Tailwinds, Donuts and Shorts. Oh, My.

Life in the Bike Lane

Tom Frady

By the time you six loyal readers see this, Thanksgiving will be past.  While I assure ya’ll I wrote this before November 26, I feel this time of year is really the season for giving thanks, in general.

If November has a theme, it’s gratitude. Gratitude for family, friends, and mashed potatoes with just the right number of lumps. We cyclists have our specific reasons to be grateful, though they’re not always appropriate to voice as the family members go ‘round the table saying for what they are thankful. Still, as someone who’s spent more hours in the saddle than John Wayne, I’ve come to appreciate the little blessings that make life in the bike lane possible.

First, I’m thankful for tailwinds. Real tailwinds.  I mean the kind that gently press a hand on your back and whisper, “This is gonna be fun.”   Science tells us (I’m big on science) out of the 360^o from whence a wind can hit a rider, 270 of them don’t help, Therefore, the ones that do offer some assistance are appreciated.

I’m also thankful for the miracle of cycling shorts. The first Thanksgiving was in 1621.  Like me, I’m sure the Wampanoag Native Americans were very thankful for their padded shorts.  Whoever first looked at a strip of foam and thought, “Yes, this should go between a grown adult and a piece of horse flesh (or carbon fiber),” deserves a medal. Without them, none of us would make it more than five miles without reconsidering our life choices.

Then there’s the cycling computer-- in my case, a Garmin -- that tiny overachieving gadget that tells me everything I need to know and a hobuncha stuff I didn’t know I needed to know but now I am glad I know: the distance ridden, my speed, my cadence, exercise load, sweat loss, my altitude AND my attitude.  And charts.  Loads of charts.

I am thankful for drivers who follow the law and give me three feet of space — or even a little more. I hope each one of them will consider this a handwritten note of thanks.  I’m especially thankful for the ones who slow down behind me without leaning on the horn, even when I’m climbing Baxter Grade at glacial speed.

Speaking of climbing, let’s give thanks for downhill sections. A good descent is nature’s reward for all the questionable decisions that got us up the hill in the first place.   After grinding up the aforementioned Baxter Grade, that first whoosh of wind reminds us why we do this odd hobby at all.  It seems most downhills have less downhill than the uphills had up, but the relief is still welcome.

I’m thankful for donut shops (you may have heard me mention them before) — where pastry and conversation come together. These mid-ride pauses are where cyclists solve the world’s problems, compare injuries with the enthusiasm of kids trading Pokémon cards, and discuss the ideal number of bikes one should own. (For the record it’s N+1.)

I’m thankful for my riding buddies, too. They’ve patiently listened to me describe the same neck pain eleven different times and still nod as if hearing it for the first time. A true friend won’t just give advice; they’ll pull ahead of you to offer a draft when you’re toast and pretend not to notice when you miss a shift and frighten that buzzard working on the “sleeping” skunk in the middle of the road.

There’s so much other stuff I’m thankful for: my Merino wool base layer, my 800-lumen blinking headlight and my bike that’s a better bike than I am a rider.

And finally, I’m thankful simply for the ability to ride — to be moving under my own power, to feel the world roll by at a human speed, to pedal my way into clarity when life gets noisy.

In the end, gratitude doesn’t need to be profound. Sometimes it’s just the quiet joy of two wheels, a decent stretch of pavement and the hope — however naïve — that today might just include a tailwind.