On being a bike rider

No real science here. No training tips or dietary revelations. Just a few paragraphs to wax poetic. Humor me. I'll get back to business next post.

Yesterday evening was one of those days when it's great to be a cyclist. Yes, my competitive season is over and done and I'm doing a few other things like hiking and lifting weights. But I'm still riding my bike and last night was simply perfect. It was one of those times where perfect temps, perfect light and still wind come together in conditions similar to a powder day on skis.

Now, I'll admit, cycling rarely provides that visceral, dare I say, soul-enriching experience we get skiing untracked snow in blower conditions but it comes close once in awhile. The road, obstacles and traffic will always limit this potential on a bike. Sometimes, though, a window opens where these distractions fade away and it's just great to be cruising along on carbon fiber. I catch myself smiling.

At the end of a long season I'm left with a fitness base that enhances these moments, allowing me to fly along, feeling strong and fast. Autumn is when this happens most often and the season's change is surely in the air in the Tetons right now. A few more of these rides will certainly come my way. I hope so, anyway.

It's funny. As I make the transition into the off-season and start doing activities other than riding a bike, I develop a bit of an identity crisis. For better or worse, I, like many athletes, partially define myself by my physicality and my achievements in the athletic realm. I'm sure some shrink will tell me how unhealthy this is. The price of this dysfunction is paid by injured or retired athletes as they face inevitable events and then lose this identity.

For better or worse, identifying ourselves in this way is an unavoidable human trait. Witness the race t-shirts people wear and the various other symbols present on our bodies, walls and car bumpers representing important monuments along our way. These tie us to seminal events in our lives and give us an important identity, perhaps even a link to a "tribe" that is less common and less vital for survival in society today. Disabled war veterans are often tattooed and continue to wear pieces of their uniform similar to crippled rodeo cowboys who sport their finest Western garb and huge belt buckles from, perhaps, better times. It keeps them grounded and sane.

As the weight workouts change my body, I'm feeling less like a cyclist and more like…well…something else. Am I a climber? A gym rat? Or simply, a cross-training, off-season bike rider? With next season firmly in my sights, I guess I'll claim the latter. But when I look into the mirror, I'm starting to look less like a cyclist. The scale indicates a shift, as well. Weird what that does to my head. I'll probably hit 180 pounds before long, up from a season average of 170.

This effect of lifting on the physique is something feared by professional cyclists. Many will simply not do any upper body work for fear of being heavy when the new season commences. I understand that. But my experience from a few years ago showed me that the bulk can be shed. I dropped twelve pounds in 5 weeks when I started training seriously on the bike and quit lifting. What the body no longer needs it gets rid of. It will be an interesting experiment. 

I did not gain any weight the past two off-seasons. I stayed skinny and weak. But there is this part of me that hates being so specialized. So, I'll indulge my insecurities and beef up for awhile. Aside from feeding my dysfunction it'll probably serve to correct some imbalances in my physique that arise from engaging in such an athletically narrow activity. Aside from hiking uphill, cycling prepares us for little else. And that's fine as long as your body handles it and you don't try to do something stupid like walk downhill or pick up something heavier than your floor pump.

This is just the point that hybrid outfits like Crossfit repeatedly make. From a fitness standpoint, we can do only one thing well. Hybrid athletes, on the other hand, prepare for "the unknown and the unknowable." Think combat, here. No, our upper body's weak and pathetic. We can't dead lift shit or do very many pull ups. A power clean would break us in half.

But who cares? We don't. Yeah, those hybrid dudes are pretty good at a lot of stuff and certainly look better with their shirts off but not one of them will hold our wheel when the hammer drops on some climb. Come next spring, that's all I'll care about. Hopefully I'll be shedding pounds like Oprah on a juice fast getting a colonic! - Brian