Ever hop on your bike and everything feels perfect? I mean everything. The saddle. Your bibs. Your position. The brake hoods against your hands where thumbs meet palms. The snugness of your shoes after you rachet down the buckle. The suppleness of your quadriceps, calves and Achilles tendons as you turn the cranks.
Then there’s the effortless breathing. A heart that purrs instead of pounds. Lungs and diaphram in harmony. You can’t believe it. Finally. Nothing feels labored. There’s no headwind, or oppressive heat or tingling cold. Everything feels right. The air. The light. The road ahead. Pefect.
This early evening was one of those times. All of it felt perfect. And best: The feeling was unexpected, which made it all the more sweeter. Before getting on the bike, there had been a harried day in the office. Sluggish legs. A head full of worrisome thoughts and stress. A missed lunch ride, thanks to 95-degree heat. Frankly, I had the lowest of expectations at 6 p.m. Only hoping to spin for an hour or so. Almost passing on the whole idea.
Then, suddenly: On the bike. Feeling good, then feeling great, then actually things feeling pretty darn perfect. Keep going until sundown. I can’t explain it. Pushing down on the pedals and going faster up a stiff climb. Rolling over clean pavement. Looking down at the computer and seeing data I haven’t seen in a while. Higher average mph going uphill while on the heavier bike with heavier wheels? Wonderment. Is this for real? Can I make it last?
That’s the mystery of cycling and so many other sports. Moments of perfection are few and fleeting. We can’t force them. We can only recognize them and experience them. Then say thanks. Thanks for a chance to taste something so pure, so beautiful, so timeless that we marvel. If we could bottle the feeling and sell it, we’d be billionaires. Really. It’s that rare. When it all feels perfect is the Wednesday crave. I hope you’ve experienced it, too.
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I’m man enough to admit that I had an emotionally significant moment with my bike today.