It’s Leap Day, 2024. Let’s jump right in. I have kept a journal for most of my life since being a young teen, encouraged by my maternal grandmother. There have been plenty of long gaps and since starting this blog in 2016, many days that I skipped both to work on my bicycle memoir. Writing is a way to express your feelings, and in a journal it’s private. Blogging is sometimes an online extension of that, depending how personal you want to get. Either way, helping to clarify thoughts, process emotions, outline goals, and refine motivation are all good for your health. Which in turn is both what one needs for any sustained exercise habit or practice and a benefit of the same. The fact that I’ve written a whole book (or two, since it’s too long–even as I try to revise it a third time, what it really needs is funding for an editor) is another way I’ve expressed myself, usually about all my biking. Sure, I could still ride a bike without writing, but both are entertwined and part of my daily do’s, and so far as I’m able to continue, I plan to and hope I will.

When I sit down at the end of a long day, pen in hand, I don’t have to think much about what to say. Usually it’s something along the lines of “my landlady is batshit crazy,” or “close call today with a batshit crazy Austin driver,” or “prices in the HEB sure are batshit crazy.” OK, there’s more to it than that, obviously. Austin is known as Bat City due to the largest population of Mexican free-tail bats not in Mexico that lives under the Congress Avenue bridge, though. The point is, putting one’s frustrations on the page helps release them a bit. It may not solve the problem, or maybe it does bring some insight, but I feel better. Stomping on the pedals on a bike ride can help, too.

During the time I was doing longer training rides for the charities, I had ample time to think. Those group rides require concentration, but they also give you time for your mind to wander. Returning home to journal, I would reflect upon the day’s events: whom and what I saw, how I felt, lessons learned, ways I could improve, etc. Sure, I could have just thought about that stuff, but putting it down into words made things more tangible. For example, I thought of some names of people I could approach for fundraising. When I journalled, I would make that list, and then transfer that into emails. Since I raised over $12,000 in six rides, things like that certainly helped. Writing can be very practical that way.

Humans are a story-telling species. Much of my blogging has been sharing my journey as an aging, fat, cyclist in hopes of inspiring others but also just to tell my little story. While initially reluctant because of being a private, shy person I discovered that after a year of biking a lot, that there were things I simply had to say. There’s nothing special about me, but riding 50 miles the year I turned that age (and raising $1,000 for a good cause) was an important story that I felt compelled to share. Not that many people read this blog, but some of you who do have shared that you’ve received some value from it. Just as I have learned from, been encouraged by, and found inspiration from other bloggers. (Again I apologize for being a poor reader to focus on the aforementioned book, to make ends meet, to sleep–you know, stupid stuff like that.)

Sports psychology is part of any athletic endeavor, whether you’re trying to get off the couch to run a 3K, go do errands on a bike, or simply walk around the block. Many people don’t have the ability sue to illness or disability or other thinngs like safety, cultural norms, war, and so on. So it’s not someething to take for granted, but rather to be grateful for. If you are privileged, able-bodied, and disciplined enough to get out there, it still takes some mind-body connection, motivation, and follow-through.

As Lindsey Bracket wrote in a blog post about her writing a book and her daughter learning to ride a bike, those two things have something in common: perseverance. When times are tough and you don’t feel like exercise, journalling can be a big boon. Asking yourself questions can really help focus. Things like: What was my goal? Do I still have that goal? Or a revised one, by choice or necessity? What am I afraid of? What’s holding me back? Am I being realistic? Am I taking care of myself? What do I need to continue for the long run? Rest? A break? Better nutrition? Encouragement?

Another way writing has helped my bicycling has to do with relationships and accountability. When I share a milestone in Strava and fellow bike bloggers or just readers who aren’t cyclists pay me a compliment, or eeveen take the time to like my post, that feedback matters, and helps. Whether it’s Linda Pearce Griffin who does meditation and wished she cycled in the Eastern US, or Ortensia, a bad ass blogger who writes about being mom in Spain, or G Sayah, a firefighter also in Spain who writes beautiful prose in Castellano that I can barely understand even with the translator, Be Sorry… less in Pennsylvania waxing rhapsodically about sports or Joe Pesci or the worst and best of the week, and more. (Sorry to not include everyone, but that’s an unknown number of bike bloggers out there. With 631 followers, most of whom don’t read my blog, I’m not exactly going viral myself. Though I am still fighting a mystery virus, apparently.)

Asking yourself questions can really help focus. Things like: What was my goal? Do I still have that goal? Or a revised one, by choice or necessity?

Then there are my fellow bike bloggers: Idle cyclist in Ireland with his long hikes and voraciously read book reviews; Anthony sharing Today’s Perfect Moment in Toronto, Canada; Sheree and her View From the Back in France with her recipes, photos, travelogues, and pro bike stories; Half Fast Cycling Club in Wisconsin touring the country and his environs, and keeping me honest with facts on occasion; Rootchopper, A Few Spokes Shy of a Wheel in Virginia doing the same; Kurstin taking beautiful shots of his awesome Northern Nevada Backcountry Rides; A Midnight Rider in Massachusetts making his group ride YouTube videos.

There’s Bicycle Goddess sharing a slice of life as a bike commuter across the river from Portland, Oregon; Square Meat who does cool art, works in a bike shop in Vancouver, BC, and rightfully makes fun of hearing people; Paco Marshall also doing Urban Cycling Adventures; Drunken Cyclist, the wine reviewer and sometimes cyclist down the road in Houston; Keiran Humor (formerly BS) riding and ranting in Phoenix; thrilled to see Neil back at it in Scotland with his latest incarnation Feifdom Tracklocross, waxing poetic on literature and bike parts and stories and….; Unironed Man, a super blogger and rider I don’t know well; Frugal Average Cyclist with reviews and more; and a few more I’m not able to keep up with (apologies). Many folks on Strava may stop by here, too, or just give me kudos.

Whoever it is, there’s a person on other side telling their story, too. And there’s a feeling of comradery there, of being bound together. When my bike Sophie was stolen, people around the world knew. Some cared. A few even sent money. Such is being part of something, even if just a little, small, insignificant part of the larger thing. But it’s pretty cool for this nobody, when I can and do plug in, or just remember folks are out there.

Although I don’t do the three posts a week anymore, I want to provide some value back. So in the end, writing may never earn me a buck. But it’s helped me in ways both tangible and not. If you’re not writing about your biking or whatever activity you do, and are here as a reader, you’re welcome. Or maybe you blog but don’t journal. Maybe give it a try–you might find it therapeutic, fun, pragmatic, and more.

As always, thanks for reading, if you did and do.

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