Frames of Mind
After a few years of renewed cycling, the seasonal build to one or more peaks of fitness has shown me that part of the joy comes from rediscovering and rebuilding the frames of mind necessary to ride at high speeds, climb long hills, and plan complicated training protocols, and translating these into other domains, such as family, work, or life in general. For me, cycling not only fortifies the body, it informs the mind with models and habits that help me adapt, cope, and gain an advantage.
One of the most divergent frames of mind a cycling season hones comes from climbing. We live in a culture of instant gratification and elimination of physical exertion -- escalators, moving sidewalks, and automatic doors. Exerting effort to grapple with a physical reality is less and less common. Distance, mass, and leverage are often handled by motorized systems. Climbing a long hill or set of hills on a bicycle sweeps all this away. You are alone, the climb will take many minutes, you have to pay attention throughout it all and work the entire time, and it can hurt. There is often silence, punctuated by your labored breathing and the sound of gears and tires.
The mental benefits of a season of climbing are many. I think it instills a tenacity and toughness that is unusual in the modern world. It teaches patience and delivers the lesson of work and reward. I have found myself shunning the moving sidewalks and elevators, taking the stairs and walking the entire concourse because I'm now a bit uncomfortable with abetted effort. Hard work is its own reward, I've been reminded. Success isn't easy, and getting it without earning it cheapens the achievement. Climbing humbles you, and puts you solidly back in the real world, not the modern world with its contrivances and softness. Climbing toughens you up again, physically and mentally. It makes you unafraid of a challenge that may look daunting at first, teaching you that persistence and effort can prevail.
Endurance rides create a different frame of mind, and one that I can call upon when needed to handle challenges off the bike. Riding a century teaches pacing, planning, and measured exertion. If you go all-out at the start of a century, you will likely pay a price about 2/3 of the way through, when you either bonk or cramp, or both. Starting out at a more moderate pace, realizing the effort is long, and pacing yourself is really the way to go. The fastest centuries I've ridden have been the ones on which I've purposely paced myself.
Long rides with groups also teach you about teamwork, and often with lessons that are more direct than those in the abstract areas of business, education, or home life. Feeling the benefit of a paceline, being heartened by a "good pull" as you shift off, or getting a bit of energy bar from a fellow rider all bring the joy of teamwork down to a level that is visceral and pure.
Riding long events also teaches you about planning, especially for resources. Nutrition and equipment are the keys here. Over long courses, weather can change, you get thirsty and hungry, and if you don't plan well, you can find yourself without a tube, a rain jacket, a gel, or a drink when you need one. Having real-world lessons about this at my age is helpful. These lessons ground you in a reality that I think shines through in other settings because you totally grasp some of the key concepts of resource planning, pacing over the long haul, and working together. I've often found myself over the last few years being the only person in a group who thought ahead to bring exactly the item needed after a few hours. In the modern world of conveniences, people are forgetting how to pack.
Sprinting and speed work also teach lessons about intensity, timing, and limits. If you've ever mis-timed a sprint attack, and run out of gas before the town line, you've felt, rather painfully, the reality of not estimating limits correctly. But, if you sprint without the proper intensity, you get beaten. Sprinting teaches you to bring things together at the right time, the right place, and at the right pitch.
The physical realities of cycling leave a deep imprint in the minds of attentive cyclists. I've seen people change as they've explored cycling. The modern world works to put layers of technology, services, and convenience between you and physical reality. Cycling blows all these away, and gets your mind re-engaged with the fundamental elements of physics, physiology, and time. These teach your mind to be normal again. You regain your sanity in a subtle but important way, and that's an important frame of mind with which to approach the world.
One of the most divergent frames of mind a cycling season hones comes from climbing. We live in a culture of instant gratification and elimination of physical exertion -- escalators, moving sidewalks, and automatic doors. Exerting effort to grapple with a physical reality is less and less common. Distance, mass, and leverage are often handled by motorized systems. Climbing a long hill or set of hills on a bicycle sweeps all this away. You are alone, the climb will take many minutes, you have to pay attention throughout it all and work the entire time, and it can hurt. There is often silence, punctuated by your labored breathing and the sound of gears and tires.
The mental benefits of a season of climbing are many. I think it instills a tenacity and toughness that is unusual in the modern world. It teaches patience and delivers the lesson of work and reward. I have found myself shunning the moving sidewalks and elevators, taking the stairs and walking the entire concourse because I'm now a bit uncomfortable with abetted effort. Hard work is its own reward, I've been reminded. Success isn't easy, and getting it without earning it cheapens the achievement. Climbing humbles you, and puts you solidly back in the real world, not the modern world with its contrivances and softness. Climbing toughens you up again, physically and mentally. It makes you unafraid of a challenge that may look daunting at first, teaching you that persistence and effort can prevail.
Endurance rides create a different frame of mind, and one that I can call upon when needed to handle challenges off the bike. Riding a century teaches pacing, planning, and measured exertion. If you go all-out at the start of a century, you will likely pay a price about 2/3 of the way through, when you either bonk or cramp, or both. Starting out at a more moderate pace, realizing the effort is long, and pacing yourself is really the way to go. The fastest centuries I've ridden have been the ones on which I've purposely paced myself.
Long rides with groups also teach you about teamwork, and often with lessons that are more direct than those in the abstract areas of business, education, or home life. Feeling the benefit of a paceline, being heartened by a "good pull" as you shift off, or getting a bit of energy bar from a fellow rider all bring the joy of teamwork down to a level that is visceral and pure.
Riding long events also teaches you about planning, especially for resources. Nutrition and equipment are the keys here. Over long courses, weather can change, you get thirsty and hungry, and if you don't plan well, you can find yourself without a tube, a rain jacket, a gel, or a drink when you need one. Having real-world lessons about this at my age is helpful. These lessons ground you in a reality that I think shines through in other settings because you totally grasp some of the key concepts of resource planning, pacing over the long haul, and working together. I've often found myself over the last few years being the only person in a group who thought ahead to bring exactly the item needed after a few hours. In the modern world of conveniences, people are forgetting how to pack.
Sprinting and speed work also teach lessons about intensity, timing, and limits. If you've ever mis-timed a sprint attack, and run out of gas before the town line, you've felt, rather painfully, the reality of not estimating limits correctly. But, if you sprint without the proper intensity, you get beaten. Sprinting teaches you to bring things together at the right time, the right place, and at the right pitch.
The physical realities of cycling leave a deep imprint in the minds of attentive cyclists. I've seen people change as they've explored cycling. The modern world works to put layers of technology, services, and convenience between you and physical reality. Cycling blows all these away, and gets your mind re-engaged with the fundamental elements of physics, physiology, and time. These teach your mind to be normal again. You regain your sanity in a subtle but important way, and that's an important frame of mind with which to approach the world.
posted by Recycled Cyclist | 5:03 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home