Watch any race, read any website or scroll social media, and you’ll be bombarded with the latest and greatest bikes and products, along with a gazillion ways to make you faster, ride further, or just be better.
It’s easy to get caught up in the hype of it all. There’s no doubt these things are exciting and cool, and if you’re a diehard fan of mountain biking like I am, just wondering what these new bits of kit or training techniques might bring to your riding becomes hard to ignore. It’s marketing at its finest.
But all of that can lead to a feeling of missing out, being left behind on a tech trend or guilty because you had to miss the last ride and you’re now less fit and don’t feel as comfy on the bike as you’d like, and that sucks.
It’s a mindset that’s all too easy to fall into. It was definitely something I was feeling last summer after a nasty chest infection and too much time behind a computer.
But a steady ride on a clapped-out town bike on the bike paths of Holland made me forget all that and reminded me why I love riding bikes so much.
FOMO to the max
I’ve ridden and raced mountain bikes for well over three decades now and can’t imagine my life without two wheels. And although mountain bikes might be my first choice, I’m not exactly fussy what sort of bikes there are.
I’m obsessed, and also incredibly fortunate to do the job I do. Testing bikes and kit is amazing. It's a genuine dream come true.
I am terrible at switching off, though. Not just from a testing point of view, but from a riding and performance perspective, too.
If I’m not questioning my suspension settings, I’m berating myself for braking too late, or missing the line I should have hit.
Then, of course, there’s the ride stats. It’s a weird thing but I’m obsessed with climbing a certain elevation before I can head home and if I can’t manage it, I feel like I’ve failed in some way. That’s probably not a healthy outlook, but it’s thinking in this way that made me quit Strava.
It’s just the way I am. But the overthinking can impact my enjoyment of the ride. It’s something I don’t want to happen but sometimes find it hard to avoid.
If I’m pedalling a bike, I’m constantly switched on and can forget (maybe just for a while), why I got into riding bikes in the first place.
This was a habit I struggled to shake last summer.
I’d been battling a chest infection that just wouldn’t seem to go. This in turn meant I couldn’t ride as much as I wanted, couldn’t get keep my fitness and endorphins topped up, and couldn’t do my job to the best of my abilities. It really started to take on toll on me.
And any time I opened my phone, all I could see was clips of friends riding which made me feel like I was really missing out.
It’s a horrible feeling and one I struggled to shake (a bit like the chest infection). I just wanted to ride.
Keep it simple, stupid
Despite my low mood, we packed the car and headed to Holland for a family camping holiday. With a lack of phone signal, it was easy to start forgetting what I was missing out on and start having more fun.
One day, we decided to hire bikes and ride to play crazy golf out in the middle of the Dutch countryside.
While the kids had their regular rides, my wife and I hired a couple of town bikes from the campsite.
It was the first time riding a bike like this for me. It had three gears, a coaster brake and the most flexible bar and stem I’ve ever held. But what a bike it turned out to be.
On quiet cycle paths, I cruised along the smooth tarmac with nothing to think about other than gently turning the pedals.
I had no need to consider what the bike was doing, or if my elbows were out far enough when plopping off curbs. I could just ride.
It sounds cheesy, but it felt so liberating. I almost always ride with a purpose and in that moment, I could just enjoy the simplicity of cycling. I bloody loved it.
More than anything, it reminded me I why I love bikes so much. They’re not only great tools: they bring joy and mouth-stretching grins. It took me back to being six years old, razzing around the housing estate on my first BMX. It was fun. Nothing more, nothing less.
My day on this old, clapped-out town bike helped me in a lot of ways.
Once we got back to the UK and my chest finally got better, I vowed that I’ll make the most of every single ride, no matter how short or infrequent, or even how fit I’m feeling, and that I’ll always keep things as fun as possible.
That’s why I started, and I need to remember that. We all do.
