…as in “Momentum”, not “more”.
Tenuous Momentum. Elusive Momentum. This thought cropped up a few days after Christmas. It isn’t necessarily formed any further, but it hasn’t really gone away, so I guess I’m still chewing on it. Things have been changing - well, they always do that - but the events which I thought would be underway now have been altered altered a bit, which in turn changes the trajectory for the year just a touch. And the question is how to keep that momentum moving with these changes. And it’s extremely annoying to read about, let alone write about, someone’s personal references to nonspecific occurrences. So, I’m going to drop that thread for now, and maybe it’ll work its way back in to this, or another bit of writing.
Which is generally a really poor way to start an entry. If you’re still reading along, I’ll try again.
We had a pretty big gang in town for the holidays, with my sister bringing her family up to the area. We’d all gotten together a couple days after the Christmas day thing for a fine evening of great cheese (courtesy of my brother) good food and a couple of fine pies. What was really nice is that we also got back together for an impromptu dinner at my parent’s place a night later. It was a work day, and I’d taken the Quickbeam on the commute and then rolled up to the family meal. Another good evening without the distraction of a Formal Holiday Event. Not quite as much fine cheese, but the company was excellent and we all found a lot to laugh about.
As things broke up, I changed into a couple of warmer layers for the road. This is always the point where I think my family sincerely begins to doubt my sanity. It was a couple wool layers, wool headband and wool gloves kinda cold - actually not too bad if I could make it through the first 5 or 10 minutes. But, I don’t think the temperature was the issue. There was a bit of kerfuffling about whether I needed a ride, which I politely declined. Then my sister pointed out the threatening conditions.
Sister - “It’s dark.”
Me (checking) - “Yep.”
sis - “People won’t see you.”
me - “Now, now. This is a useful bike. I’ve got lights…”
sis- “You’re wearing all black!”
She more or less had me there. Except that my leggings had big honking ‘flecto chevron patches on each calf and my “black” wool top has side panels of top-dead-center yellow. I also pointed out the flecto hangers on my bike and my bag, and pointed out my headlight was probably brighter than her car. She gave me that sisterly “you are such a goober” look and sent me off.
From past tries, I’ve learned that it’s never really a good plan to assuage these fears by talking about how much time I spend and have spent riding around after dark. For some reason that tends only to unnerve people a bit. Didn’t want to make folks nervous, just get on the road before the food coma truly hit.
The first short mile is actually downhill, and the evening temperature cut right through. You’d think that the mandatory pedaling of the fixed-gear would keep you warm. But, no. It’s mostly flopping around - all light and no heat. I took a short cut, a steeper bit on a dark night which would at least put me on a level road earlier. The big meal sat palpably in my stomach. Felt like I had a bowling ball on my lap as began to push the pedals a bit. Rolled a bit slowly up to speed, thankful that the addition of forward motion helped keep the pedals moving.
And then things just started to roll.
Virtually no cars on the roadways. Just the hissy hum of the Jack Browns on the pavement. Lights picking up the flecto shards of signs way down the roadway. Just the tiniest hint of power seeming to flow through the pedals, adding to the momentum. Looked up at the trees to see if I had gained a tailwind. Maybe, but it felt better than that.
It’s funny how these things go. You ride and suffer and spend time looking down to figure out what is rubbing, or how many gears you have left and you realize “nothing” and “none.” And then out of the blue, everything just suddenly hums and seems to be pushing you forward. At least I was lucky enough to realize and enjoy it.
Over rougher back road asphalt, through the smoother city streets, even up and over a hill or two. It isn’t to say it wasn’t hard work. It feels as if you are outside yourself, realizing you are breathing pretty hard and trying to keep the pedals turning over, but somehow integrated with it but not quite affected by it.
And no. Before you suggest it, I gave up all that stuff years ago.
Made it home, but rolled around the long way through the neighborhood just to savor the last bit of the ride. It was a grand and glorious ramble. A fine ride upon which to end the year. One that makes you think about how on the bike you try to string together a myriad of small efficiencies and mate it with the results of the miles you’ve put in. When it clicks, it’s glorious, whether the act is clearing a snotty little technical bit that has always been a nemesis or just rolling home along deserted roadways late on a cold, clear Monday night.
When I find that momentum, I want more. Well, let me qualify that. Not “more” per se. But, I just want to wrangle a bit of it into the other parts of my life. Feel that flow. Have that connectedness.
Maintain that momentum.
January 13th, 2009 at 5:13 pm Kinda sounds a bit like that Hitting Your Stride business I wrote about a while back. We all need a little mo’ mo in our lives.
January 13th, 2009 at 8:52 pm Yep. It’s a weird thing. Weird in a wonderful way. Here’s to mo!