Truths From the Saddle

Stuff I’ve learned from the (bike) saddle:

Eight years ago, I was a smoker. I had been for almost a decade. It was a huge part of my life: my self-image, my routine, the way I made friends. I’d tried to quit many times. It just never stuck.

Scrolling Instagram in my Portland apartment one day, I stumbled upon an image that blew my mind. Some skinny dude on a bike entered the screen, fully embodying the idea of fun. He had a long beard, no helmet, and short shorts. He was blasting down a steep dirt road in a forest. His ride looked like a classic road bicycle, but had big chunky tires. The look on his face was pure joy.

I wanted it.

I dove into this guy’s posts, and a bunch of related accounts.

Eventually it hit me: Even though I wanted to, I couldn’t do what they were doing. I was out of shape. I was a smoker. I couldn’t even run short distances comfortably.

But I wanted it.

A lot.

I made a deal with myself: If I quit smoking, I’d buy myself a more appropriate bike, and start going on wild adventures. I would do what these Instagram bike people were doing.

The Big Quit didn’t happen that day. Or that week. But it happened eventually. When it did, it happened quickly. I was just done. I quit in 2017, on January 8th. 

And I got the bike.

I got a few of ‘em actually.

Since then, I’ve traded ‘em around, tweaked ‘em, bought and sold ‘em, and figured out what I like. I’ve ridden my bikes long distances, for many days, through some of the most difficult situations I’ve ever faced. Honestly, trading cigarettes for bikes was one of the best decisions I ever made. I don’t think it’s saved me any money (I spend my money on bikes now), but it’s improved my life immeasurably.

The swap has put me through the ringer at times. I’ve learned some lessons from the saddle that I think apply to the rest of life. I’d like to share five with you. 

…And then you’ll get some bonus lessons from my wife.

-The rain eventually stops.

In early 2021, my wife and our friend Ted planned a 3-4 day bike tour from Eugene into the Coast Range and back. When I saw the elevation gain for the trip (I think it was around 12,000 feet), I told them to have fun. I’d be staying home.

…And then I forgot.

Or maybe I thought they had changed route to accommodate me.

I probably thought I had that kind of sway with them.

The route hadn’t changed though.

Day one was rough.

Day two was the hardest day I’ve ever had on a bike. It started raining in the morning, and it never stopped. The temperature dropped. I couldn’t get my mittens on, because my fingers were too cold to move, and the fleece inside the mittens would stick to my clammy grippers. I had two shitty clubs for hands, but needed to control a bike loaded with camping gear and food. 

To make matters worse, we didn’t quite remember how much climbing we were in for that day. At every summit, we celebrated, thinking that was the final climb. We probably had that celebration five times.

And then came the gnarliest climb of the day.

Shivering uncontrollably, I pushed my bike up and over Roman Nose, a mountain that would be difficult to summit in good weather and without a load. At the top, the wind was brutal. The trees were horizontal. The rain still hadn’t stopped, and now it stung.

With Rachel’s help, I finally got the mittens over my hands. On the way down, I shivered so intensely I thought I might go off the road.

After a long descent, we found the “perfect” campsite. We could see a perfectly flat little patch of grass, about 50 ft from the road. To reach it, we carried our loaded bikes through a patch of thorny blackberry. I began setting up the tent, trying with all my might to smack a stake into the ground. No go. I looked down at my bruised hands and started shaking again. Using the stake to scrape the grass away, I almost began to cry. The beautiful little meadow turned out to be an asphalt road with grass growing on top.

We slept the night in the rain, in droopy tents, completely soaked. 

During the night, a tree dropped a large branch through Ted’s tent.

We learned that our water resistant gear was not waterproof.

All of our panniers (bags) had filled with water.

The next day, the rain was mostly gone.

It’s not always the next day. Sometimes it’s next week. Sometimes it’s not until you get home, wherever home is. But the rain does stop. You’ve just gotta get through it, knowing it’ll pass. It’s hard in the moment, but you can do it! Nowadays, whenever I’m caught in the rain, I tell myself “It can’t be as bad as that.”

And I know I’ll be fine.

You can apply this thinking towards any rough stuff you run into. Think of all the crazy shit you’ve already survived. Whatever today brings can’t be as bad as that. And even if it is, you’ll figure it out. It’ll pass.

-Ditch the heavy stuff.

On my first few bike trips, including a portion of the Oregon Outback, I carried REAL DUMB SHIT. I truly thought I needed it. I brought hiking boots, in case I wanted to hike at the end of the day (after biking, you idiot?). I brought five pounds of candy once. And a power bank that was basically a brick in my bag, for a trip where we rarely had cell service. My phone never died. I didn’t charge anything.

Off the bike, I often hold onto other dumb, heavy shit:

-Stuff I never use, but it was a gift.

-Trinkets from sad times. Just looking at them makes me sad.

-Food I won’t eat, but that hasn’t expired.

-Habits that keep me comfortable, but that don’t help me.

-Relationships that aren’t helpful, but I’ve invested a lot of time into.

EVERY SINGLE TIME I ditch this kind of stuff, the journey gets easier. Seriously. I try to do a purge of heavy things in my life regularly. Sometimes it’s physical clutter, sometimes it’s emotional or mental clutter. Social clutter isn’t often talked about, but I go through phases of clearing that, as well. Just because you’ve been doing something for a while doesn’t mean you need to continue doing it.

There is no helpful clutter.

There is no helpful dead weight. 

Let it go, knowing you’ll be okay without it.

(TIP: Check out Gretchen Rubin’s “Outer Order, Inner Calm.”)

-Eat well, go further.

Ted and I met some wild characters on a bike trip a few years ago. One guy in particular changed my outlook on long rides forever. We met Bas at a grocery store near Smith Rock. He was older than us, but was an absolute machine, covering a hundred miles a day without a problem.

We ended up staying in a hostel together, and the next morning I watched Bas pour a bag of salad into a bowl for breakfast. I was blown away.

“You’re just eating salad for breakfast?”

“Well yeah, the first part of breakfast.”

He ate a bunch of vegetables, and then had some oatmeal or something. 

Normal food.

Not scientifically formulated nutrition for peak performance.

I’d been conned by the “performance foods” marketing. I’d been eating protein bars and chugging Gatorate, while generally feeling like shit. It sounds crazy saying it now, but I had no idea you could just eat “normal food” on a bike tour. 

I’d felt like shit on every bike tour up to that point. Bas was doing great, so I decided to try out “normal food.” From that day forward, I bought fruit and salads, fish and nuts, and even kimchi instead of whatever packaged/processed bullshit I’d been consuming before.

I became my own version of a superhero. I could ride longer, my guts felt better, and my attitude was less negative. I still complained though. Gotta do that a little bit on a long ride.

Eat good food.

Don’t eat too much of it.

Don’t eat too little, either.

Limit the stuff that makes you feel gross.

Pay attention to how you feel, so you know what helps.

This one’s not a metaphor. Just don’t eat like shit, and you won’t feel like shit. It should be a no-brainer, but it took me a long time to learn.

-Bring a friend.

Sometimes you can move faster on your own.

Faster isn’t always better, though.

You’ve probably heard about that study on loneliness, where social isolation turned out to be as bad for one’s health as smoking 15 cigarettes a day. That’s not insignificant.

Bring a buddy. Have good conversations. Get deep. Bounce ideas around. Develop a deeper relationship. Give support and receive it.

Without friends, life is dull and sad.

Even riding a bike, which is already pretty great, is better with friends.

Call a friend.

Arrange a hangout.

-Plan ahead.

Every successful bike tour needs a plan. 

Gotta know where you’re going.

Gotta know the timeline.

Gotta bring supplies.

Backup plans are great, too. If things don’t go right, you need a good way to recover and keep going (or get rescued!).

Just like on a bike tour, where I want to know my destination and timeline, I like a plan for the rest of my life. How can I get what I want if I don’t make a plan? And do I even know what I want? Probably worth sitting down and figuring out the situation.

I’ve got a book I’ve been writing in since 2012. When I flip through it, I can easily see I’ve been following a plan, or a map, for years. 

There’s a page in there that describes my ideal life partner’s qualities (Rachel checked every single box but one when we met). Since I had the qualities listed out, in order of importance, it was easier for me to make a decision about who I’d spend my time with.

There’s another page that describes my ideal life, including how many hours I want to work per day, how many days I want to work per week, and what kind of work I want to do. It describes how I want to spend my money in my ideal life. It describes the kind of house I want to live in, what kind of yard I want, and what kind of vehicle I want to own. I decided to abandon the idea of owning my favorite truck, though.

The crazy thing about planning so many things in advance?

My life looks almost EXACTLY like those pages in the book.

I’ve hit those goals, milestones, etc., and have new ones.

My work life is almost exactly how I wrote it in the book.

My house looks like the one I wrote about.

My wife is the person I’d hoped for.

The planning paid off.

Of course, after executing on the plan, I’ve got new goals, new struggles, and new information.

The journey has no end.

The important thing is to have a plan.

Remain open to changing it or adding to it (you’ll have to).

Make sure you know where you’re going, so you can get there.

BONUS: Stuff Rachel has learned:

-You can always bike a little more.

When your muscles are sore, you’re tired, and you’re covered in sweat, it’s hard to keep going. But somehow, you can keep pedaling.

There are times when stopping isn’t an option.

And in those moments, you’ll notice you’re a little stronger than you thought you were.

Sometimes you’re completely full after a huge dinner. No way in hell could you fit another bite in your mouth.

…But then dessert shows up.

And all of a sudden, you’ve found a little more room in your tum tum.

This phenomenon occurs when you’ve exhausted all your resources physically. It happens when you’re worn out mentally. It happens when you inhale all the way, and then inhale just a little more. You’re always capable of more than you initially thought. Your brain’s trying to trick you into stopping. It wants to conserve your energy, to avoid pain, to maximize pleasure and comfort.

If you’re tired, you can probably go a little further.

Note: It doesn’t mean you have to. You’ll know when you should go a little further. When that time comes, go a little further. ‘Cause you can.

-Some stuff just takes time.

We all hate this. We hate delayed gratification. We want it now. We want the accomplishment, the congratulations, the stability, the finish line. But much of the stuff we really desire takes time. 

On a bike, 50 miles takes a while. It certainly takes longer than the same distance in a car. If you’re going to go 50 miles, you’ve gotta accept that it’s going to feel like a slog sometimes. Sit back and enjoy the ride. Check out some birds. Notice the clouds. Feel the breeze.

Just ‘cause it takes time doesn’t mean it has to feel like suffering.

-Rest is important.

As a counterpoint to going a little further when necessary, it’s important to remember to rest. You can’t put it all on the line, all day, all of your life. There are times to go hard, and there are times to rest.

Muscle is built during rest and recovery.

Your brain builds connections while you are sleeping.

You absolutely have to rest in order to make progress.

So when you need one, take a fuckin’ break.

Thanks for reading! I hope you found something useful. If you did, please consider sharing this with others. Shoutouts on social media are super helpful, as is word of mouth.

-Nate