Balancing Act. My (bi)cyclical journey...

?? Let me preface the following story with acknowledging that I am a very fortunate individual in every regard, and thus a very grateful individual as well. With so many unfortunate events and negative news within my inner circle and the world at-large, I feel a kind of guilt in writing about something so seemingly trivial and/or silly, but maybe a light-hearted, positive story is just what we could all use at this point. If this is the case and you feel the same, I invite you to read on.

?? This past weekend I was able to achieve a personal best, well at least it was a PB during my tenure as an adult thus far in that I rode my bicycle out and back for 32 miles straight in just over 2 hours. What does this have to do with work, and why would I share this on LinkedIn? Well, the short answer is that the company I work for sponsors an annual team-ride to support the JDRF (Juvenile? Diabetes Research Fund) and I was fortunate enough to be one of the employees selected to be on the team via a company-wide lottery. This year our ride is in Coeur d’ Alene, Idaho?during the last weekend in September. I will devote an entire article to the JDRF ride and Mannkind’s participation, but I wanted to share the origin story of how my participation, and the impetus to “throw my hat in the ring” came to fruition.

Of course now the irony is that driving my car has become the chore as I eagerly make my way to the trailhead with my bike on the back...???

From the beginning...

I suppose I should start from the very beginning. As a kid living in a fairly rural area of New York (yes, there are a lot of rural areas above Westchester County in NY) my bicycle was my only mode of transportation that did not include my parents, who were typically not-too-thrilled and/or willing to drive me over hill and dale on a whim.? Moreover, where I lived was a mountainous area on the outskirts of town, and so it was a 10 minute car-ride into town and a 20-30 minute car ride to any of the major shopping centers in the area. As such, any trip, be it to the supermarket or to a friend’s house, had to be a meticulously planned and scheduled event akin to a space-shuttle mission.

?? Unlike the more densely populated developments down in the valley, my closest peers and friends were spread out amongst the sparse and hilly landscape, and a journey to any of their houses to hang out was just that, a journey. As such I came to rely on my bike, and my ability to traverse 9% inclines (at least one way every time) in order to have any semblance of a social life outside of school. Back then riding my bike was a necessity and I regarded it as a chore as I chugged my way up and down Hosner Mountain, impatiently awaiting the day I would eventually have my own drivers-license and a car. (Of course now the irony is that driving my car has become the chore as I eagerly make my way to the trailhead with my bike on the back...)

?? Once I had the means to drive myself, my old 10 speed bike quickly became a fixture in our shed collecting dust and eventually its share of rust. In my early 20’s I bought a new hardtail mountain bike and attempted to get back into riding, but a few months in I experienced a (what would now be a YouTube worthy) crash that left my body and ego bruised, but the bike completely bent and broken. That bike would stay as such until?my early 30’s when I met my wife, and my interest in riding was piqued once again. I had the bike repaired and upgraded, but after several failed attempts to rekindle a consistent riding routine, as well as a failed marriage, that bike would sit in storage again for another 6 years.

Second or third chance..?

Fast forward to 2016, and seemingly out of nowhere, the bicycle-bug bit once again, and so I dusted off that hardtail, got it serviced and started riding regularly once again. This time around there was no shortage of fairly level paved rail-trails and hard-packed woodland trails to explore. I built a simple hitch-mount carrier for my car so I could get out on the trail(s) as often as I could on my way home from work. I continued to ride that old hardtail?up until the spring of 2019, when after a long period of consistent riding, I realized that I had most certainly outgrown my 22 year-old, 26” mountain bike in every regard. I performed my due diligence and then headed down to my local bike store where I was fitted up and purchased a brand new Trek Dual-Sport II hybrid bike in ‘Viper Red’ complete with 24 speeds and disk brakes. It was by far the most sophisticated bike I had ever owned up to that point. It fit and rode so much better, it looked really sharp, and it would prove to be the “gateway bike” into what would become a more serious riding career.? Despite it’s age and the abuse I threw at it, I ended up giving that Nishiki Blazer hardtail away to a very enthusiastic taker, and though I was instantly in love with my new Trek, I knew I would always hold a place in my heart for that bike, which like me at that point in my life, was bruised and battered, but still had many miles in front of it, and a hell of a story behind it.

?? The spring of 2020 would prove that the timing of my bike purchase, though unbeknownst to me at the time, was extremely lucky as the COVID19 pandemic made finding and/or purchasing a new bike nearly impossible due to supply-chain constraints, and an exponential increase in demand. Suddenly I found myself surrounded by like-minded people on the rail-trail and various hard-pack riding spots. While it was great to see others enjoying 2-wheeled recreation, the increase in the density of people was not without its consequences, and as a result I suffered another spectacular crash in the summer of 2020 in which my face came to a sudden stop against pavement whilst avoiding a fellow rail-trailer who was paying more attention to their smartphone than their dog, or their child. Luckily I was wearing my PPE, which included a good helmet and gloves, but I was left torn and bloody none the less and garnered my share of concerned (and horrified) glances as I rode the 5 miles back to my car at the trailhead.

Discouraged by the overwhelming numbers of ‘noobs’ out and about, I took a break from the public trails and opted to start riding through the grid of street blocks in the village I was living near at the time. The small amount of vehicular traffic on the roads seemed to me less of a risk than the crowds on the trails. Even still, while I fully recovered from that crash physically, it had apparently jarred my confidence and psyche enough that I reduced the frequency of my rides to just about zero for a good year and a half. This was compounded by the fact that Liz and I were in the midst of what would become a protracted home renovation project and meant riding was no longer a priority, never mind a desire. At this point in my on-again/off-again ‘cycle’ the Trek was now starting to gather dust and some rust of its own. That is until late summer of 2022.

Continuum...

My typical cycle would be reaching a point of shame and absolute disgust then launching off on some physical pursuit? ?

I should also mention that I’ve struggled with tobacco use for well over 25 years now, and while I’ve gotten to a point where I can enjoy a single cigarette on the rarest of occasions, it wasn’t always that way. I spent years toggling between complete abstinence,? a pack-a-day habit, and everything in between. Being a staunch believer in the theory that the only way to jettison a? bad habit is to replace it with a good one, my typical cycle would be reaching a point of shame and absolute disgust then launching off on some physical pursuit such as more consistent and intense gym visits, kayaking, hiking and biking. By necessity alone, these pursuits would get me through the warmer months with minimal tobacco use, but once the leaves fell and the days got colder and shorter, I too would inevitably fall (off the wagon) and return to my old ways. What would become a definitive disruption of this cycle began in the late summer of 2022 when once again, disgusted with my tobacco use at the time, I dusted off and tuned up the Trek, loaded it on the car and headed to a section of the Empire Rail Trail that I had recently discovered online, but had yet to explore. That day I rode approximately 12 miles out and back, and despite having smoked a number of cigarettes the day before, I found myself falling back in love with being on the bike again. This section of the trail also happened to be an extremely scenic one and has since become one of my favorite go-to rides (that will get its own dedicated article in the near-future). I got a few more rides in that season, but I put the bike away for that winter, and once again toggled in and out of tobacco use. Only this time a seed had germinated and taken root, and my relationship with my bike, the trails and my own well-being would change for the better.

A new love affair...

? ? Throughout the winter of 2023 all I could think about was getting back out onto the Empire Trail and discovering more of it, and?so in early April of that year I donned some warm gear and ventured out for my first ride of the season. As the days grew warmer and longer, the frequency of my rides increased as did the duration between imbibing in any tobacco products. I fell completely in love with this section of the trail, as well as the full-sensory experience of moving through spacetime on 2-wheels under my own power. Instead of getting dusty and rusty, my shiny red bike was now starting to show well-earned signs of wear. I continued to ride throughout the summer, and integrated it into my routine in order to get out as much as I could. I went out before work, I went out after work and got out whenever I could on the weekends too. Despite covering the same ground over and over, I would learn something new and get something different out of my ride each time I went out. I was unapologetically hooked and my family supported me fully, despite my incessant ramblings about the trail and my rides. Once October rolled around and the weather was getting noticeably less hospitable, I made the decision that I was going to keep riding for as long as I could throughout the winter, and that is just what I did. I ended up riding at least once a week for the entire year, and though it wasn’t always easy, and I questioned my own motivations and sanity at times, I learned a lot about myself and riding in the process. I also developed a much deeper relationship with the trail.?Like being with a long-time friend, I was able to stick with the trail through its literal and figurative winter, and in doing so I was rewarded with taking part in all of the changes that were manifesting in real-time. It's been proof positive that beauty exists in everything at all times, you just need to be there to see it.

? ? It’s been exactly a year since I took that fateful ride on that cold April afternoon last year. I didn’t track how many miles I’ve ridden cumulatively in that time, but quick math suggests quite a few, more than I thought I would have ever done on a bike in winter. Now my priorities have evolved, I have a tangible goal and I’m now in full-on training mode, complete with tracking metrics and donning chamois-padded bike shorts (which I learned the hard way are absolutely essential for long-distance comfort and sanity).?After months of research, deliberation and test-rides, I purchased my first drop-bar gravel bike this past February, a beautifully sleek but understated Specialized Diverge Elite. The geometry is more aggressive and the bike begs you to work hard and ride fast. The best analogy I can give is that the upright and casual Trek feels like you’re riding it, whereas the tucked and aggressive Diverge makes you feel as if you are piloting it. While I try to remain practical and somewhat detached from the technical ‘geekery’ that ultimately comes with such pursuits, I can already feel myself slipping down the rabbit-hole of performance enhancing bike mods and training techniques. But I digress.

The trail forward...

?? I do not consider myself a cyclist, but I’m well on my way to becoming ‘something’ and achieving some kind of mastery over myself and the bike. 32 miles out and back may not be any incredible distance, but it is a considerable achievement in what’s been a long and winding road for me up to this point. My goal is to be able to effortlessly cover 100 miles in one day well before our ride in Coeur d’Alene on September 28th. To achieve this I plan on riding as much as I practically can (outdoors of course, I can’t stand stationary bikes) and increasing my mileage incrementally over the course of the next few months. I’ve also recalibrated my diet, habits and routines including weight training, functional training, and mobility routines?to better suit this goal. I’m also doing my best to train mentally, especially with regards to continued tobacco abstinence. Most importantly, I intend on never losing sight of having fun with all of it as biking for me has evolved from a childhood necessity to a privilege as an adult. I'm extremely fortunate to have fallen back in love with the bicycle, and to have been granted a unique opportunity to share this love with some like-minded people for an amazing cause. Yes, I am a truly fortunate individual indeed.

Thank you for lending me some of your precious time and reading this article. Stay tuned for more articles to come as I chronicle this adventure.