In yesterday's blog I explained the reasons for my not pursuing a car-light, bicycle commuting lifestyle. However, I left out one major consideration that I don't like to think about: Aging.
We all want to stay young. I hit my fittest years right around the time I turned 40, and spent most of my 40s on the bike and in shape. My rides were epic in nature during that time. I rode all over the Colorado mountains, over many mountain passes, and up many of the front range canyons. I rode every bike path in the Denver area, and spent most of our years there commuting via bicycle to a job where I had to start at 5am. Although difficult, the early morning commutes leave me with such fond memories. Then in El Paso in my upper 40s I duplicated the experience by riding a string of years (1998 to 2002) over 2000 miles each. I considered myself fairly old at the time, approaching 50, but was surprised how good I felt and easy the miles piled up.
But now I find myself in an odd position. I just turned 61 this past March, but I'm trying to convince myself that it's just a number. I remember with shocking clarity how it felt to be strong on the bike, to conquer the mountain passes with ease, and to commute the long distances into work. I feel like I can still do that with just a little time to train. I don't want to age, and a good part of me refuses to believe that I have.
But I'm trying to fool myself, and not doing a very good job of it. Yes, I still love to go out and ride my bike – and the passion is still there – but my legs are not able to do what they used to any longer. And although my passion is still there, it has, nevertheless, changed direction.
At 61, my body is changing. My reaction times are slowing down. Clarity of thought (an extreme necessity for an urban cyclist) is diminishing. If I go out for an hour of moderate riding, I am a bit more tired the next day than I used to be. Average speed is slowing down. I see my reflection in the mirrored storefront glass of shops I ride by, and it looks like some old geezer on a bike.
But I want to live in the past. I want to climb up Battle Mountain again like I did when I was younger. I want to attack the steep portions of Mount Vernon Canyon. I want to ride like the wind out into the El Paso desert like I used to . . . But, for some reason, I entered my 60s, and my body found out.
But I'm not sad – I'm not depressed – I just need to be realistic with my goals and continue riding my bike, but with a new vision and purpose. Why try to recreate past experiences again? Every day is a new experience, with its own challenges and victories. I am actually quite happy being that old guy you always see riding around the neighborhood on the old bike, smelling the roses. There are so many shops to visit, parks to ride through, benches that need to be sat on.
I had never thought this time would actually come. It sneaks in, really, when a poor individual is not looking. In my dreams, I still ride high over the mountain passes. I still soar through the desert. My wife and I drove through Colorado 18 months ago, and drove over some of the mountain passes I used to ride over – Tennessee Pass, Vail Pass, Battle Mountain. Even then, I had tears in my eyes because deep down I realized that those passes were now beyond my bicycling ability.
And that's why. In addition to the reasons I stated in yesterday's blog, this aging thing is biiiiiig. Hey, I'm not ready to curl up into the casket yet. I still plan on riding a long time. But my vision has changed. Going car-free? Commuting on the bike? Mountain Passes? All memories, now. It's time to build new memories, have new experiences, and not duplicate the past.
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