Cycling is something that is hard to explain to the non-cyclist. Yes, I shave my legs . . . I’m a cyclist. I usually get confused looks and some people just smile, while others come up with a question about riding bicycles real fast. I can’t explain how I ended up where I am. I fell into the sport. I purchased a Schwinn hybrid from a big box store, not knowing anything about bikes, just that the wheels were cool. It weighed a little less than a small truck, and it wasn’t long before I discovered that it wouldn’t work, compared to what I was seeing in the local group rides. So, after a few months of that, I sold a four-wheeler and discussed the rest of the finances with my chief financial officer (my wife of 25 years). I ended up buying a used Trek Madone 3.1 and felt as if I had peddled my way into heaven; after all, I was moving from the outhouse to well . . . the front yard of the penthouse.
There are many things that I had to learn. For example, no one had told me that I needed to hydrate and eat while riding. And so it goes that I decided to ride one beautiful Saturday morning on a course of 50 miles. Around mile 44, I knew that something was wrong. “Keep peddling if you want to get better,” I told myself. It wasn’t long until I experienced my first “bonk.” For a few minutes, I couldn’t even remember how to use my cell phone to call my wife. Eventually, she arrived and helped me load my bike. Being a registered nurse, she could tell what was wrong and brought me a large sports drink and peanut butter cookies. I don’t know why cyclists don’t communicate more, when it comes to the basics. Elitists? Don’t care? Didn’t ask? Whatever the reasons are, helping others is a necessary part of humanity.