Envy

You know the feeling -- you're traveling somewhere, you hear the familiar clatter of a gear shift or the sizz of a freewheel, and there you are, watching a cyclist fly past you, decked out in full kit and totally focused on the ride. Or, you're in the middle of your commute, trapped in your car for another session with National Public Radio, and there they are, a flock of brightly clad cyclists, chatting and laughing and working out the pack structure.

These encounters usually come when there is no recourse, no way to gain access to a bike, no time to ride, no way out of the current situation, yet when the urge to ride is high. Usually, time pressures or business travel have forced an unpleasant choice, a week off or a glorious, sun-drenched morning without a ride.

The empathy for the cyclists you observe is immediate. The focus and energy they throw off is easy to feel, and you know how it is to possess those traits, to feel the power of a strong hill climb, the speed of a fast paceline, and the adrenal kick of a quick descent. Intensity radiates from these cyclists, a blaze of energy and determination you hope to reignite soon.

In the midst of this envy, there is also the obligatory scrutiny. What brand of bike? What level of equipment? What brands? Any interesting new lights or gadgets? How fit are they? How young or old? Are they dressed correctly for the weather? Are they at the beginning of their ride or nearing the end? Could you ride with them? Would they trash you? Or slow you down?

These thoughts flash by too quickly to observe clearly, but they do flash through your mind, even in the midst of open envy, and they mitigate the jealous feelings to some extent, especially if the cyclists in question are obviously riding worse equipment too slowly and look cold and tired. That subtext to the observation ameliorates the sting of envy. It's not noble, but it is true. We're all petty at times.

However, most cyclists observed from afar are fit, fast, and riding nice bikes. They are happier than you are, because they are focused and active, and doing something that completely absorbs them. You know this happiness, and you admire it in them, and envy them for it.

In this sense, envy in cycling is like a one-way mirror. When you are riding, your focus obscures the outside world to some extent, boiling it down to navigation, obstacles, noises, and terrain, a set of external factors competing only slightly with the pack you're riding in or with your solo ride. You don't have the spare attention to observe the hangdog looks from the earthbound cyclists you pass, the knowledgeable scrutiny they give you, the second looks from the passersby who are a little more fit than usual, and who pay more attention than usual to the passing cyclists. Because there is nothing to envy, you don't peer out from the cycling world. You are where you want to be. Why look beyond? But from the seat of envy, you are an observer, not a participant, and like watching a psychology experiment, you can only jot high-minded notes without visceral involvement in the activity. You become a cycling academic, a quasi-professional attendant to the sport.

All of this aside, there is just the smoldering envy as you are left in the dust, standing roadside or trapped in a vehicle. Nurture the feeling. You will soon be the source of envy for someone you don't even know, someone you won't even see, and you will be purified of your sour envy when that time comes.