Earlier this week, Tuesday to be exact, I was just relaxing after a couple of long days.
I had led the fast group on Monday night.
I ran around like a headless chicken all day Tuesday and then guided our youth mountain bike club through Woods Creek on Tuesday evening.
Next on the list that night was getting the kids to bed. As I emerged from Regan’s bedroom, everyone finally sleeping, Chenoa let me know she was going for a road ride.
It was perfect. Nothing to do, no one to entertain, zero responsibilities. The ideal time to relax, watch my favourite show, and enjoy a beer.
That lasted about 10 minutes. Then without truly realizing what I was doing, I put the beer down, wandered into the garage, and grabbed my hard tail.
Chenoa arrived home an hour later to find me hammering out lap after lap around the back yard pump track.
Somewhere around lap 200, I started to wonder, “Am I extremely passionate about cycling, or is this is an obsession?”
I started riding when I was two years old. There have been a few lulls over the years, but for the most part, biking has been near the top of the priority list for 47 years.
So, how do you tell if your passion has advanced to an unhealthy obsession? I went through my past and recalled some decisions made in the interest of biking.
I gave up a prosperous plumbing career to get into the bike industry. (I didn’t like plumbing much anyway and money isn’t that important.)
I once bailed on an all-expense-paid trip to Euro-bike, because I wanted to race in Quebec. (It was a World Cup race though, so completely normal right?)
After breaking my arm, I had the clinic customize my cast to fit with my handle bars. (Why miss rides just because of medical opinions?)
I once had to use my bike as a crutch to get to the start line of a Canada Cup DH race. My ankle was sprained so badly I couldn’t walk on it, but somehow pedalling was possible. (The adrenaline made for good pain management and I finished second, so take that doubters.)
When we moved to the Island, we chose our location strictly for the riding. (Isn’t that why everyone lives here?)
I’m pretty sure cycling cost me my first marriage. (No brainer, I was riding the shore a lot then, you would have done the same thing in my shoes)
I gave up another prosperous career to start a bike shop and live the life. (Now I’m living it … with no regrets.)
So, as I finally felt my lungs give out and my quads cramp, I wrapped up the pump track session, and I reasoned that I’m just a passionate guy who like bikes.
Maybe every passion has a bit of obsession mixed in and I’ve definitely made some sacrifices along the way, but if I had to do it over again, I wouldn’t change a thing.
I’m James Durand and I’m Goin’ Ridin’…