“You Don’t Feel Much Like Ridin’… w pix

…you just wish the trip was through,” (“Turn the Page” Seger, B).

I have seven mile-and-a-quarter courses laid out around town. I ride 10 miles most ridable days. I ride hard on at least two, sometimes three, of those courses most days. I have a mountain bike, but the only “mountain” I ride is the inertia I have to overcome to get started some days. My bike isn’t a light-weight titanium-framed unit. It feels more like cast iron some days.

Seger’s line kept rolling through my brain. I didn’t want to ride at all. I had to lie to myself and promise to just lollygag along the bike trail by the river, digging the scenery, but that steep little 30’ hill leading up to that particular “hard-ride” course doesn’t lend itself to slacking off. As always, I hit the top with pumping legs, glance down at my odometer to spike the

time and, by then, I’m going for the gusto, forgetting my promise to “just dog it” today.

In the back of my mind, I know what is going to happen. I’ve broken that promise to myself a thousand times, but I don’t question it when I make it, just like I never questioned my vow to “have two beers and go home.” I don’t question that vow today either. No need to. I know Slick’s two-beer promise is bogus, before it finishes forming in what’s left of my brain.

Some lies can be useful, though. If I told myself, “quit sniveling and get on that bike and jam,” I’d be more likely to “get on that chair and jam out on internet click-bait.” But, if I set the bar low, I can force myself to start. And that “start” is the key to a lot of things. “I’ll just put the clean dishes away” (and wind up doing the dirty ones). “I’ll just fill in the address on that paperwork” (and wind up completing the form).

A lie I don’t tell myself is, “I’ll do it later.”

When I’m back home from my ride, I never forget the most important part.  The truth that will make it easier to ride again next time: “I’m sure glad I did that!” I have done that for years after any task reluctantly undertaken. I told myself that nightly for twenty years, as I walked down the hall, headed home from work, after staying until after 10 PM to finish progress notes, knowing that I would be glad I didn’t have to face them in the morning, with my phone ringing and someone knocking on my office door.

Another trick to increase my motivation is that I always ride into the wind on the way out. Coming home with the wind at my back leaves a residual glow from the ride that makes throwing my leg over the bike that much easier next time.

And I damn sure told myself “I’m glad I did that” after I finished supper in early recovery, having wiped out my daily urge to have a beer, and again the next morning, when I woke up without the hangover that was the curse of my life for decades.

The Twin Demons of Sloth and Gluttony are always lurking, waiting to abet Slick’s plan to get me back into the magnetic chair, mindless comfort close at hand. At the age of 73 one doesn’t dare let that downward spiral set in.

Later for you, Slick and your “take-the-easy way” lies.

BTW, the times on my cheap (heavy) mountain bike today through the hard rides, on fairly flat pea-gravel, were 6:08 against and 5:14 with, a ten mph East wind. How are you doing?