I’ve been riding since I was a teenager.
Decades later, I’m still at it — not because I’m trying to break records or prove anything — but simply because I like it.
I go cycling because I like it — not because I’m good at it.
I’ve never needed a finish line to chase or a podium to feel satisfied. Two wheels, a road ahead, and a bit of time to myself? That’s always been enough.
I Ride Because It Grounds Me
One of my most meaningful rides wasn’t even that long. It was a cool spring morning here in Texas. I’d been under a lot of pressure — emotionally, physically, and mentally. My thoughts were heavy, and I needed to shake them loose.
So I got on the bike.
No destination. No heart rate monitor. Just movement.
Somewhere between mile 8 and mile 12, the fog started to lift. The world seemed quieter. The road rolled on, and I followed it. By the time I got back, I was a different man — lighter in spirit, steadier in stride.
That’s why I ride. It centers me.
I’m Not Fast, But I’m Consistent
I’ve ridden thousands of miles, toured through deserts, climbed steep hills, and fought enough headwinds to last a lifetime.
But I’m not fast.
I’ve been passed by kids on fixies, silver-haired legends, and even a guy pulling a dog in a trailer.
I used to feel a little self-conscious about that.
But then I realized — speed doesn’t define my ride. Joy does.
I don’t ride to impress.
I ride to feel connected — to myself, the road, and the moment.
My Daughter Gets It
My 42-year-old daughter is an ultra-distance runner. She’s covered more miles on foot than most people drive in a year. And while she and I have different disciplines, we both understand the quiet fire that endurance lights in your soul.
We love swapping stories after our long efforts.
She tells me about her challenging trail runs in the high elevation setting of Albuquerque; I tell her about my hot and windy rides out here on the Plains while riding country roads. We compare nutrition, talk about gear, and laugh about the strange looks we get from people who don’t understand why we choose to suffer.
But we both know — it’s not suffering.
It’s a kind of freedom.
I Ride Because It Reminds Me I’m Alive
Even on days when my legs feel like lead and the headwind tries to bully me back home, I ride.
Because the rhythm of the pedals, the wind across my face, and the solitude of the open road remind me I’m still here.
And at 69, that’s a gift I don’t take lightly.
To My Fellow Riders Over 60…
You don’t need to be fast. You don’t need to be fancy.
You just need to want to ride.
Start small. Ride what feels good. Forget what anyone else is doing.
Whether it’s five miles or fifty, a bike path or a dusty backroad — your ride is valid.
Your ride matters.
And most of all — your joy matters.
Final Thoughts
I’ve been a cyclist most of my life.
And the older I get, the more I appreciate what a simple bike ride can do for the soul.
So if you see me out there with a big grin and not a care about my pace, just know this:
I’m not out here trying to be great.
I’m out here because cycling still makes me feel alive.
I go cycling because I like it — not because I’m good at it.
Related Reading:
š Cycling Over 60: The Advice I Wish Someone Had Given Me
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