I promised you a cringe-worthy post and here it is.
So the 10th thing I realized on my bike trip?
I am a serious cyclist.
Before this trip I had a formula in my head of how I needed to be before I could consider myself a “serious cyclist”. It went like this…
BMI under 25+super speedy(lots of miles)=serious cyclist
So according to my formula I was not serious cyclist partly because I am still a good 20 pounds overweight if we use the BMI index as the gold standard. Then I used this flawless logic…
I am not a serious cyclist, therefore I should not spend money on cycling clothes.
I decided to put off buying proper cycling clothes until I got down to a certain magical number which would “poof!” turn me into a cyclist worthy of wearing cycling clothes. Which is really absurd because I spent a decent chunk of money on a road bike. If I was into cycling enough to buy a second bike-a road bike, I clearly needed the proper attire to ride that bike. Like I said, my logic is always flawless!
But on the third morning of my trip, when I paused to let a flock of turkeys cross the road, I finally realized what “serious” cycling really is.
It isn’t about achieving a particular physique, or maintaining a certain speed or getting a magical number of miles in each month.
A serious cyclist is someone who loves to bike. Someone who loves the speed, freedom and exhilaration of exploring the world on two wheels and is willing to put in effort, time and sweat to do so. It is not about measuring up to certain parameters, it is about being passionate about riding and having a desire to learn and grow.
The flock of turkeys finished crossing the path and I decided to be finished with my previous mindset. I am a serious cyclist and I can buy and wear whatever clothes I want and/or need to.
Which is a very, very good thing. And this is why…
I wore pants on my three day trip. Regular exercise pants. Which was fine until the last day when I biked all day long. By nightfall I was very sore. But that was not the worst part.
The worst part was when I woke up at 3:30 the next morning and tried to bike to work. I used the word “tried” in that sentence very intentionally, I did not actually bike to work. I used a bicycle to transport my body the ten miles to the restaurant but “biking” is not the right term for it. I don’t know if there is a correct term for it really. My body would not let me sit down on the saddle of my bike-it was too painful. So I rotated between several awkward, painful positions until the end of my journey.
Apparently, I like learning the hard way.