A really nice guy I know was recently riding to work when was the victim of a hit-and-run crash. The driver was at fault and fled the scene in classic cowardly fashion. No cameras or witnesses and the cops could not care any less. My guy’s clavicle was broken, he had some road rash, not to mention his quality of life is severely reduced for at least a couple of months because the sling his arm is in. After a successful surgery permanently implanting a lot of metal into his shoulder, he’s okay, and never had too much pain. He said he’s not in physical pain but he is bummed because bicycling is his drug of choice, and the doctor said he can’t ride for a couple of months. That sucks, because he can’t get his (endorphin) high. What’s a cyclist (runner, swimmer et al.) to do?

Just yesterday, another friend messed up his shoulder, too. This was a one-person electric bike accident due to operator error. He’s sore but okay. There’s also a dude who has a large following on Strava and on social media because he rides hundreds of miles a week and takes interesting photos. He got a saddle sore so had to abort another 150-mile ride yesterday. Both of them will be off the bike for a bit, too. Fortunately, I’ve not been hit (yet), nor has my collarbone been broken, but I’ve had saddle sores and had my riding curtailed or paused due to injury or illness, so I feel bad for these guys. As I keep saying, every day riding a bike in Austin, Texas, or anywhere, could be one’s last.

In under a month from now, I’ll have been a daily cyclist for four years (not verified by the Guiness Book of World Records). It’s hard to imagine not being able to bike, even if it’s only a few miles on the boring, noisy trainer when weather’s bad. These incidents lead me to write another plodding, ponderous post about the meaning of biking.

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My few dear, constant readers know that biking has been a regular thing on and off for much of my life, and moreso since I began my 15.5 years of car-light living. Since fall of 2019 it’s been part of my daily self-care routine. I’ve been fortunate to be able to keep that streak going. There’s been some luck there but also a good bit of skill, determination aka grit, blood, sweat, and tears, sacrifice, suffering, and so on. I’ve been walking, doing yoga, skipping flour, reading, writing, and playing and instrument every day for a good while now, too. The thing is that there is self-care, and there’s false self care. It’s a new term I just learned. Apparently, I have been practicing both the good and bad kinds of self care for some time. The lines are blurred.

For example, adding a salad to my food regimen every day seems like a really good idea for my self-care. But when it’s midnight and I should be resting the digestive system and going to bed, that salad is false self care. A few times recently I’ve forgone having it for that reason. I’m still eating a ton more salad than I used to when I added this habit over two years ago. The same could be said for my biking. A bike ride is a good idea for self care. A bike ride in the sun when the ultraviolet rays which cause skin cancer are high, or late at night before bed, or every damn day for almost four years when one is tired, is false self care. I’m aware of this at a logical, rational level, and yet, I haven’t been able to quit.

We all know that doing drugs is addictive. We probably don’t worry too much about the perfectly legal and natural high from endorphins as being addictive. But that might be a problem for me and others. It’s ironic, because I’ve never been addicted to any substance, legal or illegal. Not even my morning chocolate, the dark master, because I recently ran out and went a whole week without it. (I suspect that most Americans including me are probably addicted to sugar.)

With biking or any form of exercise, it’s not just the chemical high. My friend with the bionic collarbone misses the fresh air, the sights and sounds of nature and the city that you don’t apprciate from a car, the invigoration and satisfaction of making an effort and then being rewarded for attaining his goal, which is biking to work and then home. When I’ve had to curtail or stop riding altogether, I got grouchier than usual.

Habits are powerful things. Years ago my brother introduced me to James Clear, author of a weekly newsletter and the book Atomic Habits. I hold them both partially responsible for what a guy named Sam once called my “epic velocimania,” although of course the habit was and is all my doing. There is benefit to focusing on progress, not an end goal, or perfection. Marginal gains, Team Sky used to call it. Kaizen in Japanese has come to mean constant improvement. But when your apparently good habits aren’t healthy, or you’re unable to continue your regular practice or daily habit, whatever it may be, you must adapt.

“We are what we repeatedly do… therefore excellence is not an act, but a habit.”

–Will Durant, writer

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So, what do you do when you can’t do your biking or other activity the way you want, or at all, and your bodymind still needs and craves that rush? The simple answer is you rest, recover, and reflect. Maybe you go into withdrawal even. If you’re lucky, perhaps you can use a home trainer or stationary bike at a gym. Some have recumbents which are epecially good for relief from saddle sores. Maybe you take up walking or walk further than you’re used to. Swimming, modest pool walking, gentle weightlifting, or yoga could be alternatives depending on your ailment. If none of those are options, you might binge watch some shows and movies, read a book, or do other non-demanding hobbies. Both physically and mentally, not getting your buzz from biking or other exercise is tough. You can’t truly replace it. By not biking, you feel like you’re cheating. You worry about gaining weight and losing your physical form–whatever that means for you.

In my case, as a fathlete, I am still fat. Stopping isn’t a good option. As one of two high school buddies I keep in touch with reminded me, resistance or weight training is more effective for weight loss. Fear of aggravating a shoulder injury has kept me from doing that, even though I tried resistance bands for a year. BORING! But effective. Swimming seems to help with my one-pack core muscle issue, so I aim to re-restart that. Adding more vegetables is really the only diet rule I need. But as with all battles, in the battle of the bulge, I’m a pacifist. The struggle is real. We do what we can to make marginal gains.

In the end, Sam’s advice resonates best: “Live to ride another day.” Because someday, we’ll all have our last ride, run, or what have you. We won’t have a choice but to modify or stop. Until then, stay frosty out there, friends. Keep the rubber side down. Strive for more of the true self-care and less of the false kind. I will aim for that, too.

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