As you may know, last Sunday I completed a 127 mile bike race in the Berkshires.  Today I woke up at 500 AM to tackle a 200 mile race in Solvang, California.  This is an event for which I’ve been training all year; the Santa Ynez Valley, in which the ride takes place, is stunningly beautiful, and I’m as fit as I’ve ever been.

It was a little chilly when I got on the road, but everything was par for the course for the first 14 miles.  Then, while descending at 41 MPH I felt my bike hit something hard, and next thing I knew my headlight had snapped clear off my handlebars, my water bottle had flown out off its cage, and both my tires had gone completely flat.  I am pretty certain that the only reason I didn’t crash–and likely break several bones–is that I am a fairly experienced rider.

My Race Bike

Painful. Dangerous. Frustrating.  Exhilitarting.  Exhausting. Blissful. Expensive.  You can apply pretty much any adjective to the experience of cycling long distances, and that’s probably why I love the sport so much: it is rare to find activities that make you feel so alive.

If you talk to most avid cyclists, the conversation will quickly turn to gear, to tactics, to nutriton; cycling is a sport for nerds, one in which aderodynamics, strength-to-weight ratio and watts per kilogram are a standard part of the nomenclature.  But cycling is a also a sport for those with mental fortitude, for when you are riding it is just you, your thoughts and the road; no one can push your pedals for you or make the miles tick away faster.  Sure, you can draft off other riders or chat with them, but the high-mileage cyclist inevitably spends a lot of hours riding by him or herself with nothing but the next strip of road to focus on.  When you are feeling well, it feels like you aren’t even pedaling, like there isn’t even a bicycle beneath you and that you are simpy floating across the terrain.  On days when your legs are sore, you body or mind weary, every rotation of the pedals is a struggle.

Either way, the ride is the ride, a panoply of human experience in motion.  This morning I rode 34 miles and felt terrible, yet it was wonderful.  Last Monday I rode 30 miles and felt fantastatic, yet it was wonderful.  There have been times where I have approached heat exhaustion or frost bite, where the rain has pounded me into submission, or when the wind has whipped me into a fury of frustration.  And still, every day I think about that feeling of freedom when you are on the road at 15 – 20 MPH, and suddenly all the other things go away, leaving you with the clarity that comes from a singular mission: pedal with your legs, change gears, and presto!  Magic.

Sometimes cycling is the greatest thing in the world.  And sometimes it’s not.  Today I learned a very important lesson: if it’s 90 degrees out and humid, don’t go for a 36 mile bike ride at 11 AM.  You know, because that entails riding during the hottest time of the day.  As you can see from the photo, I was quite beat when I got home.  The good news it that, now that I’ve showered and cooled off, I feel great.  But yea, next time I’ll ride in the morning or the evening.  Below are the stats from the ride (notice the average temperature):

Distance: 36.08 mi

Time: 2:20:32

Avg Speed: 15.4 mph

Elevation Gain:1,411 ft

Calories: 2,322

Avg Temperature: 91.5 °F

A Photo of My Race Bike!

Why is it that we sometimes struggle to find time to do the things we most love?  In my case, that something is cycling, and the challenge has always been that, unlike running, going for a bike ride takes some preparation.  You have to make sure your bike is in good shape–tires pumped, chain lubed–fill your water bottles, change into your cycling gear, have a snack and bring food to eat on the ride.  In short, it’s very easy to justify not going for a ride when the day is long and stressful and the alternative is reading or lounging at home.  But once I get out on the road, well, everything changes: there is something magical about propelling myself forward at 15 – 30 miles per hour just with the power in my legs, the air in my lungs and the blood in my veins.

Fortunately, one of my employees, Jake, is a former semi-professional bike racer, and we’ve begun training together.  What’s interesting is that the behavioral psychology of having someone with whom to train is very powerful: i’m far less likely to bail on a ride with someone else than I am to decide not to do a ride by myself.  This makes me wonder about how else we can use these principles to improve the effectiveness of Capital Good Fund’s products and services, but it also makes me excited to finally make time in my life to do something that brings me so much joy!

A little over a month ago I went through another one of my down periods, during which I felt incapable of doing anything.  For a while I was afraid that I would find it impossible to complete my thesis, and I was also very disappointed with the fact that I had once again ceased riding my bike.  When I finally started feeling better, I quietly resolved to ride my bike at least an hour a day, not so that I could achieve glory in cycling, but more importantly so that I would avoid falling into periods of inactivity.  Granted, I had already tried this before, with rather unimpressive results: I made it about 20 days into the goal before I started overtraining (feeling tired, having trouble sleeping, etc) and had to stop.  Yet something felt different this time: I was riding, not with the aim of becoming the fittest cycling in the world, but rather with the goal of feeling fit and happy.  With that positive attitude, I started riding, and I haven’t stopped since.  Yesterday I completed by 30th consecutive ride, and not only have I lost some weight, but I also feel very fit, very happy and I have managed to do all this without the usual overtraining!

I was thrilled to reach this milestone yesterday, and indeed the first 35 miles of the ride were absolutely beautiful: my friend Mike and I rode a good, hard pace over country roads in Massachusetts, the weather was great, and I felt really strong.  Unfortunately, as we were cruising back to where we had parked our cars (finally enjoying a tailwind) we both went down at one of the worst railroad crossing I’ve ever ridden across.  Pictures and details after the jump.