"When the weather is bad and the fitness is low, cycling can be it's most beautiful". Pro cyclist Michael Barry of Columbia High Road made this comment during a discussion about off-season training. While most of us cyclists can think of moments when we suffered through a tough ride against the elements, not many can explain why to those outside of our masochistic world.
What makes George Hincapie (pictured right) suffer over more than 200km's of cobblestones, mud, and dirt at Paris Roubaix and then come back for more? What makes the commuter get up in the morning and slog through rain and sometimes snow on a folding bike and then tell his co-workers how awesome the ride was? Why do we Twitter obsesively about our pain and stuggles using words like "epic" and "suffering"?
We cyclists are masochists cut from a special fabric. We see the impossible and say "why not?". We ride the delicate line of joy and pain. We find joy in expending thousands more calories during a ride than we could possibly consume over one day. We dodge careless drivers on the battlefields of streets and deserted roads. We subject our bodies to more stress than they are designed to handle. We ride the fine line of riding near or at our limits and pushing ourselves over the edge until our bodies rebel against us and shut down. Road rash and bruises are battle scars we tell stories about over coffee. We line up at local criterium races or in front of millions at the Tour de France like Gladiators.
Pain may be what we feel in the moment. Joy is what we share through our common bond of experience.
