I’m often told I romanticize Cycling’s past, that the days gone by weren’t quite as rosy as I make them out to be. There is some truth to this, certainly, but the assertion isn’t entirely accurate in the sense that I romanticize everything about Cycling.
Because events are seasoned by our thoughts and individual experience, we necessarily cannot see them for what they truly were. The thoughts that pass through our mind when looking at an old or new photograph, a race, or when we go for a ride influences the way it is remembered and the significance it holds.
Our minds are very good at forgetting pain and remembering pleasure; it isn’t very long after an experience that negative associations begin to fade and positive ones to amplify. This psychological mechanism is the gateway to romanticization. Certainly, I remember that climbing Haleakala last January was a horrible experience, but I’ve managed to forget what that means precisely. On the other hand, the memory of accomplishing a task that turned out to be much harder than I had anticipated lingers strongly; I find myself drawn back to the mountain for the chance to experience once more the purity that touches us briefly when we persevere despite total exhaustion.
Romanticizing encourages us to study the past, to appreciate how things were, and provides the opportunity to learn from the mistakes others have made. It reminds us that things were not always as they are today and that those things we wish were different may be so tomorrow. It helps us forget that many long hours of suffering are balanced only by brief moments of exhilaration. It helps us to dream, to imagine what could be.
Do the great races of the past seem more glorious than they were? Perhaps. Does the sunlight’s glint off a chromed chainstay blind me to the weight of the bicycle and the extra burden it places on its rider? Certainly. Does the memory of reaching down to flick a downtube shifter eclipse the inconvenience of sitting down to shift, and removing a hand from the bars? Absolutely. But they also form the fabric of what keeps me returning to the bicycle.
Vive la Vie Velominatus.
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Most definitely. Later in the day after a ride I will think, I could have done that again, regardless of how hard it actually was.
Well said. I've been pondering this while reading Nicolas Roche's Inside the Peloton, which I really cannot recommend. While any number of authors really capture the beauty and beastliness of cycling, Roche doesn't/can't. More to the point, he seems unable to articulate this passion. After reading Fournel's Need for the Bike earlier in the week, Inside the Peloton feels like a bad ride"”the kind that rubs some of the romance off the veneer that is this addiction. And with LBS closed yesterday and today, I couldn't even replace my broken spoke and go for a ride...
I believe this reward mechanism of the brain is key to our very existence. Why else would our distant caveman ancestors have risked life and limb time after time for meat if not for agony and danger being eclipsed by the thrill of the hunt?
Those opiate dopamines sure are tricksy hypnotists, but I do love them so. Were it not for them (and a pair of skinny wheels), I would still be a 110 kilo exercise-dodging couch potato.
Hindsight allows one to focus more on the positive aspects of what has occured rather than on the negative.
Thinking about the pain one felt climbing that bastard of a hill or the 40k's into that headwind on the way home seems to disappear once you reach the top or unclip at the front gate. I did it and it wasn't that bad was it? I'll do it all again tomorrow, willingly.
Great article. And yup hindsight is a wonderful thing. In the theme of the last article I think that even crashing is romanticized. My first big crash was horrible - multiple broken ribs, collar bone, severe head injuries - yet never once has it kept me off the bike. When I look back on it, it seems not that bad. You get the manly pride thing from having scars and bent bones, you get to look like a hard man as you walk home covered in blood and your girl friend is super nice to you for a couple of months.
In reality it was f-ing horrible. I couldn't even sit up out of bed without help. But I have mostly forgotten that. If we didn't forget the pain how could we idolize it and repeat it?
Awesomeness, Frank! Very well put. Being able to forget the pain and remember the pleasure is an essential tool in the box of every Velominatus.
Ha, I rode some Italian steel today, chromed chainstays and all!
Here's a bit of romance by Jen's.
This is one of those 'snippits' that will stay with me forever!
http://bicycling.com/blogs/hardlyserious/2011/12/28/a-gift-from-jens/
@sthilzy
Great find - Jens is... well, Jens.
It'll be a sad day if he ever retires. Yes, if.
Nothing wrong with romanticizing cycling's past. We, as humans, tend to romanticize what we love, which then fuels our love for it, and so on. We wouldn't be passionate about it otherwise. Also, i think there was some full on badassery back in the day that you just don't see today. Some may call it "romanticizing," but the fact is, while it may have had a dark underbelly here and there, there was some full on beauty and intestinal fortitude you just don't see today.
It's this article from Jen's
http://bicycling.com/blogs/hardlyserious/2011/12/02/would-i-do-it-all-over-again/
I think Jen's won't retire from cycling, most likely reincarmate as a author and write the best books on Cycling Life from his inner core of pain and pleasure from the sport.