earth would anyone endure this?
I’ve been asked why the “hard core” cyclists subject themselves to that kind of pain. I can’t answer for others. And I’ll set aside the whole issue of endorphin addiction. I can only answer for myself.
“Why do you do it?” I am asked.
The short answer is, “Because I’m a hedonist. I love to feel good!” Usually this results in a perplexed expression on the face of my questioner. But it’s true. I love the feeling of well being that comes from a properly trained and fit body. Brief periods of pain are a small price to pay for that.
And then too, there is an old expression among southern black field hands. They speak of an individual who continues to seek out suffering, by saying, “It got good to him.” Maybe that’s it.
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