I weighed myself this morning and I’ve dropped a bit, down to 203.4 lbs. Imagine if I actually get into a consistent exercise routine. I might actually lose enough weight to comfortably ride a bike for a long time. In classic Woody Allen fashion, that potential success has me worried. What if I actually do manage to become a consistent road cyclist? I have some real reservations about the whole cyclist thing:
1. The Clothes
Let’s face it, cyclists wear stretchy, tight clothes. Unless you have a real cyclist’s body, those clothes just can’t look good. The bibs are just really tight, spandex shorts. If I went out for a walk or grocery shopping in tight spandex shorts old ladies would gasp, real men would stare, and mothers would shield their children’s eyes from the sight of me. I might even be asked to go home and change. Southerners are generally polite, but they’ll protect their women and children when they need to. Another possibility is that I’d simply be arrested, taken to a dark room, and beaten with a hose. Finally, and most likely, the county sheriff would grab me, shove me in his cruiser, drive me to the county line, and dump me on the side of the road leaving me with a curt “We don’t do that shit in Lexington County, son. Not on my watch.”
The jerseys aren’t much better. I tried on a swim shirt this summer and it looked like I was pregnant. A cycling jersey is going to look just about the same. Let’s face it, bulgy people like me just shouldn’t go around wearing close-fitting clothing. It’s just not socially acceptable and I know it.
Everyone knows that only slim people should wear cycling gear. I am afraid that if I get some before I am something other than obese I will be exposed for the wannabe that I really am. You know what I am, I know what I am, but I don’t want everyone to know it.
2. It takes a lot of time
Serious cycling is not something that you do a couple of times a month. It takes a huge investment of time. I had a roommate in graduate school who was a pretty serious road cyclist and he’d go ride for hours a day. Hours a day! If he skipped a ride, he’d act like one of those heroin addicts you see in movies (in my line of work I don’t see drug addicts, so all I’ve got are celluloid stereotypes as points of reference). He’d get agitated, sweaty, and a little mean. Come to think of it, that is how I get when I don’t have coffee. That is definitely how my wife gets if she can’t get to the internet. Maybe I do have some real-life points of reference after all.
Besides a job and a wife, I have two little kids. We home school so time when I am not working is usually devoted to some or all of my family. Sure, road cycling can be a family thing. But to be a really cool road cyclist, you can’t spend all of your time joy riding with your kids. You’ve got to devote hours. Plus, I’ll never overcome the problems outlined in #1 above if I just joy ride with my kids.
This investment worries me. This may require more of me than I have to give. What if my wife looses interest in me because I am on the open road too much? Even worse, what if I have other cycling friends who look better in their bibs than I do? Or what if my wife looses interest in me after seeing me in MY bibs? What if I am gone so much that my kids forget my name? I just don’t know if it would be worth it.
3. The gear isn’t cheap
Cycling equipment is expensive. A good bike alone could cost my family the yearly Disney trip. But that is just the start. You can’t just jump on your fancy new road bike in your Levis
Once I get really good (which you know I will if I really apply myself) then I’ll need support staff: a chef, masseuse, sports psychologist, mechanic, etc. Really, once I reach that level, how can I be expected to have a full-time job? I guess I could fit my wife into that staff. She already acts as my psychologist and she could be my masseuse. At least I might salvage my marriage. Maybe I can start training the kids now. My daughter is a pretty good cook. With a bit of culinary training, she could be my chef. My son loves tools. Maybe I can send him off to learn to be a bike mechanic. Maybe this will work after all.
4. I may hate it
Here is the really big one. What if I decide that I hate serious cycling? I ran track in high school. I was a distance runner—the mile, two mile, and two mile relay. I also ran 10K road races. Looking back on it, I remember it being a lot of work and a lot of pain. What I loved most about it was the camaraderie and the sense of accomplishment. I didn’t really enjoy the punishment. Come on now, think about it. Cyclists are really masochists. They love to punish themselves, to see how much they can endure. They take pride in the amount of self-inflicted torture they can endure. Is that healthy? Anyway, I don’t need to spend all kinds of money (see #3) and invest all kinds of time (see #2) just to torture myself. Hell, give me an electrical outlet and a glass of water. For that matter, just make me practice my profession. Make me go dig a site instead of making graduate students do it for me.
Maybe when my body is stronger I’ll get into the idea of pushing myself and seeing how hard I can work. Apparently I liked that sort of thing when I was a younger man. Right now as a complacent, inactive, somewhat successful person the idea of punishment and pain sounds a bit unappealing. Maybe I’ve become just a bit too soft and satisfied. Sounds like some more bootstrapping, owning my journey, and redoubling my effort is in order.
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