Pilot Light
The first of what I hope to be many contributions to My Back 40.
Brian Szklarczuk @prairievelocycle and I first spoke on the Bikepack Canada podcast about his new project Prairie Velo, that will focus on making cycling and bikepacking more accessible to everyone.
If you’d like to contribute to My Back 40, please reach out!
Pilot Light
We’ve seen dramatic changes over the last month in the way we work and live. And we’ve all learned that we have an important role to play in reducing the risks associated with COVID, this virus which has caused so much disruption and loss of life. I spent over fifteen years on the front lines of outbreaks negotiating partnerships to contain viruses like this one. I worked alongside some amazing mentors in infectious-disease control. It was a wild ride.
Away from that milieu and with time on my hands to pause and reflect, I’ve taken to thinking about those things that are most important in life and those that have brought the most love, peace and fulfillment in mine. Through all my ups and downs, cycling has been a constant and it has always brought me back down to earth.
I’m well versed in the brutal isolation Prairie winters can impose on us for months on end, but the reality of containment and social distancing has brought it up a notch and surprisingly, in a positive way.
In the uncertainty of these times, I’ve taken up some activities which even six months ago, would have seemed unimaginable for me, and a foreign language altogether: meditation, self-reflection, mindfulness and being “present.”
Finding serenity and simplicity while I ride has been somewhat challenging. Emulating yoga poses while riding Kreitler rollers takes some serious practice. Finding calmness in this era of Zwift, Rouvy, Stages, SufferFest, TrainerRoad and Peloton, is near impossible.
A prominent Yin Yoga meditation trainer, Bernie Clarke, talks about “calming our monkey mind.” Some people call it mindfulness but the idea is as old as time. I started to incorporate his yoga seminars into my morning roller sessions. In the process, I was reminded of my earliest days of winter riding. My first seasons, about 30 years ago, stand in stark contrast to what riders are doing now. I rode in two technology-free zones (TFZ), first my parents’ damp, dingy cold basement in Winnipeg’s North End. Later, in a furnace room, no bigger than the average bathroom.
My equipment was simple, a pair of worn Cinelli 1970’s rollers and a worn, celeste green Bianchi track bike. The rollers were loud. With the whirring of these old Cinelli beasts and a hearing disability, listening to music wasn’t an option. These were the days before the iPod, colour TV (for me at least) and even VCRs (remember those?) Despite the total absence of distractions, I found it hard to concentrate. My mind kept wandering from European racing adventures to my riding technique and making sure I didn’t fly into the furnace.
It was after hitting the edge of the furnace about 20 times that I began to notice the faint whirring noise that it made. It was the pilot light. Its flicker was a gentle wave to which I could synchronize my spin.
I began staring at it as a way to focus on “something.” I also started to focus on something else, just as simple, that didn’t cost anything—breathing. In, hold, out, hold. Repeat. Long in-breath, hold, exhale. Repeat. About a million times. The rides were still hard. I continued to fly off the rollers from time to time. It was always damp and cold, but there was a certain calmness to my rides.
Since those early days, I’ve used every indoor training technique on the market from CompuTraining to PowerTap, FTP to heart rate, to apps of all kinds and, of course, watching those same race highlights, over and over.
But about six months ago, even before COVID, I started reflecting on why I ride and the space it occupies in my life. I also started to look for ways of bringing back some of the serenity I found in cycling while staring at that pilot light.
The dingy basement has been replaced by a newly built, heated bike shed, but the power meter has long been turned off and my apps disabled. I’ve stopped caring about FTP performance, maximum power output, or zone time. Instead, I’ve been working on quieting the monkeys in my mind by focusing on the present. Breathing. With purpose.
Brian Szklarczuk
