My bicycle had a bag of carrots attached to it. The man in the online video had a streamlined outfit, a carefully analyzed training interval and a face suggesting that carrots would introduce unacceptable aerodynamic uncertainty.
We were doing different things with bicycles. This should not require an argument, and yet the language of performance has a remarkable ability to wander into every conversation about riding. A trip to the shops becomes a workout to optimize. A comfortable pace becomes an apology. Somehow I am expected to justify arriving home without a personal best.
I like sport. I also like dinner. My ordinary cycling needs to leave room for the second activity.
The errand has its own finish line
A useful shop ride ends with groceries where I need them and a rider willing to make another trip. That is a perfectly respectable result. The route, carrying arrangement and timing should serve it. I do not need to transform the outing into an audition for a different hobby.
When I first began using a bike for more daily journeys, I paid far too much attention to speed and far too little to the practical nuisance at either end. Where would the bike go? How would I carry the awkward purchase? Would I want to negotiate that busy stretch again when I was tired?
Those questions mattered more to repetition than the number on an app. A pleasant, manageable ride was easier to fit into the next week. An unpleasant one could be impressively fast and still leave me reaching for another form of transport tomorrow.
I began keeping notes about convenience instead. A place to stop. A bag arrangement that did not require repacking every time. A route whose difficult parts I could consider in advance, using current local information and the rules that applied to the street. My experience was still personal; I did not assume a comfortable arrangement for me would suit every rider.
Ordinary clothing is not a moral failing
The performance mood also turned getting dressed into a negotiation. Did I own the right jacket? Was I using the bike correctly if I was wearing the clothes I intended to wear at the destination? The questions grew far more elaborate than the journey.
Weather, visibility, comfort and appropriate safety equipment deserve attention. That does not mean every short errand requires adopting a sporting identity. I can choose what suits the conditions and the ride without narrating my entire existence as training.
There is pleasure in arriving somewhere by bike and simply being there. I park, buy the ingredients, talk to someone and leave. The trip belongs to the day instead of becoming a separate performance that the day must organize itself around.
A friend recently asked how far I had cycled that week. I could remember where I had gone more readily than the total distance: work, a market, a visit, the shop that had the bread we wanted. That seemed like a reasonable way to recognize a life.
The carrots made it home. One had escaped slightly from the bag and acquired an unnecessarily dramatic angle. We cooked them. The bicycle waited for its next useful job, showing no interest whatsoever in a podium.
If you enjoy chasing a record, have a good ride. If you enjoy collecting dinner, there is room for your ride too.
A thought worth keeping?
