The saying goes that there are two kinds of cyclists: those who have crashed and those who will crash. In 2013, I ended a 25-year streak of staying upright and crashed three times, breaking more bones in my body than I had in 20-plus years of playing rugby. When asked by friends and family if I would get back in the saddle, my immediate response was “of course.” Their looks of bewilderment have made me wonder what it is that I love about cycling. It could be the fitness aspect or the fact it is the only way I have ever successfully lost weight. It could be the daily reminder of how fortunate I feel to live in Vermont as I ride
Addison County’s quiet country roads. Perhaps it is the burning in my legs and lungs as I crest a gap and live up to the cycling mantra of “if you’re not suffering, you’re not doing it right.” It might be the satisfaction of keeping up with “those guys,” or simply the enjoyment of meeting close friends at sunrise on brisk mornings for a pre-work ride. Or maybe it is the Zen of pedaling and propelling yourself down the road through your own means, totally disconnected from our wired society.
No, I think the essence of what makes cycling special is that every ride takes you back to a moment in your childhood when you first discovered cycling and the freedom and independence that came along with it. All my children have discovered it at one moment or another and promptly took advantage of exploring their surroundings, escaping to friends’ houses or disappearing into the woods. I have been off my bike for a week because my doctor, and riding buddy, just removed the pins from my elbow from one of last year’s accidents. Even though I know some of my kids and friends will fall at some point, I can’t wait to be back in the saddle next week, feel the fresh Vermont air on my face, and revel in that sense of freedom that we all remember from childhood.