I begin this blog like I did my journey on December 19, 2015: One step / pedal / word at a time. It took nine years, six months, and eight days, but I did it! I rode bicycles for 50,000 miles. That means I have now traveled the distance of the equator TWICE. (You may recall my October 23, 2020 blog, AROUND THE WORLD IN 1,770 DAYS (24,901 MILES): 5-YEAR GOAL ACCOMPLISHED !!!) When I reached that goal, I titled my Strava ride “Planet Earth: Lap 2, Day 1?” Similarly, I titled my first ride after the goal, “The Start of Another 50,000 Miles? Just Be Here Now, A Dude. One Pedal Crank at a Time.” That’s all to say that there’s a lot to say about this. I’ll try to be brief.

“For me, running is both exercise and a metaphor. Running day after day, piling up the races, bit by bit I raise the bar, and by clearing each level I elevate myself. At least that’s why I’ve put in the effort day after day: to raise my own level. I’m no great runner, by any means. I’m at an ordinary – or perhaps more like mediocre – level. But that’s not the point. The point is whether or not I improved over yesterday. In long-distance running the only opponent you have to beat is yourself, the way you used to be.”
― Haruki Murakami, What I Talk About When I Talk About Running

There are many great observations in the celebrated Japanese novelist’s book (which is a riveting recommended read, whether you run or not). This one quoted above, with the word biking instead of running, of course, speaks to a central question: Why did A Dude do it? Why spend almost 5,000 hours over almost 10 years literally spinning my wheels? And why to the extent that I have? Given my age, weight, health problems, past job, and current dire need to find a new job, a “normal” person (who owns a car) might not bike at all, or as little as possible. There’s also a bunch of people who bike much further, faster, and higher than I do. I once met and follow a guy on Strava who tours full-time and just hit 10,000 miles in 2025 alone, and the year is just half over. My piddly little 2,600 miles pales in contrast. “Comparison is the death of joy,” said the Buddha. But it’s hard not to.

But I’m no bike packer or racer, and after retiring from charity rides and eschewing the crash-laden, windy routes, and blaring music of social rides, I find myself riding solo most of the time. Most of the time, I prefer it. I can go when and where I like at the speed that suits me. Alone with my thoughts, I tick over the pedals, marking the miles, collecting them like little badges of courage. Braving the traffic, sometimes somewhat protected in bike lanes, on sidewalks, or safe on trails, I just ride. Every day since October 11, 2019. I go on errands, or to a movie, or to exercise. Always tracking on my Garmin watch and using the Strava app. It means “strive” in Swedish. I believe the numbers prove that I strove a lot, compared to the old me. Despite the radical increase of activity since 2015, I’m still a fathlete, due to sleep, diet, stress, genetics, etc. Who knows what ticking time bombs may be patiently waiting their turn in my old body?

The 10-mile ride to reach my goal was unremarkable. It was a hot, humid, early summer Friday afternoon in Austin, Texas. My first ride on Strava was on Sookie the Fuji Silhouette (may she RIP, her cracked aluminum frame is still in storage). So, I chose to ride Sommar, the Fuji Finest, instead of Sonnie, the GT Arette, which predates both of those bikes. I went to the post office, stopping only to take photos of things I traverse regularly but probably take for granted, like the University of Texas campus and Texas State Capitol. I went into a 7-Eleven and bought two bottles of Revive sugar-free hydration and two regular sized, sugar-laden Snickers. They say it really satisfies, but I had to have two.

As I rode, slowly, sweating, and pondering what it all meant, my mind was occupied with the pain points in my life. My left knee has been aching lately; probably just tendinitis which is manageable. I worried about money, long a struggle for me, and where to get it from a job, gigs, or other things. I dodged traffic inevitably with a shitty driver or two not signaling or distracted by their cell phone. For the most part, I was on auto-pilot, and somewhat calm about it all. As with many milestones, I felt rather nonplussed about it.

A piece about this accomplishment wouldn’t be complete without remembering Sophie, who was stolen, since 20,000 miles were ridden on her. On Sookie I rode 10,000. Sonnie and Soqi have about 5,000 miles a piece. Sommar is less, and the rest were borrowed bikes like on my epic trip to Montana, North Dakota, South Dakota and Wyoming. Maybe 1,000 miles were spent on trainer bikes at the gym during very hot, cold, wet weather or at times I wanted or needed a break from the bike seat, an ongoing and ofttimes painful struggle.

How did I do it? In 2014, I agreed to do a charity ride in April 2015. I started going on the training rides for charity rides. That included many 50+ mile rides and four of them 100-mile rides. I did about 3,000-3,500 miles in 2015. I got Strava in late December 2015. After making 5,306 miles in 2016, I realized I could do 4,694 in 2017 and have 10,000 in two years. Back then 100 miles a week was hard to do with a full-time job, but it was doable. This whole time I’ve been a single, childless cat dude (with no cats, except a few times pet sitting). Much of the time I was not working (which I’m paying for now with imminent poverty).

For the last five and a half years, I biked every single day, even if it was just for a mile after a snowstorm. I rode even when I was tired, sick, burned out, or busy. When I visited family, I took a home trainer and a speed meter on my rear wheel hub. I put it in the garage, and after they went to sleep I biked and watched shows. Often I took naps and started to ride at 11:59 pm. I kept aiming for 5,200 miles a year, breaking that down into months (450), weeks (100), and days (14.5). Sundays were the worst for making up miles. During the pandemic, I logged an extra 1,400 miles (read A Devil of a Year: 6,666 Miles Bicycled in 2020…). I slowed down and watched less television, but I made it a priority. I simply refused to give up.

I suppose I’m pretty exhausted. Mentally, the effort to bike this much is a drain. Physically, not having rest days is really bad. Many times the body doesn’t want to do what the mind wants it to. On those days, one can find it hard to have fun on the bike. But any time on a bike is by definition fun, and even the worst days are meaningful, perhaps moreso than the ones on which I’m rested (which are increasingly few and far between). Some say tracking goals and efforts and such on Strava or other apps is stupid, and they may have a point. To each their own. There is definitely a grey area wherein healthy goals might become unhealthy addictions. I’m not saying I have a problem, but I’m not saying I don’t either. Not biking is definitely not a good option for me, though. (See my short post, Cyclist with an Injury Problem, or an Injured Person with a Cycling Problem.) In this vein, here’s a brief poem I wrote:

Raven-ous

Nothing could be dumber 
than living life by a number

On my bike I'm a huffer and a puffer
mandatory is pain; it's optional to suffer

Instead of counting, count none
Why not just have some fun?

Yet there's something to a sum
that proves I'm not a bum

Tracking all the miles
Stops not one from some smiles

Who's to say you can't do both?
"No one," A Dude Abikes quoth

No great revelation appeared to me on this ride, nor has since so far. While sure, it’s a great accomplishment, it’s also just a number. (This is why all my bikes start with the letters S and O, as in So what?) While it does represent a ton of effort, and is significant to me, in the grand scheme of things, it’s not terribly important. The US President just started another war, and is on the verge of getting a bill passed in Congress that is a huge step on the current regime’s path toward dismantling democracy, reducing civil rights, and defunding for the social safety net by billions of dollars over the next decade, as well as increasing pollution, poverty, homelessness, uninsured people, national and personal debt, tax cuts for the rich, and much more. Nero fiddled while Rome burned; I’ve voted, volunteered, canvassed for candidates, and been to protests, but mostly over the last decade I biked. Which is a statement in itself.

If I have one regret, it’s that I didn’t take trips to actually travel around the world. Not that I had the money to do so, because I was working at a low-paying non-profit job the first two years, and then sporadically the last eight. If only I had found a way to make the biking and this blog pay.

Now what, A Dude? Quit? Not with an old car I inherited that’s due to die at any time. The bus system is limited and slow. At least take a break? Nah. Bike another 50,000 miles? Doubtful. I am pessimistic (or I prefer the word realistic) about my ability to continue at this same level. I hope to make it to 52,000 miles by the end of 2025. Stopping my streak will be very hard, but maybe I “should.” It’s inevitable at some point. Some medical procedures requiring anesthesia are waiting for me to go through with them, and that’s what interrupted my yoga streak soon after I started it 12 years ago, so I started it over. Perhaps a lower mileage goal, like 2,600 miles a year would make sense. Or a goal based on time on the bike. Maybe an electronic bike is in my future. As I always say, every bike ride could be my last. While it’s safe-ish here compared to say Dallas, Hurst, or Round Rock, drivers are distracted and bad, actually, shitty. So we shall see.

For now, I am quite happy that I made it twice around the globe and then some. At one level, it truly is amazing. But I’m not surprised I did it, either. I didn’t set out to do 50,000 miles, but no one ever gave me a reason NOT to do it. Of course being overweight, there’s the fatphobia. Like many people living in larger bodies, you can be fit and fat. Of course, ideally you’re thin, too. But plenty of thin people are not healthy, either. People would ask me, “Are you going to bike right now (late, bad weather, etc.)?” My answer was always, “Uh, have you met me?” I don’t like to say I’m proud of this very difficult accomplishment, because of the quote “Pride goeth before the fall,” and falling off the bike no es bueno. I had one recently, and though nothing broke, it often hurts, and not biking is worse.

To all who’ve helped along the way, in various ways, THANK YOU VERY MUCH. If you want to send me money to help me defray my bike costs (repairs, tubes, tires, parts, shoes, etc.), medical (sports doctor, nutritionist, supplements), computer (blog software, domain, Strava subscription, etc.), and just life expenses, or just to celebrate, please do. (I’m joking, but if you have extra money laying about and want to, that would be crazy generous of you, so let me know, I will not turn it down. Send me an email to ADudeAbikes AT gmail DOT com.) Perhaps I’ve inspired or helped some people, too. Best of luck–and success–on your journey, and with your goals, whatever they may be.

“No matter where you go, there you are.”

–The Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai Across the 8th Dimension (1984) but attributed to many others

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