The Chicago Criterium 2009
I spent the day in the loop today being a spectator at the 2nd Criterium held in Chicago. Cyclists from all over came to compete and many fans, friends and family lined the route to cheer their rider on. While I didn't have one rider in particular to cheer on, it didn't matter. The talent of all these athletes deserves cheering for.
I wish I had started biking along time ago. As it stands, I've really only been biking a few short months. Since starting back in May I've already participated in three organized Chicago events: Bike the Drive, Bike to Work and the L.A.T.E. Ride. I've also ridden the North Branch trail twice. Being on my bike makes me happy.
I am reminded of my mom telling me her story of how she became an avid cyclist -- and in the beginning not one with a fancy shirt and matching shorts or helmet or fancy clip pedals. She became a cyclist because she had to. Her bike was all she had to call her own after a very big life change. After I was born she continued to ride and I have many memories of being in her bike seat. I also remember the four of us riding the back country roads as a family. Her blue bike even became the one I rode when I was big enough to reach the pedals.
And now I find myself on the seat of another one of mom's bikes. This time it is a fancy bike that does have clip pedals and fancy upgrades. Some she added, some I have added. No matter what I put on it additionally, the bare bones frame and two tires represent something very similar to me that mom's first bike meant to her. It's what I have to depend on. This bike gets me to places on the day to day (work, grocery store, errands) and on those other days it gets me far away. As far away as my legs will go. I am starting again, on my own this time, and this bike accompanies on my journey.
Sometimes the road seems to end or the daylight runs out before I get to where I need to be. And I don't mean the destination. I mean where I need to be in my head. When I bike I find myself focusing on so much of the tension that swims in my head -- with each turn of the wheel, I fit another puzzle piece together and the picture continues to take shape.
I had a class in college that was a mandatory seminar for Seniors. Supposedly it was to prepare us for the stress that was to come with graduation and I guess the "start to life." Except that I had already been living real life --renting at 18, full time work and full time school-- so it seems this class was about six years too late on the whole helping deal with stress theme. Who's bitter? In this class, which involved a lot of journaling, we were asked to share what our "flow" was. Well, I couldn't come up with one. At all. In fact, I still have the journal and just flipped back to recall what I had come up with. I had written, "cleaning." Yep. How sad is that? But I wasn't riding a bike then. If I were to be asked to complete that assignment today I wouldn't even hesitate. It's biking.
So for all of you who are years ahead of me on this, I am happy to join you in the peloton. I'm really very comfortable here in the middle and I thank you for pulling me along while I learn the ropes and take in the sights. I'll do the same for you when I get stronger.
The peloton travels as an integrated unit, like birds flying in formation, each rider making slight adjustments in response to the riders around him (or her) (particularly the one in front of each). When developed, riders at the front are exposed to higher loads, and will tend to slip off the front in order to rejoin the pack further back. In some cases, with sufficient room to maneuver, this will develop into a fluid situation where the center of the peloton appears to be pushing through its own leading
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