La Vie Velominatus: Optimism

Optimism carries us to the most rewarding tasks of our lives.

If I were a pessimist, or a realist for that matter, I wonder if I might have started any of the various activities which have brought me the most pleasure and satisfaction. Though I have Cycling in my mind when I make that statement, this principle expands beyond the vast and il-defined borders of La Vie Velominatus: everything worth doing takes time, work, and commitment in equal measure, and that fact can be daunting and intimidating.

Invariably, it is my poor estimation of effort combined with my vague memory of pain and discomfort which affords me the greatest character trait I possess: optimism. In the face of all reasonable likelihood of failure, in spite of the hopeless amount of work something might prove to be, I invariably believe that success is not only possible, but inevitable. (This trait might also be classified as arrogance or stupidity, but I don’t like the sounds of those as much because they would require more introspection, and that sounds like work.)

It is with this frame of mind that I cheerfully tackle most any activity, in my life and on the bicycle. While I haven’t conducted a poll of any kind, I have informally received sufficient unsolicited and often shouted feedback to allow me to surmise that this approach is not always as liberating for those participating in the activity as it is for me. Be that as it may, and as has oft been observed in these archives, our chosen sport is one rife with suffering afforded by long days in the saddle which allow us to suffer more intensely and for longer days in the saddle in the future. Every element of this sport revolves about axes of sacrifice, dedication, and patience. Training, certainly. Diet and weight loss as well. Even learning the subtleties of maintaining our equipment properly takes years in the tutelage of a Cycling Sensei. These are long journeys that build on small gains over time; there is no magic potion that one can imbibe to be transformed from portly oaf into elite cyclist – much less so a Velominatus.

If, on a winter morning, I had the slightest appreciation of the intensity of the cold I would feel eight or ten hours into the ride, I might never set out on it; it is my optimism that I will enjoy the ride that allows me to experience the insular nothingness of The Tunnel.

If, as I point my bicycle towards the hills instead of the plains, I had a clear memory of the suffering it caused me previously, I might never become a better climber; it is my optimism that I can overcome my size and weight to master the terrain I love the most and am comprehensively il-suited to travel.

If, at eight years old, I’d had the slightest idea that I would be almost 30 years into my journey and only just beginning to develop some of the most rudimentary elements of experience, strength, knowledge and passion that Cycling delivers to us, I would perhaps never had started. Yet it was my optimism that these things would come that has allowed me to experience this wonderful journey.

Optimism is what allows the mortal to start  down the path laid by the immortal. Vive la Vie Velominatus.

frank

The founder of Velominati and curator of The Rules, Frank was born in the Dutch colonies of Minnesota. His boundless physical talents are carefully canceled out by his equally boundless enthusiasm for drinking. Coffee, beer, wine, if it’s in a container, he will enjoy it, a lot of it. He currently lives in Seattle. He loves riding in the rain and scheduling visits with the Man with the Hammer just to be reminded of the privilege it is to feel completely depleted. He holds down a technology job the description of which no-one really understands and his interests outside of Cycling and drinking are Cycling and drinking. As devoted aesthete, the only thing more important to him than riding a bike well is looking good doing it. Frank is co-author along with the other Keepers of the Cog of the popular book, The Rules, The Way of the Cycling Disciple and also writes a monthly column for the magazine, Cyclist. He is also currently working on the first follow-up to The Rules, tentatively entitled The Hardmen. Email him directly at rouleur@velominati.com.

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  • Thanks, Frank!  It's a good reminder of what makes our sport the greatest, in my opinion.  Ours is a sport of courage and suffering.  Of labor and love.  It's never easy, almost always hurts, but the work is worth it! The work gives us strength; physically and mentally. It improves our lives on and off the bike. It's the optimism you discuss that makes this all possible. I was too scared to become a cyclist until last year at age 30. Fat and weak, I climbed aboard a bike and faced off against myself. I still go to battle, daily (and it is a battle). I love this community because often I am not enough of an optimist to face that battle and it is the Keepers and all of you that help me face early mornings, cold, and days of dead legs.  I have a long way to go, but I'm optimistic that one day I will be a full blown Velominatus. Thanks all!

  • Frank - your pieces are always great, but this one is truly perfect for me & apropos. Optimism. Time. Work. Commitment. Intimidating. I've pulled off some pretty big things in my life to date, all of them taking some serious time, work, and commitment. I've recently hit the first wall I've ever hit in my life - I can't seem to accomplish the main goal that sits right in front of me. There are a lot of reasons, but none of them really matter. I know I have it in me. I know with maybe twelve weeks of hard work I'll put myself right there. Three months from peaking. I've started, stopped, stalled, stopped, started.

    But, I simply need to go Sur La Plaque and commit to it. I know I can do it. Optimism. I've pulled off much bigger accomplishments that required far more work in the past. I know I can make this one happen.

    One reason I've so quickly developed as a cyclist is because I've gone all in on it at the sake of not dedicating myself to this other task. Now is the time to ease off the pedals for just a bit. I know, I know. But in a few months would I rather be a bit faster, or finally pull this monkey off my back? (And in truth, if I just commit & stay focused, I'll have plenty of time to ride and make this other goal happen.)

    Thanks Frank! This was a GREAT one for me to read right now.

  • @ten B

    @frank The English language falls short in some areas when describing character traits. I think "eigenwijs" sums up a lot of what you're describing (rather than arrogance or stupidity). It's the same Dutch stubbornness and pig-headed confidence, combined with optimism that produces the type of folk that take up a perpetual fight against nature in order to live where they do.

    While I completely agree that Dutch is in some (many) ways a more expressive language and I think a lot of what you're saying about us is right - I disagree completely that a better word is eigenwijs. Eigenwijs means, literally, "personal wisdom" and implies that one relies on their own knowledge while refusing advice from others - usually to their own detriment. Its a totally different mentality (and one for which I'm not aware of an English equivalent word) which is almost the oposite of optimism.

    Optimism, in the sense that I'm discussing in the article, is one of innocence and naiveté. The blind faith that things will turn out alright. The blind faith that it will be fun or will be easy. Eigenwijs means that people are telling me not to go ride because I'll be cold and I say, "no, I won't be cold" and go out and ride only to freeze my ass off. Or to have someone say, "You should take a gillet with you" and I say, "no, I don't need one" and then it turns out I needed one.

    Are you actually Dutch? This isn't the first time you've demonstrated a solid understanding of the language, not to mention the culture.

  • @Adrian

    What would you say to that 8 year old you if you could meet him now?

    I don't think I'd tell him anything. I wouldn't even tell him to take that 10 year break after my injury - all my choices - good and bad - have brought me to where I am today, and I wouldn't trade that for anything. I guess I'm lucky.

  • @SuperFed

    Optimism - it's what keeps me going to achieve shaving zen.  Been four months now as I observe Rule #33 and I just now purchased a luffa sponge and exfoliant to overcome the razor burn.  Thanks for the advice @mcaqueak.

    I use a natural sponge, and Baxter Aftershave. Guns are wicked smooth. I have a vague recollection of consuming a number of ales and then comparing the smoothness of my guns to the smoothness of @snowgeek's VMH's guns and concluding - after rubbing both - that mine were smoother.

    I wonder if that was entirely appropriate. Sorry @snowgeek. Might have crossed a line there.

  • @Xyverz

    And what you said!

    @TDogCA

    Your autocorrect seems to be wicked awesome!

    @The Oracle

    Unlike @frank, I often struggle in my life to stay optimistic.  Not that I'm hopelessly depressed or anything, but there are many a day where it all seems a bit pointless and hardly worth the effort.  Cycling helps with that.  It is the concrete thing in my life where, if I put the work in, I'll be a better cyclist by the end of the day.  It may only be incremental, but it's something.  I try to think about that, whenever I put in a week's worth of work and see zero results, or see the situation actually get worse despite my efforts.

    I'm very fortunate to just be a generally optimistic, cheerful person, though the shine does wear off, of course, from time to time.

    Also, I had a good friend of mine tell me in college that alcohol is a depressant, and that it doesn't work on me.


    while(drinking)
    {
    if(alcohol && frank) volume++;
    }

  • @Cyclops

    I have sort of the opposite.  Especially when it comes to crits.  I always have a feeling of impending doom that sets in as the start time approaches and I see the grizzled masters with decades of base in their legs and the look in their eyes that tell this novitiate that this is gonna hurt real bad.  I dread the surge of the first four or five laps as the "selection" is made.  But then after I have held on and finished in the top 5 and my heart rate returns to double digits I thing to myself "That was fucking awesome!"

    That is the oposite. What you describe is self-doubt. But then you describe a bunch of The V which will ultimately, after a few more years, result in optimism.

    You are doing well, my son. Cheers.

  • @frank

    I'm very fortunate to just be a generally optimistic, cheerful person, though the shine does wear off, of course, from time to time.

    This means that you are just plain stupid. You have so much in your life that you should be depressed about.

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