Take it Easy
by Rob
Story
Like a good story, every good ride has a beginning, a middle, and an end. Rides always have a beginning, even when you're with textbook dawdlers, and always have an end, even when you're suffering a ceaseless case of chamois chafe. Where they go really bad is when they lack a good middle. A ride without a good middle is like an Oreo filled with nothing but spit and dust.
Smart riders know that the best way to ensure a good middle is to stop and enjoy a rest break. To take a moment to look back on what you've climbed and to look forward to what you'll cruise. To assimilate your surroundings, to connect with the wilderness, to... Oh, hell, it's to sit around, eat, and talk about wimmin. Or men. Or whatever you want to talk about. The point is to get comfortable. To admit -- for a few minutes, anyway -- that huffing along in a butt-up, head-down egg-shaped ball is fine for an egg, but not the be-all, end-all for the human life form.
Type-A personalities turn up their snouts at the concept of rest stops because they think "rest" is all there is to it. Not hardly. I've spent rest stops bouldering, skinny dipping, naming Oscar winners, playing fetch with dogs, making out (not with dogs), climbing trees, throwing a Frisbee, watching a bald eagle, clearing trails, and solving all the word's problems. Rumor has it I once killed a man. Wait, that was Gatsby.
If the Type-As in your life don't want to stop, maybe they don't know how. Remind them that they're Nature's guests, and they owe it to her to set a spell and catch up. Then find a sweet place to do it. As in real estate, rest stops require three factors to succeed: location, location, and, oddly, location. Some riders prefer a commanding vista, others enjoy a quiet, leafy glade. Any view that blocks out civilization works.
As you sit there, watching the world without the normal oppressive frames (door, windshield, or TV screen), your body settles down. Your back and knees crack with glee. You start to breathe instead of pant. Your hair gets combed by the breeze. Your skin gradually frees itself from the sweaty grip of your T-shirt.
Consume something. To those riders who think water and energy bars suffice, I say, "Dare to dream." Energy bars are a supplement, not the real deal. Bring something you actually look forward to, then relish it. Know that there's nothing better than a good orange, just as there's nothing worse than a bad orange. The juicier the better. Ripe mangoes and pineapples are primo, just make sure they're in a Zip-Loc so they don't jizz all over your bagel.
Bring some Oreos, which
symbolize your passage through the hard stuff to get to the creamy filling.
Rational types may point out that Oreos are filled with sweetened beef lard.
So what? Middles aren't about fitness, they're about pleasure.
© Rob Story
Bike
magazine
Rob is a lost author who's been found.