The Long Road Home.

I’ve not been writing on here very much of late–for a number of reasons.  There’s been malaise, and doubt, and contempt.  With the coming of spring, I’m working through those issues and will likely be returning back to putting words on paper, but I think it is important to talk about what’s been going on for the past few months.

In terms of malaise, 2015 was a hard year.  I had spent months and months preparing and training for Kanza, only to be wiped out by a wholly unnecessary, but also unfixable mechanical issue very early in the race.  I was at the height of my cycling fitness at that point–and the height of my mental toughness, and a lot of my spirit was wiped out by the experience.

As the year went on, it became clear that two of my closest friends were going to be leaving the state–including my Mandem co-conspirator, the guy who happened to live the closest to me, and who was most often available for random rides…the guy who had become one of my closest confidants.

In the midst of that turmoil, my local bike shop changed ownership, under difficult circumstances.  That was a hard blow to me for a lot of reasons.  I was losing friends, losing the place that had formed the hub of so many of my best cycling memories, losing the place that I’d hang out at for a cup of post-ride coffee or bourbon, losing the mechanics that I trusted to work on my bikes and make recommendations.

It stung doubly because I started to realize how much “work” I had done for the shop.  Going back and looking at my posts, a significant majority of them link back to the shop and talk about what a wonderful place it is.  There are people from across the country who bought bikes from the shop because they had read about it here on this blog.  I was a tireless, unpaid advocate.  Beyond that, I worked with the shop purveyors to create Axletree to shield the shop.  I literally worked at the shop from time to time, building bikes and such.  I provided uncompensated legal advice.  I put my heart into the shop.  It hurt when it sold, and hurt deeper that it sold under adverse circumstances.

That spun me out into some self doubt–it lead me to wonder why I had some of the bikes I had, and whether it was worth it to make the investment of time that I had made in cycling.  I did a winter cleaning and sold some of my bikes that were either unnecessary or rarely ridden, and honestly, I feel great about that.  I also basically took the winter off.  I’d ride bikes when I felt like riding bikes, instead of being compelled to ride four times a week.  I took up running a few times a week.  I listened to my friend Aaron and lifted heavy things.  I tried to get back to enjoying cycling, instead of cycling for cycling’s sake.  I tried to enjoy time with my family instead of thinking about whether I was losing strength by not being out in the saddle.

You know what?  It worked.  I’ve come into the spring looking forward to cycling.  The first few group rides of the spring have rekindled enjoyment and hope.  Starting to meet the new owners of the local bike shop has started to rekindle my hope for a positive relationship there, as well.

The doubt that I experienced over the winter spread to the blog as well.  When I started writing this blog, some five years ago, I started writing as if I knew what I was talking about.  One of my first reviews was of the Continental Cyclocross Speed tires, which I compared to Schwalbe Marathon Mondials.  I did that comparison because they were basically the only ‘gravel’ type tires I had ridden…but I wrote with language of authority, as if I knew what I was talking about.  I wrote reviews of mountain bikes after only having ridden a limited handful of mountain bikes.  I wrote reviews of road bikes after only having ridden two real road bikes.  When you do that, each new bike is a monumental achievement in cycling, and superlatives are easy to come by.  Going from a beastly heavy Rumblefish to a lithe Spearfish makes the Spearfish seem all the more amazing.

Over time, I’ve realized that some of the reviews were overly enthusiastic (or overly critical) because I didn’t know better.  I wrote a scathing review of a Specialized full-suspension race bike explaining how terrifying it was to ride in comparison to a slack trail bike.  D’uh.  I didn’t know the import of head tube angles, and hence I thought there was essentially something wrong with the Specialized.  I’ve written opinions that really weren’t based in experience…and I see that same thing in other blogs.

Simply because someone has a blog, or a blog that is read, doesn’t make them an expert.  The internet has provided a voice for many people–a platform for them to shout from.  Some of the voices are informed and rational.  Some are people who cannot actually do anything themselves, and so they choose to loudly spout about things that they do not understand.  When I started writing this blog, I was an enthusiastic, but frankly inexperienced, cyclist.  Five years later, I have more experience, but still a lot to learn.

In the end, my narrative voice is more informed these days–both about what I do and don’t know.  Candidly, I don’t think opinions should belong only to the salty dogs that have been in the industry for decades; new voices are important.  But take opinions with a grain of salt, and consider the experience base from which an opinion comes.  Now having ridden dozens of mountain bikes in varied terrain, I’d feel more confident about venturing an opinion on a given bike.  Having ridden many different types of ‘multi-surface’ tires, I feel more confident exposing the differences.

Ironically, some things have come full circle.  Some of the things I’ve written about that I once loved are no longer things I’d use or recommend, but some have risen to the top and remain favorites.  With rare exceptions, I still love ENVE products.  Rapha cycling clothing has become my go-to riding uniform in varied conditions.  And after trying a myriad of gravel tires, Continental Cyclocross Speeds are still among the very best (if you’re not going tubeless).

I think a lot of bloggers go through a malaise period; some of my favorite writers have, at least.  This blog, like cycling, will be something that I do when I want to, not something that I write out of obligation to ensure that I have biweekly content.  And that’s how it should be.

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4 thoughts on “The Long Road Home.

  1. I enjoy your writing and I can relate to your cycle with cycling…last year I had one of most epic years of riding, but this year due to health issues, my cycling has been limited.

    But when I can ride, it’s less pressured and more of enjoying the ride.

    Curious, I still love my Vaya, do you ever ride yours?

    • I sold the Vaya. I realized that it rode it only once every few months, and while it held many great memories, I decided that I did not need that material possession to hold those memories.

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