How does it feel to tackle a 60+ km ride after years off the bike? I can tell you from experience: pain.
But why do people invite pain? There’s pleasure in self-inflicted pain. It creates a tangible effect, unlike the mundane daily work for family, which shows little immediate return. Have you ever done something painful but pleasurable? For many, sports is one such activity.
I’ve been toying with the idea of bicycling again. Every day, I look at my bike hanging in my green room. I promise myself I’ll order new tire tubes and start cycling again. It's been a year and a half. Finally, I got the tubes, installed them, and serviced the bike. Now it's ready to go. But yes, there was a lot of physical strain from doing something I hadn’t done in years.
In my prime, I often hit century rides. 100 km was never easy, and it never became a piece of cake. My road bike, with its ultra-slim profile designed for speed, wasn’t meant for potholed roads. Every small bump was felt in my shoulders, neck, and spine.
In my prime, I often hit century rides. 100 km was never easy, and it never became a piece of cake. My road bike, with its ultra-slim profile designed for speed, wasn’t meant for potholed roads. Every small bump was felt in my shoulders, neck, and spine.
But I did those long rides anyway, taking it all in stride. Those were my prime days when my body took the beating without much complaint. Now, at 62, as much as I convince myself that I’m fit, I’m not really sure if I’m "that" fit. The best way to know is by doing, right? So here I am, geared up.
This morning, ignoring suggestions to start easy with 5 or 10 km rides, I aimed for 25 km. But before I rolled out, I thought, what if I could do 50 km right away? This would help me reach the century faster, as long as I didn't push myself too hard.
It was an easy peasy 25 km on the Warangal Highway, my new favorite. Satisfied with this, I planned to turn back. But fate had other plans. The thought flashed: if I could make it to Bhongir Fort, I’d have a memorable ride. I knew it was around the corner. If I just rode a little further, I’d see the hill fort. And so on it went. Alas, I had to ride another 8 km. And, needless to say, an 8 km detour meant a 16 km addition to my ride.
On my return, I realized why the onward ride was easy peasy: there was a tailwind. So, the return had a headwind so strong that even on a downhill, the bike wouldn’t move without pedaling! To challenge me further, the rain god decided to bless me with a downpour right in front of me! The return was a killer.
Worse still, catching up after so long, I forgot to prepare my gear properly, leading to extreme chafing that made sitting on the saddle difficult. Towards the end of the trip, as I turned into Balaji Nagar Road, where my home is less than a couple of kilometers away, I felt my brain had become sluggish, like my wife's car with a check engine light. Physically, I knew if something unexpected happened, my mind wouldn’t react swiftly. This was further exemplified when, after eating food, my mind cleared up immediately. What an intelligent body we have! Despite my whole body aching and starving after the near 5-hour ordeal, it prioritized sending glucose to the brain first, just like those flight attendant announcements to wear your oxygen mask first before helping a child.
So there were aches, chafing, burns, tight muscles giving cramps, and exhaustion. But this was expected, right? In fact, I also had moderate fever in the evening. But it subsided by next day. I assume the fever has less to do with riding per se than the rain I was lightly soaked. So, we come back to the question: why do people voluntarily invite pain? It’s the pleasure of success. The pleasure of confirming to oneself that they are capable of more. Just a confirmation!
PS: I wrote this blog on the day of my ride, on July 23, but took few more days to do some editing.
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