A good friend once said to me, “It seems to me that what bicycle riders are mostly doing is trying to get to a place where they can get a good coast back down.”
When Guy said that, I drew in breath to contradict him. I was formulating an argument based on fitness, and on the practicality of using a bike for transportation. But then I just let that breath back out, grinned at my good friend, and said, “You know..? You’re right.”
Adrenaline is a hormone that the body produces in response to fear or anger. It’s the “fight or flight” trigger. It boosts the body’s physical performance. As adrenaline is released into the system, things happen. The heart rate rises, respiration increases, blood flow to the digestive tract is diminished, at the same time that the peripheral circulation (to the skeletal muscles) is increased. The hair on the body stands up, in an ancient reflex to make the body look bigger and more menacing. Core temperature starts to rise. Sweat flow is increased to improve cooling. The vision seems to clear, hearing sharpens, the brain speeds up. In short it’s a rush. This is why folks go to amusement parks and get on rides.
Amusement park rides are designed to scare the livin’ spit out of you. (It might be added, that while the rides are designed to scare, they are also carefully constructed to be as safe as possible.) Why is this? Because, if you know that there is really no danger, it can be fun to have a good scare.
I think I’ve mentioned this before. My entire cycling “career” started one bright morning when I dragged the kid-clunker (that I didn’t know how to ride) up to the top of the equipment ramp on the barn hill. There was a pure adrenaline moment right after I pushed off. Scared me spitless, and I thought it was a complete blast.
I have a confession to make. I’m an adrenaline junky. I live for that moment, that tingling, copper tasting instant, right on the very utter edge. I control this tendency very closely now. In this advanced part of my life, I prefer to calculate the risks closely. (Such was not always the case.)
“Coasting” is an interesting word. In cycling it seems to imply the act of drifting along, effortlessly, not a care in the world. But in fact, coasting is the act of riding the bike on accumulated momentum, or with the acceleration provided by a down hill slope. True as far as it goes, but there is a place where a vaguely defined line is crossed, and “coasting” becomes “descending.”
All cyclists, it would seem, enjoy coasting, but many have no taste for descending. What’s the difference? Answer: Speed! In descending there is speed involved. Suddenly there is a need for technique. Braking and cornering, appropriate lines, coefficient of adhesion, wind drag, crosswind buffet, and road surface all become incredibly important. Face it, if one falls off of the bike, or hits something at a gentle pace, it may hurt and leave a little boo-boo. Elevate the speed to something north of 45 miles per hour and any problem is serious. But isn’t that the point? We aren’t really looking for pain and suffering, but the rush of the wind and the knowledge that this just could get out of hand… These things provide the reward. It’s that sensation of being truly alive, fully engaged, and in this moment that we seek.
Climbs are rewarding in their own right, but really now, would we do them if there were a ride waiting at the top?
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