Starting is the Hardest Part

Ever feel like it’s a struggle to just get started...with anything? 

That sums up the last year or so with regards to my randonneuring.  I have been saying

“maybe next year” for more years than I care to count, and after a series of unfortunate events over the months of February and March, well… here I am again.  The Rouleur Series, the first 200km

brevets, and now the first 300km brevet, are firmly in the “didn’t go” column.  Why can’t I

“just go” anymore?

Is this a BAD thing, though? Is anyone keeping score? Eh, probably a “no” answer for

both of those questions.  I’m not trying to recapture some bygone magic nor am I trying

to hold on to a disappearing youth – no, I genuinely find myself still being drawn toward

long-distance cycling, and I truly still enjoy starting and ending my workday on a bicycle.

I do, however, still tend toward the extreme, and I am most definitely too hard on myself

even in the best of circumstances.

Case in point, after finding myself with a new employer, one who is very supportive of

the bicycling lifestyle, was it good enough to simply enjoy riding back and forth to work

again after spending the pandemic years indoors and occasionally getting in a lunch-

time ride? No, it wasn’t good enough: I had to start keeping score. This practice is

especially foolish when nobody else cares, and even more so when I become my own worst cheerleader. 

Let’s forget for a moment that this last winter in Kansas City was

perhaps one of the gnarliest in recent memory, with weeks of single-digit (F) temps, ice,

wind, and more snow that I can remember in the last decade; yet, I never once thought that

taking a break would be allowed … as if I needed permission from some unseen,

unheard stakeholder.  Instead of using a car to get to the office with some grace and

self-forgiveness, it became a point of stress.  Bah.  After a very consistent summer of commutes, it only took a few days into the first bout of bad weather before I finally came to

my senses and tossed the tracking spreadsheet into the recycle bin.  A streak is great,

and sometimes fun… but, when the mental health toll takes a bad turn, best to set it

aside.  It doesn’t matter.

Of course, this is coming from someone who loves a good streak, be it days to the office

or number of months with a long ride, sign me up … until I start beating myself up about

it, everything is great.  That’s just part of my personality type, I suppose, and in some

ways it’s good for accountability … but it seems like in the last few years I have

forgotten how to force myself to do things that I – ultimately – know I enjoy.  I plan and

cancel more rides than I actually do, which is not something I used to even consider.

Rain, shine, snow sometimes … I would “just go”.

Perhaps this is the sad lament of many-a-fifty-year-old would-be pastime quitter.  Those

early mornings, shivering cold starts, lonely gas station sidewalks … what was the point

exactly? Is it really more satisfying to sit behind the computer and plan, sit behind the

steering wheel of the support vehicle and watch others do as I once did? Is that “enough?”

Lately, it seems the answer is still – somehow – no.  It’s not enough.  Man,

slumps are difficult.

Sleeping in is so, so easy.  Staying warm is so, so comfortable … but nothing easy or

comfortable ever led to self-improvement, and that shows.  Not only has my tolerance

for discomfort diminished over the last few years, so has my fitness, and so has my

body weight increased.  Enter the crucible of friendly competition…

After the aforementioned rough couple of months, it finally began to dawn on me the

degree to which I use food as a stress management tool, often to ill effect.  Things really

got out of control with some serious digestive issues pinning me to the mat back in

February.  Thankfully, no permanent damage had been done, but I endured just enough

discomfort to turn the lights on to the issue and start making better decisions.  Shortly

afterwards, some coworkers began to hint around about an in-office weight loss

challenge.  Bingo.  As a tool that had worked well for me in the past, I was keen to put

some money down on myself and start getting more serious about things.  A small

amount of discomfort now, perhaps some positive reinforcement later… and, on cycling,

perhaps a little easier of a time getting back into things without the burden of suffering

through the initial slogs of carrying too much weight around.

It’s only early April, but things are indeed starting to trend in the right direction in every

sense.  Importantly, this time around I have decided to modify the framework of the

competition itself and worry only about my own results, instead of trying to outright win

or fall into unsustainable gamesmanship.  I need to keep this behavior consistent and

just make it “they way I eat”, and not something temporary for the sake of a contest.  So

far, so good … the positive reinforcement has me looking at the food in front of me with

a sense of how my future self will feel, instead of the temporary distraction it might

provide from whatever is stressing me out.  Of course, that energy must go somewhere,

right?

Exercise as stress relief, instead of food? Quite right.  While it’s still early days, and

recent weeks have proved challenging, the notion that commuting to and from work is

not something to simply tally, but a worthy, enjoyable pursuit that has strong mental

health benefits, has begun to take root.  If I truly enjoy it, and it helps clean out the

debris from a busy day, or help process a difficult situation, well… who cares how many

times I’ve done it in a row? It should be done as often as possible, no matter what!

That revised framework allows me time to look forward to it, instead of dreading having

to do it to keep a particular number alive … if I have to get into a car to drive to an

appointment, so be it; because I’m still doing what’s important for me, most of the time.

Moderation is key, in all things, after all.

…Except when it comes to randonneuring, of course.

Even as I write this, I’m aware of the ridiculousness of purposefully riding really, really

long distances on a bicycle for no other reason than to achieve that particular distance.

Still, after all this time, I find myself thinking about it, wanting to do it, and realizing that

not too long ago I was actually rather good at it.  Not fast, not terribly impressive… but a

finisher.  Amid all the previous discussion about moderation, self-care, letting go of

streaks, and riding for enjoyment, I still find that randonneuring is genuinely enjoyable in

its ridiculousness.  There is an intangible desire to explore the distant horizon, simply

because it is there, and as the temperatures continue to improve over the coming

weeks and the unforeseen challenges of the first quarter of this year begin to fade into

history, my hesitation begins to fall away.  Unfortunately, I’ve missed too many

opportunities to ride with the club, so, as I have done in the past I’ll simply need to

create my own opportunities and maybe intersect with the club rides at a later date … but that’s okay, and I’ve

done it before.  Accountability has always been a problem, but as I have started to yield

success in being accountable to my future self from a nutrition standpoint, so too must I

summon the will to be accountable to my future self from a health, fitness, and longevity

perspective.  As Bob Burns once said, so wisely and accurately: you don’t stop riding

because you get old, you get old because you stop riding.  Last I checked, I am still far

too young to think that I’m actually “too old” for anything … so, will I continue to

manufacture excuses, or will I actually show up for myself?  After all, nobody else is keeping

score … if I don’t mark my own name in the book, who will?

Getting started is the hardest part, yes … but, once I get started, I might actually get what

I'm really after … even if it’s cycling a really, really long way for no good reason.

Spring is here...again... and...well, life is short.  I don't want to wait any longer.