Lest We Forget

by John Whiteley, President 1995-1996

August 2000

An old, gravity-challenged cyclist stands up in front of a room of strangers.

"My name is John. I am a roadie."

For some reason, Yr. Obd’t. Svt. often feels like he’s a participant in a twelve-step program when the conversation comes down to what type of cycling he most enjoys. Yes, my favorite segment of our sport is the part that requires paved roads, with a strong sub-interest in touring.

For some reason or another, soft surfaces and cycling just don’t make it for me. It probably goes back to my last effort at mountain biking a few years back. Attempting to ride a trail on Signal Mountain, my first encounter was with two rocks that trapped my front wheel, causing a most inglorious dismount from the side of my trusty steed. Then, later that day, while trying to bunny-hop a log, the ominous sound of chain scraping on bark foretold the second major crash of the day. On arriving home, bruised and slightly bloody, comments were made about acting your age, etc. The mountain bike subsequently gathered dust hanging in the basement until it was loaned out to a friend in need of a bike.

But one doesn’t need a mountain bike to look foolish on soft surfaces! Two years ago my summer plans included a tour of southern Illinois and eastern Missouri. The route followed the path of that sad moment in American history, the Trail of Tears, when the Cherokee were evicted from their homes in Tennessee, Alabama, and Georgia and forcibly relocated to Oklahoma. The State of Missouri had graciously provided Department of the Interior maps of the route, and many a pleasant evening was spent measuring mileage, planning overnight stops, and just generally anticipating the trip. And what a glorious trip it was! Until Missouri, that is. Not that Missouri isn’t a very pretty place, with friendly inhabitants. No, that part was very pleasant. The problem came as Yr. Obd’t. Svt. realized that numbered county roads in Missouri are unpaved. Gravel, dirt, or worse. And this in the middle of the 1998 hear wave. Do you realize how much energy one expends pushing -- not riding, but pushing -- a fully loaded touring bike through deep gravel in 100+ degree temperatures? And you don’t even receive the benefit of a cooling breeze!

No, my preferred style of riding includes pavement, but this doesn’t exclude the other factions of our sport. In fact, a conversation with one of my co-workers yesterday revealed that he’s also an avid cyclist. He started out a roadie but became enamored with both the knobbies and triathlons. He lent me a couple of MTB magazines (just because mountain biking isn’t high on my list of favorite activities doesn’t mean I can’t read about it, does it?) and the sentiments expressed by one of the editors should be part of the mantra of every cyclist, roadie, mountain biker, downhiller, or tourist.

The editor of Bike magazine, writing about how the "Who Wants to Marry a Millionaire" mentality has affected our entire society, said, "...sometimes I see the sickness...steadily creeping into the place it belongs the least -- mountain biking." He says that he constantly gets questioned about what’s the best, lightest, coolest part to buy, and he replies that the answer is to put down the checkbook and go for a ride. Then he says, and this is the part that relates to all of us, "...biking, at its best, is about climbing aboard a bike, any bike, and turning the pedals. Fast or slow. Racer or free-rider. Impossibly fit cardio-freak or pudgy weekend warrior. Sometimes it’s easy to forget all that. Sometimes it’s easy to believe that the kind of bike you’re riding is more important than the fact that you’re out riding at all. And that’s where it all goes wrong."

Oh, does he ever have it right! So often we’re so concerned with how we look on the bike, whether the frame and parts have the right names or if the lycra (or lack thereof) is the right cut, style, and color, we forget that the object of the exercise is to just get out and ride. Enjoy yourself, whether alone or in a group, but turn those pedals and ride.

As editor Vernon Felton concludes in his column, "Dropping three months’ worth of paychecks on a mountain bike will not make you any better, faster, or happier. Riding your bike -- any damn thing with two wheels and a greasy chain -- however, will make you all of the above." We -- all of us, your faithful scribe included -- should keep that in mind on our next ride.

Remembering the motto of the Ultra Marathon Cycling Association: "Start Slow, Then Taper".

I’ll see you on the road.

John