Sometimes, when I plan to go on a ride, thoughts come into
my head arguing that I shouldn’t ride. It’s too cold, it’s too windy, not
enough time, not enough sleep, don’t feel much energy, etc.
But I know I want to get in the pedal time, so it becomes a
matter of not acting on those negative thoughts. I let them be, so they can fizzle
out on their own. Yes, I hear all the arguments against getting out on the
bike, but I just let them float on by as I channel my inner animal, which is
all about silent movement of instinctive intent. I get the bike ready to go,
get my snacks, put on my kit. My inner animal nudges me along with a subprogram
of action over any words or thoughts. I just keep moving toward getting out on
the ride. Because I know, deep down, that’s what I want to do.
This nonverbal inner animal activity is thought-free, like a
meditation, a complete tune-in to the present moment. And before I know it I’m
on the bike, and on the ride I wanted to go on, despite any real or imagined
inconveniences my rational mind had peppered me with earlier.
If it’s cold, I dress in layers for it. If a big headwind is waiting, I just think of it as workout, like a long climb. If it starts to
rain while on the ride, during which I didn’t expect rain due to the forecast I
follow, I make a mental adjustment. I go from having an aversion to riding in
the rain, to embracing it, accepting it as what’s happening, not fighting it.
Doing headwind riding, or getting caught in some unexpected
rain, or having to navigate through crowds of people or long lines of cars, or
ride a tightrope because of little or no bike lanes in traffic, can be tough to
deal with on the bike, because they are nagging inconveniences. But with my
inner animal front and center, I’m in nothing but survival mode, no thoughts,
just emotion-free reactions to any challenging situations on the bike. My inner
animal is an inside force that doesn't buy into pain and suffering when a long
ride becomes a hellish test of endurance. The inner animal acknowledges the pain
and suffering, but doesn’t visit or inhabit it. It abides, it keeps the engines
running full speed ahead, like a machine that is impervious to pain. My inner
animal tells me with confidence that I will do what needs to be done to finish
out the ride.
This inner animal mental state has always worked for me. Of
course, sometimes situations come up on the bike that stop the ride, because of
a crash and/or injury, exhaustion or other conditions. But our inner animal will
come to the fore if we just let it. It’s like a lifeline in a crisis. It gets us
past any negative or limiting thoughts in our heads, and lets us go farther and
faster than our rational minds thought were possible. So when the going gets
tough, let your inner animal take over the controls. Maybe you already have. If
so, you know how it finds you a path, and provides instinctive, confident moves through the
rough stuff.
Just wondering…
I went on a 51-mile ride this week, the day after doing the
same ride in strong headwind, tailwind, and side wind conditions. The first ride
was a mixed bag. I rode slowly during the first half because I was pedaling
right into the teeth of a strong north wind. But coming back, I had a tailwind,
and had a pretty nice pace all the way. Overall, the ride wasn’t fast, more in the
middle ground of speed.
But on the second day, conditions were better: No wind,
sunny and cool air in the low to mid 50s. I never know how I’m going to ride
until I’m out on the bike, but on the face of it, it looked like the favorable
conditions of no wind and sunshine would help me ride faster the second day.
But no, I rode slower. Almost four minutes slower over 51
miles. I think it was because my legs were a bit dead after the ride the day
before. Just didn’t have any energy in them all ride long. John, a riding buddy,
was on the trail at the same time going the other way. We waved and caught up
later with texts. He had a very fast day on the bike, dueling another rider and
ending up with an 18.5 mph average speed over 28 miles. Now that’s banging it
pretty hard. I told him my ride was a dead legged affair, not a lot of energy
and no speed at all. After thinking about it, I wondered if John and I had
ridden together if my dead legs would have shed their slogging ways and pumped
up, since I have been motivated to keep up with John on rides with him. Riders feed off of each
others’ energy and can get fired up just to keep up with a strong pace set by
another rider. But alone, that just doesn't happen. If there’s no stimulus to
up the pace, it’s impossible, at least for me, to crank it up alone for an
extended period if my energy's down. Alone, I can do so for a bit, but not very long. I’ll have to
ride with John when I have tired legs and find out if they can be pushed into a
strong pace over the length of the ride – just from the influence of his uptempo pace. Sometimes when your legs are heavy, you can’t sustain an uptempo pace no
matter how badly you want to. Other times they can break out of heavy-legged doldrums just by being pushed
into action by another fast rider. I guess the question is,
when is leg fatigue just in your head, and something that can be overcome with
an energizing stimulus, such as another fast rider? I suspect that sometimes
dead legs can be overcome, and sometimes not. Just depends on just how freakin' tired they are!
Til next time, remember to strap on a helmet every time you
get on the bike. Then keep the rubber side down, ride safely, and don’t forget:
Have a blast.
-- Mark Eric Larson
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