My last post was full of anxiety. Full of self-imposed pressure that was slowing sucking the enjoyment out of one of the most enjoyable things I’ve ever known: riding my bike.
I was worried that I wasn’t “training” long enough, hard enough, or often enough to be ready for London to Paris. That number on the board was like a noose tightening every day. So the morning after I wrote about “my countdown” I went into my office and erased the number. No more countdown. And believe it or not, I felt instant relief.
In the last several weeks I’ve done all kinds of riding: commuting on a bike that weighs about 50 pounds fully loaded; riding in the rain and riding at night; riding on the flat streets of Chicago and most recently on the hillier terrain of areas an hour’s drive away. I’ve been inside on the rollers, and outside alone and with others. Sometimes riding easy and sometimes pushing myself past what I previously thought were my physical limits.
And you know what I’ve discovered? That’s my training… not training at all. Just riding. As often and as much as I can, in as many different ways that I can. On whichever bike I feel like riding at the moment. And I feel amazing.
I’ve also discovered something else. I love riding at night. It’s really not something I’ve done until recently, but I love how the city feels completely different at night. Quieter… softer in a way.
I plan on doing a lot more…a lot more of all of it. If I thought about it I could quickly figure out how many days left until the big ride.
But really, who cares?