Adventure Cycling
I’ve been asked what the hell I’m doing drinking, smoking, and riding bikes with kids half my age and less—and I’ve asked myself that, too.
All sorts of none-too-flattering answers could be given, I’m sure: it’s my midlife crisis; I’m denying my age; I’m just a creepy old guy, and maybe there’s an element of truth in all of those.
But I think the real reason I’m drawn to these regular .83 rides is the opportunity to infuse my staid, middle-class (and middle-aged) existence with some small sense of adventure.
T.S. Eliot said, “Old men should be explorers,” and I agree. When I’m not making at least minor discoveries in my life, having at minimum a few unexpected explorations, I start to feel really old and in the way.
So what’s particularly satisfying about setting out on an evening ride with the bike gang is that, more often than not, I don’t really have a clue about where we’re headed or what’s going to happen.
Last night, for instance, about twenty of us swarmed from Westlake Center in a disorganized mob that somehow re-congregated at Dick’s Burgers near the Seattle Center. Then, after those who wanted them got their meaty gutbombs, it was off down Western, racing traffic towards the Magnolia Bridge.
Another stop in lower Magnolia for beer and Slim Jims, then it really got interesting. We pedaled up into Discovery Park and then dove down a very steep and dark hill to the water, where we rode single-file along the trail to a secluded cove.
Quaffables were quaffed and then came the most adventurous part of the night: we hiked up through the woods, at a fairly furious pace, carrying our bikes to the top of the hill we had descended earlier.
It sort of sucked and was nothing I would have done on my own; I’ll bet few of us will ever do it again.
But there’s no denying it was an adventure.
All sorts of none-too-flattering answers could be given, I’m sure: it’s my midlife crisis; I’m denying my age; I’m just a creepy old guy, and maybe there’s an element of truth in all of those.
But I think the real reason I’m drawn to these regular .83 rides is the opportunity to infuse my staid, middle-class (and middle-aged) existence with some small sense of adventure.
T.S. Eliot said, “Old men should be explorers,” and I agree. When I’m not making at least minor discoveries in my life, having at minimum a few unexpected explorations, I start to feel really old and in the way.
So what’s particularly satisfying about setting out on an evening ride with the bike gang is that, more often than not, I don’t really have a clue about where we’re headed or what’s going to happen.
Last night, for instance, about twenty of us swarmed from Westlake Center in a disorganized mob that somehow re-congregated at Dick’s Burgers near the Seattle Center. Then, after those who wanted them got their meaty gutbombs, it was off down Western, racing traffic towards the Magnolia Bridge.
Another stop in lower Magnolia for beer and Slim Jims, then it really got interesting. We pedaled up into Discovery Park and then dove down a very steep and dark hill to the water, where we rode single-file along the trail to a secluded cove.
Quaffables were quaffed and then came the most adventurous part of the night: we hiked up through the woods, at a fairly furious pace, carrying our bikes to the top of the hill we had descended earlier.
It sort of sucked and was nothing I would have done on my own; I’ll bet few of us will ever do it again.
But there’s no denying it was an adventure.
posted by Professor Dave at 4:58 PM
1 Comments:
If it is any consolation I was extremely confused when you first posted your 50th birthday rallycat info on the forum. I had to double check the user name. I've only met you a handful of times but I would have guessed you were in your late 30s.
-rlotz
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