What a Lifetime of Cycling Has Taught Me
Last Updated: July 12, 2026
When I first started riding seriously, I thought the bicycle was simply a great way to stay in shape. I enjoyed the challenge, the fresh air, and the feeling of accomplishment that came at the end of a long ride. I never imagined that cycling would remain such an important part of my life for more than five decades.
Looking back now, I realize that better fitness was only the beginning. If exercise had been the only reward, I probably would have found something easier years ago. What kept pulling me back was not stronger legs, faster times, or another impressive number on a cycling computer. It was the way cycling was quietly changing me as a person.
The bicycle can carry you into situations you never expected. It can place you alone on a road when you have to decide what kind of person you really are. It can introduce you to strangers who challenge your assumptions about people. It can take away a dream in a matter of seconds and force you to decide whether the disappointment will define the rest of your year.
After all these years, I believe that cyclists who keep riding are not necessarily the fastest, strongest, or most naturally gifted. They are the ones who discover that cycling keeps teaching them something worth returning for.
Cycling Gave Me a Moment I Will Never Forget
One of the most powerful experiences of my life happened during the 24 Hours in the Canyon charity ride in Palo Duro Canyon near Amarillo, Texas. I rode 234 miles during that event, but the number itself is not what I remember most clearly.
I remember crossing the 200-mile mark as the sun began peeking over the canyon walls. I had been riding through the night, and my body was exhausted. Every turn of the pedals required effort, but as the light started spreading across the canyon, the pain and fatigue seemed to fade into the background.
For a few moments, the canyon felt completely still. I was overwhelmed by the beauty of the sunrise, by everything my body had carried me through, and by the realization that I was experiencing something I would remember for the rest of my life.
It felt spiritual—one of those rare moments when everything in life seems exactly as it should be.
That moment reminded me that the greatest rewards in cycling cannot always be measured in miles, speed, elevation, or calories. Sometimes the reward is simply being present when the road gives you a moment that seems meant only for you.
Cycling Reinforced the Integrity I Knew Was Inside Me
Long-distance bicycle touring can be exciting, beautiful, and deeply satisfying. It can also be lonely. There are long stretches when you have no one to talk to and nothing to hear except your tires on the road and the thoughts inside your own head.
During one tour in Louisiana, I was trying to find a bicycle trail that started in one town and ended in my destination town when I met a very beautiful woman who began talking with me. What started as a normal conversation quickly became something different. She began flirting with me and suggested that she could meet me later in the town where I planned to spend the night.
I was far from home, traveling alone, and feeling the loneliness that sometimes comes during a long tour. No one I knew would have seen what happened. My wife back home would never have known.
But I would have known.
I turned her down and continued on my way. As I rode away, I felt good about the decision—not because it had been especially difficult, but because the moment confirmed something important to me. My integrity did not depend on whether anyone else was watching.
Cycling did not create that part of my character, but it placed me in a situation where I could see it clearly. The road has a way of stripping away distractions and forcing you to spend time with the person you really are.
Cycling Restored My Faith in People
On another extremely hot and humid day, I stopped at a convenience store and I saw two large men near a vehicle as I approached. I did not know them, and I will admit that my first reaction was uneasiness. They looked intimidating, and for a moment I wondered whether I should keep moving.
Instead, they approached me and began talking. They told me that their late brother had also been a cyclist and that seeing me on the road had reminded them of him. They then opened their cooler and offered me several bottles of cold water.
On a day when the heat and humidity were wearing me down, their kindness meant more than they probably realized. The water helped physically, but their story stayed with me long after the bottles were empty.
I had made a quick assumption based only on their appearance, and I had been completely wrong. They were not a threat. They were two grieving brothers remembering someone they loved, and they wanted to help another cyclist continue safely down the road.
Cycling has introduced me to many strangers over the years. Most of those encounters have reinforced my belief that there are far more good people in this world than bad ones. Sometimes kindness arrives from the people you least expect.
Cycling Taught Me That a Broken Dream Is Not the End
Last year, I trained for months to ride from San Diego, California, to Las Cruces, New Mexico. I put in thousands of training miles, worked on my climbing, planned the route, and prepared myself for the heat and long days.
That tour had become one of the biggest goals of my year. I had invested an enormous amount of time, effort, and emotion into getting ready for it.
Then, only 34 miles into the first day, a freak accident brought the entire trip to an end. A rag I had been carrying became caught in the rear derailleur and destroyed it, broke my chain, destroyed my derailleur hanger, and took out 7 of my spokes. In a matter of seconds, the tour I had trained for all year was over.
I was crushed mentally. There is no better way to describe it. I had barely begun, and suddenly I was loading a broken bicycle instead of continuing toward New Mexico. All the planning and anticipation disappeared before I had even completed the first day.
For a while, I could have allowed that disappointment to ruin the rest of my cycling year. Instead, after I returned home and had time to absorb what had happened, I decided to change direction.
I began signing up for organized single-day rides. Month after month, I found another event to train for and another reason to stay excited about cycling. What began as a painful summer gradually turned into one of the most enjoyable seasons of riding I had experienced in years.
The season ended in late October, only about a month before my 70th birthday, when I completed the Day of the Tread in Albuquerque, New Mexico. It turned out to be the fastest 50 mile ride that I had ridden in my last 15 years.
That did not erase the disappointment of losing the San Diego tour, but it changed the ending of the story. The accident took away one goal, but it did not take away my entire year.
Sometimes life does not give us the experience we trained for, planned for, or thought we deserved. Cycling has taught me that when the original road closes, the only useful choice is to find another one.
Cycling Taught Me to Accept a New Definition of Success
This year, I faced a different kind of lesson. I began a supported bicycle tour expecting to ride somewhere around 650 miles. By the time the trip ended, I had ridden 366 miles.
Years ago, I might have focused on the miles I did not complete. I might have viewed anything less than the original distance as a disappointment. For much of my cycling life, a successful tour meant pushing through long days and proving that I could ride farther than most people thought possible.
During this latest tour, however, I began to accept that the days of riding more than 100 miles in a touring day are probably behind me. At my age, 50 to 60 miles a day is closer to the distance that allows me to ride well, recover, and enjoy doing it again the following morning.
That realization could have felt like a loss. Instead, it felt more like freedom.
I discovered that riding 50 or 60 miles still gave me everything I wanted from a bicycle tour. One of my days was only a 50 mile day. It became one of the most enjoyable days I've ever had on a bicycle. I could experience the scenery, visit small towns, talk with people, enjoy meals along the way, and finish each day tired without feeling completely destroyed. It was at that moment that I decided to cut down my mileage and enjoy the tour even more than usual.
I no longer need a 100-mile day to prove that I am a serious cyclist. I have already had those experiences, and I am grateful for every one of them. Today, success is not about recreating the rider I was years ago. It is about continuing to enjoy the rider I am now.
Growing older does require adjustments. Pretending otherwise does not make us younger; it only makes it harder to appreciate what we can still do. I would rather ride 50 enjoyable miles than suffer through 100 simply because that is what I once expected from myself.
Lessons the Bicycle Has Taught Me
Looking back, I realize that the bicycle has been one of my greatest teachers. The lessons did not come all at once. They arrived one ride, one setback, and one unexpected encounter at a time.
Perseverance: Keep moving when the road becomes harder than expected.
Integrity: Character matters most when no one else is watching.
Gratitude: Some of life’s greatest moments cannot be measured by numbers.
Faith in People: Kindness often comes from complete strangers.
Resilience: A disappointment does not have to become the end of the story.
Acceptance: Growing older does not mean giving up. It often means learning a different way to enjoy what you love.
Why Do Some Cyclists Keep Coming Back?
People sometimes assume that lifelong cyclists keep riding because they are unusually disciplined or obsessed with fitness. Discipline certainly helps, but I do not think it explains why someone remains excited about cycling for 40, 50, or 60 years.
The cyclists who keep riding discover that the bicycle gives them something they cannot easily replace. It becomes a place to think, a way to explore, a source of confidence, and a reminder that they are still capable of doing difficult things.
The bicycle teaches patience when the headwind refuses to stop. It teaches humility when another rider passes without appearing to make any effort. It teaches gratitude when the sun rises over a canyon after a long night on the bike.
It tests integrity when no one else is watching. It restores faith in people when strangers offer help. It teaches resilience when months of preparation end in a single mechanical failure, and it teaches acceptance when age asks us to ride differently than we once did.
Those lessons become more valuable than another number on the odometer.
The Gear That Has Helped Me Keep Riding
The most important things cycling has given me cannot be purchased. Still, the right equipment has helped me ride more safely, comfortably, and confidently as I have grown older.
I have put together a separate page featuring the cycling gear I personally use and recommend. These are not random products chosen from an online catalog. They are items that have earned a place in my rides through actual use.
See the Cycling Gear I Actually Use
Final Thoughts
When I first started riding, I thought success meant going farther, riding faster, and proving that I could accomplish things most people would never attempt.
Today, I measure success differently. Success is still feeling excited when I roll my bicycle out of the garage. It is watching the sun rise from a quiet road, meeting kind strangers, recovering from disappointment, and learning that slowing down is not the same thing as giving up.
People sometimes ask how long I plan to keep riding. My answer is that I hope to ride for as long as I can do it safely.
I am no longer trying to chase the cyclist I was 20 years ago. I am trying to appreciate the cyclist I am today and remain open to whatever the road still has left to teach me.
That may be the real reason some cyclists never stop riding. The bicycle continues to make us stronger, but not always in the ways we expected.
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