The Oh Man, What Ifs...

You know, I have sat down many times over the past few years to write this post. Nothing that I composed ever sounded quite right, or said quite what I wanted it to. Instead, There were various reason, but in the end, I believe it was always a case of not being able to admit that, perhaps, I am not quite the rider I once was. 

Anyway,

I did a group ride on Sunday, a ride I will call a team ride, since we were all Ordinary Cyclists. It was a fun road ride, a loop I have done multiple times in the past, a largely level loop, but with a few moderate ups, and downs, for a little challenge. When the road turned sharply downward there was little I could do but watch the others ride away. Alright, I am going to be frank for a minute; frank about a topic that I have alluded to, even written of in the past, in a round about sort of way.

It is something I have long referred to as Cyclist PTSD.

Important: Keep in mind that when I use the term Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, I do not mean to minimize the affliction that impacts the lives of so many current and former military veterans. Their PTSD affects every aspect of their lives while, what I term Cyclist PTSD only impacts times on the bike. In that, there is no comparison, but over time, as I thought more and more about it, I began to realize that crashes in races, crashes during training, other times just out for a spin, reading about bicyclists being injured, even killed while riding the roads on an otherwise quiet morning, being involved in two such collisions with inattentive drivers myself, and who knows how many near misses, and then, perhaps, the accumulation of thoughts about those things, was impacting my own riding. Perhaps the toll had been building over time; crashes resulting in little more than abraded skin, torn kit, others resulting in hits to the head, dislocated knees, were adding up. Perhaps, I thought, PTSD does not have to relate only to military combat situations. Perhaps it can have other origins as well.

Confession: There was a period of time when I completely gave up on the road bike because of Cyclist PTSD. In my case, I limit it to the road bike, because it has never "hit" me while on the mountain bike. I have always attributed that to the fact that mountain bike speeds tend to be lower, descents shorter and, at least for me, more controlled braking in response to obstacles and tighter turns. Then again, I have never (knock on wood) had a "bad" spill on the mtb.

I can still remember the first time it really hit as clear as if it were yesterday - descending Highway 39 from Crystal Lake, a long straight stretch of the road, right about the same place I had earlier topped 50mph for the first time during a team training ride. This time, though, I started thinking - oh, man, if I crash now... it is not going to be good - I began to imagine the aftermath, based on all the lower-speed experiences. The bike began to wobble. I looked down to see the front end going back and forth like a piece of spaghetti. That did not help. I unclipped both feet, and began to visualize "tuck and roll," in anticipation of what I believed would be an imminent crash. Somehow, after what seemed like a very long time, I managed to slow to a stop. The crash never happened. After "collecting" myself, I kicked off from the verge and, though never reaching quite the same speed highs I had before, made it the rest of the way down canyon without incident. 

An aberration, I believed.  A fluke that would never happen again.

And for a while it didn't. But then it did. Again. And again. I read and listened and everyone said the same - frame geometry, or set up. While I could understand the reasoning, and see how that might be the case other times, I knew this was different. I was well seasoned and had ridden a range of "aggressive" (for their time) racing bikes without problem. 

It all came back to the thought, the oh man, if I crash now... Each time the wobble started it had been preceded by that thought.

We moved to Claremont, and the Mt. Baldy Road was right in my back yard. That is a climb for you. It is also a descent. Not long after, there was a story in the paper about a cyclist, a visitor to the area, an older rider who crashed and lost his life while descending nearby Mountain Avenue. I imagined him thinking "oh man," getting the front-end wobble and going down head-first. The "oh man, what if..." hit me one day while descending back into town, and I decided that was it. The Wilderness Park (or what would eventually become the Wilderness Park) was right there. I could just ride mountain bikes all the time.

I had never experienced doubt about my ability in the past, I knew I was not pro-caliber, but that is not the ability I mean. I am talking about the simple ability to keep upright on two wheels. Of course the not-so-funny thing is you don't have to be less than pro-caliber for the "oh man, what if..." to hit. Was it not just a few years ago when a pro in Le Tour, with a big gap on the peloton following an arduous climb, was seized by the "oh man, what ifs..." and was unable to continue. The worst thing about Cyclist PTSD - it takes the fun away. I have always lived to climb, but the realization that a descent awaits on the other side of that climb tempered it, finally took the fun away. I stopped doing those climbs because of what came after. 

Over the passing years I have discovered things about the "oh man, what ifs," discovered ways to manage when "it hits." 1. It is more likely to hit during solo rides. I think the mind turns inward, and that is where "oh man, what if..." lives. 2. Group rides. Yes, believe it nor not group rides help. There is more going on around you, others to interact with, attention turns outward, rather than inward. 3. Just Ride. Giving up on the road was never going to be the answer; for too long it has been too big a part of my life. More riding equates to more confidence. 4. Focus. Focus is a strange one because it can work either way. Focus that turns inward, to the "oh man, what if..." leads exactly where you would expect it. I don't recommend doing so in a group, but one time (solo) I actually yelled out "NO," to break the spell. It worked. Focus on a particular task, though, such as the chase that comes after a descent on which you have fallen behind, is something else. That is constructive focus. 5. Distraction. There have been times when I have been able to break the spell simply by looking around, removing my eyes from the fen feet of roadway right in front of me. While this is basic cycling 101 - always, Always! keep your eyes moving, it is also easy to fall into a lull when riding familiar roads. 6. Block it out. Some people are better than others when it comes to blocking out certain things - anything from annoying music to that passing stream of cars. For some people it comes naturally, for others it takes effort, maybe even training. This goes hand in hand with point #5 - use distraction to block out the "oh man, what ifs." 7. Even though the "oh man, what ifs" are a mental thing, rather than mechanical, relating to the bike, front end wobble can still be managed the same way - press a knee against the top tube to stop the spaghetti-effect. 8. Learn to ride loose. When the "oh man, what if..." hits I have noticed the tendency to tighten, or tense up in response; just remember to "lighten up dude."

These days I am attempting to let the road bike play an ever greater role in my weekly routine, but always, I know, lurking in some dark corner at the back of my mind is the belief that the "oh man, what if..." could hit at any time. If you see me falling off the back in the middle of a long descent, or if you reach the bottom and notice I am not there, this is why. It sucks, it is a fu**ng demon, and until I discover a way to completely manage, it will keep me from racing the road but, as you may have read last week, I ain't no wimp, so I will be out there, sometimes a little faster, some places a little slower, but out there.