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Biking
Last Post 05/13/2013 10:08 PM by Michael Merva. 24 Replies.
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Author Messages
bobswire

Posts:289

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05/09/2013 12:45 AM
Oh, what fools junkies are, blowing their money to get high on junk, they don't what getting high is. Ever since I went cold turkey (25 years ago) and gave up all my little substance abuse habits ( booze, cigs, grease and too much sugar) and instead channeled all that wasted energy into biking, I haven't come down yet. Oh and these bikes we get  to play with are just an added perk.

huckleberry

Posts:160

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05/09/2013 09:22 AM
I might have to post my Addiction short story again ; )
bobswire

Posts:289

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05/09/2013 11:47 AM
What's Your Story Is how I should have titled this thread. For me is was going from one addiction (as Huckleberry suggests) to another.
I was going through a tough marriage,had a drinking problem, smoked,occasional drugs and greasy foods. Found myself walking along the beach one day with my son who asked me why don't I stop drinking and smoking? Went cold turkey and I haven't looked back since, cycling was my 12 step program. At 68 I'm healthier than I was at 43.
What got you into or is in my case back into cycling ?
lochness

Posts:47

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05/09/2013 09:29 PM
A chronic knee injury that keeps me from running really made me see the wisdom in non-impact sport. That, and as a former high-school swimmer, I hate the pool.
Mr.Earl

Posts:6

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05/09/2013 10:44 PM
Just testing my ability to post here.
cycling chick

Posts:54

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05/09/2013 11:03 PM
My husband has been cycling for as long as I have known him. When we got married (in 2001) he bought me a fun little Bontrager that I used for our recreational weekend ride. Then, the babies came...

I have four children, but I had the last three within 2.5 years of each other. Between the consecutive pregnancies and then having the babies/toddlers....I drifted away from riding my bike and moved towards running. I did, however, remain a pretty avid supporter of my husband's rides, as well as following professional cycling.

Then a little over a year ago, I tore my right meniscus. I could no longer run or do the elliptical, so I started cycling again. I couldn't believe that I could ride for vast distances and it didn't bother my knee.

In the last year, I have logged a little under 4,000 miles which isn't bad considering that I am just returning to the bike. Now, my bike and I are inseparable.
pikeHillRoad

Posts:95

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05/10/2013 07:16 AM
my story is simple - as a 14 year old I had a father who had raced as a kid, even purchased a masi in Italy when he was an exchange student. Then I had a drastic leg break which limited my ability to run. I grabbed his Windsor (which soon broke, but hey - it was a windsor) and started riding. Loved it, and my memories of high school years included many long rides with my parents and their riding buddies. It all included working for Ritchey in his fab for a summer, and see Jobst Brandt on the dirt roads of the San Mateo County hills. Good times.

The bike is really part of me. Even though I do other things, I always do it, and always love it.
huckleberry

Posts:160

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05/10/2013 08:51 AM
It's an old story...

My name is Christopher Behrens, and I like to ride my bicycle.

I have sat in on the sessions for the past six weeks and listened to your stories and felt your pains. We all need help. There comes a time when we need to look behind us and see where two tire tracks become one. You know, riding side-saddle on Jesus' lap.

Addictions come in many forms, and I've been through my share. Sex, now that was a good one. I now realize that sex is only good if it is performed as intended by the good Lord - a couple of lesbians, a hairless Chihuahua, Elmer's glue, plastic sheets, and a professional videographer.

Drugs, alcohol, food, even binky addictions are rough, but nothing compares to the challenges of bicycle addiction.

It starts out small, insignificant. A Schwinn Stingray (Orange Crate edition with the stick shift and drum brake). It's fun. Your parents even buy it for you - your first hit. Mom and Dad - dealers, pushers, peddlers of the chain driven crank. How is it possible to stay an innocent child with those pressures? Then you see your sister's much too large Schwinn Varsity. You have to try it! Regardless of what happens, you want a taste of what ten-speeds feels like. Nobodies looking, you slide out the garage with it. Take a look back, all clear, and you're off - flying. High as you've ever been. It doesn't matter that your feet barely touch the pedals, much less the ground. You know you will end up in a fiery crash, but that's inconsequential - what matters is the high. The cuts and bruises no deterrent to your need.

We are able to sidestep the accusations for years. "I'm a kid". "I just use it for transportation". "I'm a professional bike racer, it's my career". "My doctor says I need the exercise". Eventually the excuses run out, and usually they run out on others long before they do on ourselves. Especially as we enter middle-age. "Who's the doofus in the tight shorts?" We are the last to see what is controlling our lives - that big pink lycra-clad elephant in the middle of the room.

You don't even need to drive to your local dealer. It's so much easier and discrete online. You can get your fix delivered in an innocent brown cardboard box. Neighbors none the wiser. Ebay! Where do I start? Compound my cycling addiction with that of gambling. I won! I won! How many times have I "accidentally" satisfied my fix with a low bid, "unexpected" in its power of purchase. If the Devil has hooves, he bought 'em on Ebay.

Eventually we all must face ourselves. It's almost never pretty. We ride through aches and pains. Bruises, saddle sores, road rash, pulled muscles, sunburns, hemorrhoids are just rigors du jour, something to secretly take pride in as you bitch with other addicts, but eventually something comes along that completely severs your ability to get your fix.

My awakening came in the form of multiple surgeries in the winter of last. Two ankles and a knee surgeries somehow left me sidelined and on crutches for nearly six months. At first I made excuses to myself that this was a rest period, a time to recuperate. Not much later, I found myself breathing hard for no reason, cursing cyclists as they rode past my cell window.

Detailed plans followed. I devised plans on how I would utilize my future fixes - LSD training, base building, tempo training, lactate threshold training, hills, hill intervals, descending intervals, ascending intervals, jumps, jump starts, sprints. I was piling up future fixes! I had no concern how I would get there. I just would! The only way to stay alive was to look to the fix.

DT's were as bad as they could get. I itched, I scratched, I screamed in horror. Forlorn, I shaved my legs for no legitimate reason, I just needed to feel the razor burn, the ingrown hairs, the two day scruff. Needing more, I found myself pulling on my cycling shorts and crutching around the house, only to dive under the covers as a car would drive by or headlights illuminate the room. I had a lot of shame, but still not enough to stop me.

I think I hit bottom at about the fourth month of my inability to feed my addiction. The planning, the shaving, the shorts, cycling videos – they'd done all they could do to stave off the hunger. I was desperate. Desperate. I knew it was wrong before I did it. Crutching my way down the long hallway, my rational mind told me to stop, it was immoral, wrong! I kept crutching forward, undeterred. Determined to satiate my hunger anyway possible.

Reaching the bathroom, I pulled my cycling shorts down to my knees and sat down on the toilet. I held the container in my hand. I shook as I gazed upon its beauteous simplicity. I slowly unscrewed the top, gazed at the substance. Breathing deep, I took in the aroma. I dug my fingers in, feeling its weight and texture - a creamy lubricant. Unable to control myself any longer, I grabbed my crotch. Pulling the goods aside, I reached between my legs and slathered the Assos chamois cream across my ass. Ecstasy! The menthol burn awakening my sleeping taint. Wanting to escalate the moment further, I pulled my shorts up tight. Shivers ran through me, my senses at their fullest just before I passed out.

I woke curled up in the fetal position on the bathroom floor, my crutches splayed beside me. My crotch wet. My wife crying.

That was my lowest moment.

Now I'm here, with the rest of you. I've accepted that this is a disease, not a choice. I can only do what I can - "one day at a time". I know I can never kick this addiction, it will be with me forever. Just knowing that I have your support is enough, and the love of the Lord.

Most days I look behind me and there is two sets of tire tracks. I don't think it's because Jesus doesn't love me - it's probably because he's not gay and doesn't too much like riding side-saddle with a fella on his lap.

Entheo

Posts:299

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05/10/2013 09:15 AM
nice post huck! :-)

my story in a nutshell:

stingray = freedom as a kid. rode & loved bikes for as long as i can remember.

my first solo ride i ran into a concrete wall and bruised my little jewels on the top tube - ouch - but that didn't stop me.

i remember watching a movie about the TdF on TV as a kid and going to my room and crying like a baby -- wierd, huh?

purchased my first real road bike (c'dale) in the early 80s to crosstrain for tennis. i eventually left tennis for cycling.

have now cycled many parts of the world and loved every minute of it; the best way to see a country is from the seat of a bike. best way to see a grand tour too.

i still enjoy my wine & my wife, so cycling hasn't replaced all my addictions... simply added to them. :-)
THE SKINNY

Posts:233

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05/10/2013 09:18 AM
i hope you have a good support group. it's hard to do it alone.
How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives.
Cosmic Kid

Posts:717

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05/10/2013 11:38 AM
Pretty simple story....had two buddies in school who rode. Was always enamored of the mystique and aura of what they did. At one point, I bought a bike from another fiorend and started "riding" and was getting hooked. Was a USMC Officer Candidate in school, as well. During my second summer of training (shortly after I bought the bike), I hurt my knee was removed form the program.

Now was riding for rehab as well as enjoyment. Hook was firmly set. This would have been 1987.....did a TT in 1988 (goal was to avg. 20 mph, which I did!!) and got my USCF license in 1989. Since then, there have only been 2 years when I did not compete in at least one race.....2002 (doing an addition on our home) and 2010 (recoverring from DVT / PE and Achilles issues).


Just say "NO!" to WCP!!!!
bobswire

Posts:289

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05/10/2013 11:50 AM
Posted By Cosmic Kid on 05/10/2013 11:38 AM
Pretty simple story....had two buddies in school who rode. Was always enamored of the mystique and aura of what they did. At one point, I bought a bike from another fiorend and started "riding" and was getting hooked. Was a USMC Officer Candidate in school, as well. During my second summer of training (shortly after I bought the bike), I hurt my knee was removed form the program.

Now was riding for rehab as well as enjoyment. Hook was firmly set. This would have been 1987.....did a TT in 1988 (goal was to avg. 20 mph, which I did!!) and got my USCF license in 1989. Since then, there have only been 2 years when I did not compete in at least one race.....2002 (doing an addition on our home) and 2010 (recoverring from DVT / PE and Achilles issues).

Did working in the industry help feed your addiction?


ChinookPass

Posts:285

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05/10/2013 12:07 PM
Addictions come in many forms, and I've been through my share. Sex, now that was a good one. I now realize that sex is only good if it is performed as intended by the good Lord - a couple of lesbians, a hairless Chihuahua, Elmer's glue, plastic sheets, and a professional videographer.


crackin' me up!

geosurf

Posts:67

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05/10/2013 12:08 PM
So I'm out for a ride today and I see guy a coming the opposite way on a bent. I couldn't really see him well enough to tell if he was a wounded warrior or not. If you were sir, a huge "Thank You." Anyway I'm getting off the subject. It got me to thinking that if I was to always be riding a bent. I'd have to always wear a Zig-Zag Man tshirt/jersey. In fact I believe, I myself would have to try to look like the Zig-Zag Man. Which got me to thinking about Bob's thread. Not that I EVER inhaled, mind you.
"When I see an adult on a bicycle, I do not despair for the future of the human race." H.G. Wells
Cosmic Kid

Posts:717

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05/10/2013 12:15 PM
Posted By bob etzler on 05/10/2013 11:50 AM
Did working in the industry help feed your addiction?

Yes & no.....it also caused a bit of burnout, and it was one of the reasons why I decided to leave (but not the PRIMARY reason). I reached a point where it was bikes 24/7. I would go to work and deal with bikes, I would read all the cycling news, I would ride with co-workers at lunch, etc. And it eventually wore on my enthusiasm for riding. Had a similar thing back in '92 as I was getting burned out on the retail side of the business. Had just started a large team in the DC area (Kodak EKTAR), was manging one of the bigger shops in the area, racing all the time, etc. My GF at the tiome was also on the team, so we were training together a lot as well. Weekends were alaways about training or racing (or woirking!!). I remember at one point where I finally said to her "Jeez....can't we go on a picnic or something?" So yeah, it does feed your addiction for a long time, but then you kinda OD on it, as well. Which, I guess is true of most addictions.....
Just say "NO!" to WCP!!!!
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