Haven’t written a blog post in a while so I thought I’d share with you
what has recently been pickling my mind.
My conundrum is pretty general, but I'm confident a lot of people
have asked themselves the same question.
Why the hell do I do this?
This query tumbled into my mind as I was on the turbo in the garage,
yet again, during a monotonous school weekday evening.
Initially, I think about the door confronting me as I get the turbo producing
a smooth, consistent drone, registering happy numbers on my Garmin and an even
power output. I’m fairly confident I could paint the door blind-folded due to
the amount of hours I’ve spent sitting on my bike, staring at it. To be honest
it’s not a bad door to stare at; it’s not your average door. The model is a stable
door, giving you the opportunity to have a peak into my bleak back-garden if
you’re feeling in that state of mind; or if you want some air circulation in
the ridiculously dense atmosphere that is my garage.
I opt for it being completely closed. I spend enough time in the
freezing cold and I’d rather sweat like a pig than shiver like a horse shedding
flies. After all, it is a nice-looking door.
There’s a humble window in the middle of it, so I still give myself a
treat once in a while: a glance into the suburban concrete-flowerbed-lawn-covered
jungle.
But as my hot sweat condenses on its cold wooden surface, I wonder, in
any other situation, would I have given so much thought to an inanimate
object which is merely a tool to keep some things in and some things out? I ponder
more deeply, why do I spend all this time only in the company of a fecking door?
I could be...
...watching tv, surfing the internet, studying, pretending to study
but actually watching tv and surfing the internet, making a nice meal, giving
up on making a nice meal and buying an equally delicious takeaway, spending
time with friends, going on facebook/twitter and annoying people who I want to
be friends with or researching things which would enhance my life better than
staring a stupid door...
The ball had started rolling. I couldn’t get this thought out of my
peculiar mind. I wondered for days, why on earth did cycling tickle my fancy?
Did I choose cycling, or did cycling choose me?
However, a few days back I had an epiphany. I had woken up late, burnt
some toast, and couldn’t find ANYTHING I needed to embark on the forthcoming steady
ride. An accurate way to describe my mood would be frustrated, annoyed, angry but
fundamentally, grumpy.
A crisp morning greeted my scowling eyes as I slammed the garage door
down and threw myself over my bike and ‘got on with it’.
I went over Craigantlet to get out of busy Belfast. It would probably rank
as a Cat 3 climb in most races, but it felt like a ‘Hors Categorie’ incline on
that morning. I zigzagged my way toward Newtownards, reaching the Portaferry
Road, continuing along the coast. As the gradient mellowed, so did my temper. I
gazed at the hundreds of birds flocking on Strangford Lough, taking a well
earned rest. The sight flushed the negativity of the morning out of my system,
and I was just a kid enjoying a bike ride. Nothing mattered anymore. I had no
stresses, no downs, just ups.
When I got home, all the gunk in my body had been ejected onto the
roads, and all the gunk in my conscience had been thrown up into the tailwind
on the way back into Belfast.
I felt fresh.
I racked up my bike on the garage wall with utmost satisfaction. I had
found my answer. THAT is why I do it. THAT is why I spend an incredulous amount
of time staring at a green stable door. THAT is why I punish myself day in and
day out, instead of livin’ it up, like you’re ‘supposed to’...
Without that ride I would have been grumpy and groggy for the
foreseeable future. I may have still been in that mood now if I hadn't gone out
on my bike. Without cycling I would be a raving psychopath, always annoyed and acquire little to no knowledge about doors. Without it, a few more stress lines would also be added to my
forehead as well.
I hadn’t even considered how the racing element of cycling had benefited me greatly! I have met many people, travelled to many different
places and have gained many a precious memory by attempting to go faster than others
on my bicycle.
One of the best feelings in my life to date is the crowd at a race.
Whether it be a handful of people waiting to bring their companion home after a
day at a race who have nothing better to do than watch the race unfold, or
hardcore enthusiasts lining the streets in some Belgian Village on a sweltering
hot day; being the centre of their entertainment on the centre stage is why I
went for THIS sport.
Why do you do it?
Twitter: @DanBikeStewart
Facebook: facebook.com/DanBikeStewart
