Over the years, I have come to realize that there we have rationales, and we have our motivatons, for cycling.
The rationales are the reasons why we say we ride: You can get to work faster than you can on the bus. It's less expensive than even mass transportation, let alone driving, even if you are one of those people who will commute or go to the store only on top-of-the-line equipment. When you pedal, there is one less motorized vehicle on the road--which, of course, is good for the environment. And, it's good for your heart, lungs and everything else in your body (well, almost). Hey, I know of people who gave up their gym memberships after they started cycling to work.
Now, of course, those are all perfectly good reasons to ride. But I don't think anyone--even one who fancies him or her self an environmentalist or a "health nut"--has ever become a "lifer" on the bike only because of such rationales.
In much the same way that the things that the things you live on are not the same as the things you live for, the things that keep us cycling for decades have more to do with our motivations. Some of them can be the spawn of rationales: You might keep on riding because it's helping you to breathe or sleep better, or it's saving you money. But I think that if we keep on riding from childhood into old age (even when other forms of transportation and exercise are available to us), the things that motivate us are not nearly so pragmatic.
The greatest motivator for me is, of course, that I love cycling. I have not found any other activity that allows me to spread my wings and keep my feet on the ground at the same time: I feel the exhiliaration of gliding through the city and country and a connection, if not entanglement, with the ground or the street under me. And it frees my mind: I sometimes find myself working through a problem or simply generating an idea that I couldn't when I was in my apartment or at my desk.
I suspect that most lifetime cyclists (or, at least, people who ride for as long as they are able) are spurred by the sort of motivation I've described. A former partner once observed that for me, cycling is as much a spiritual or metaphysical experience as it is anything else. The long ride I took every Saturday was, she said, "your equivalent of church".
Now, I'm not a very religious person, but I understood what she meant. For me, cycling has always been expansive: My mind is as free to move as my body is when I'm astride two wheels.
I must say, though, that not all of my thoughts are profound. (You know as much about me if you've been following this blog!) Sometimes my mind plays, or I simply get giddy or silly. But even in my most mirthful moments, I have never come up with the sort of riddle this creature is pondering:
Yes, I give him or her "props" for that. But then again, he or she has had 40 million more years than I've had to come up with such a witticism!
The rationales are the reasons why we say we ride: You can get to work faster than you can on the bus. It's less expensive than even mass transportation, let alone driving, even if you are one of those people who will commute or go to the store only on top-of-the-line equipment. When you pedal, there is one less motorized vehicle on the road--which, of course, is good for the environment. And, it's good for your heart, lungs and everything else in your body (well, almost). Hey, I know of people who gave up their gym memberships after they started cycling to work.
Now, of course, those are all perfectly good reasons to ride. But I don't think anyone--even one who fancies him or her self an environmentalist or a "health nut"--has ever become a "lifer" on the bike only because of such rationales.
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| Professor on a bicycle |
In much the same way that the things that the things you live on are not the same as the things you live for, the things that keep us cycling for decades have more to do with our motivations. Some of them can be the spawn of rationales: You might keep on riding because it's helping you to breathe or sleep better, or it's saving you money. But I think that if we keep on riding from childhood into old age (even when other forms of transportation and exercise are available to us), the things that motivate us are not nearly so pragmatic.
The greatest motivator for me is, of course, that I love cycling. I have not found any other activity that allows me to spread my wings and keep my feet on the ground at the same time: I feel the exhiliaration of gliding through the city and country and a connection, if not entanglement, with the ground or the street under me. And it frees my mind: I sometimes find myself working through a problem or simply generating an idea that I couldn't when I was in my apartment or at my desk.
I suspect that most lifetime cyclists (or, at least, people who ride for as long as they are able) are spurred by the sort of motivation I've described. A former partner once observed that for me, cycling is as much a spiritual or metaphysical experience as it is anything else. The long ride I took every Saturday was, she said, "your equivalent of church".
Now, I'm not a very religious person, but I understood what she meant. For me, cycling has always been expansive: My mind is as free to move as my body is when I'm astride two wheels.
I must say, though, that not all of my thoughts are profound. (You know as much about me if you've been following this blog!) Sometimes my mind plays, or I simply get giddy or silly. But even in my most mirthful moments, I have never come up with the sort of riddle this creature is pondering:
Yes, I give him or her "props" for that. But then again, he or she has had 40 million more years than I've had to come up with such a witticism!
