Why Bike Journals?

Life in the Bike Lane

Tom Frady

There are riders who can tell you the exact number of miles they rode last year, how many feet they climbed, what kind of donut they had at Mile 26.3 (Crumb), and the temperature at the top of Baxter.  Then there are those riders who just don’t care and can’t quite remember where they rode last Thursday. That is why keeping a bike journal matters.

At first glance, a ride journal seems unnecessary. We already live in a world where phones, watches, bike computers, and mysterious satellites secretly record our every pedal stroke. The statistics are there whether we write them down or not. Mileage. Speed. Heart rate. Calories burned. Atmospheric pressure over eastern Placer County. It is all waiting for us on some app.  We don’t need all that data, but “need” is not the point.

Numbers alone are not memory.

A good bike journal is not just about statistics, but about preserving moments that would otherwise disappear like tire tracks after rain.

Years ago, I started jotting down notes after rides, mostly numbers.  Then, in about 2004 somebody gave me a spreadsheet he had developed.  Now, spreadsheet development is beyond me (I’m a dreamer), but I’m still using it today.

I quickly starting using a computer and a very early version of Windows.  Nothing fancy. Just a few lines about weather, distance and speed.

Now those little entries feel priceless.

I can review old journals and revisit entire chapters of my life. There are pictures and rides with people who have since moved away, grown older, or passed on. There are entries about my first ride after an illness or injury. The mileage itself matters less. What matters is remembering how the ride felt.

A bike Journal is also good for keeping service and purchase records for your bike.  I don’t how many times (actually, I do know) I have referred back to my records to find out when I bought a piece of gear or last had my bike serviced.

There is another plus to keeping a journal.  When the police knock on my door and demand to know where I was on a certain date, I have about a 3-in-7 chance of being able to not only tell them, but have a picture to prove it.

You six loyal readers know me.  The inclusion of photos in my journal was a watershed moment.  If a picture is worth a thousand words, my journal began to rival War and Peace in length, if not in epic quality. Cyclists are notorious for stopping to photograph bicycles leaning against fences or signs warning us about things we fully intend to ignore. At the moment, it feels silly. Later, those pictures become anchors for memory.  And fill this space in this publication every fortnight.

One old photo of a bicycles lined up along a bagel shop wall can bring back the smell of coffee and the laughter of fellow riders. It reminds us not only where we rode, but who we were with when we rode there.

There is another benefit to a bike journal that younger riders may not appreciate . . . yet: it documents perseverance.

As the years pass, the journal tells a larger story than any single ride. It records recoveries from injuries, determination through difficult seasons, and the simple refusal to stop moving forward as we grow older. Some days the entry may proudly announce fifty miles. Other days it may simply read, “Rode around the neighborhood.”

I recorded a 7 mile ride the other day.  Those small rides count too.

Perhaps especially those.

Cycling teaches us that life is rarely about dramatic victories. Most of it is ordinary miles ridden steadily over time. A journal captures that truth beautifully. It reminds us that the ride was never only about fitness or speed.

One day, years from now, someone may open one of those old journals and discover far more than cycling statistics. They will discover evidence of a life well ridden.