Lessons from the Hairshirt

Sunday was the Hairshirt. 200 miles of torture. With 40kph headwinds for most of the day, the record was not challenged. The heat and humidity more than made up for lack of hills. Even  among the lead group there were crashes, tubular flats and inadvertent bonus miles. I only know this because Peter told me so. I on the other hand, ate ice cream and had a nap on the beach.

Leading up to event day I became completely disinterested in the idea of throttling myself for those 12+ hours. I’d been doing that regularly for the past two months and I just was not having fun any more. Riding was work, an obligation, miles I had to ride. With long days on the saddle and at work, I never had time to actually go out and have fun on my bike. Further, I had not ridden my mountain bike in two months, not since Austin. That needed to change.

Two weeks ago I explored the dirt roads of Prince Edward County on my touring bike. Last week, Adam and I rode our mountain bikes  at the Ganaraska Forest. Feeling newly inspired to ride, the prospect of those 200 miles was totally unappealing. So, early Sunday morning, at the very hour the Hairshirt participants were taking their group photos, I was driving in the other direction towards Prince Edward County.

After a hearty breakfast and an extra cup of coffee, Alison and I took the rail-trail and the McCauley Mountain trails[less of a mountain, more of a hump] for three hours of mountain biking goodness. There were mosquitos, there was mud, there was heat, humidity and blood. It was perfect, just what I needed.

Back at the bike shop, we devoured local ice cream as we drove to the beach. Following a little swim in Lake Ontario, we lounged about and even caught a few winks sleep on the sand. On the way home we picked up locally grown organic strawberries for desert. After dinner and a second glass of whiskey, Kt and I chopped my beard as we laughed and till nearly the midnight hour. This morning, she and I returned to the single-track, joined by an English tourist named Stephen. Again, more merry miles at McCauley, followed by coffee and chocolate croissants. Tonight, free yoga in the park. Not a bad way to spend a couple of days.

Leading up to Sunday, I anguished whether to participate in the Hairshirt. I spoke with many friends and was offered good advice from many perspectives. In the end, I just knew my heart wasn’t in it. And where it was, was on the trails.

But the event did serve a purpose, two actually. First, it gave my riding some focus, compelling me to ride long miles, getting me back in shape after a lazy spring. Second, those miles reminded me not to lose sight of why I ride, they reminded me to enjoy the bike.

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