Notes Along the Way- Week 12
At the last minute this past week, I entered the PA Randonneur Ronde Van White Clay 200k. I wasn't sure I was ready for the elevation or the recovery cost to my Unbound training. But the weather was perfect, the route was beautiful, and something in me just said yes. So I stayed overnight at a Philadelphia hostel with other riders, out of practicality for the early morning start and as a way to add to the adventure.
That night, younger riders arrived from Brooklyn and NYC, bikes in tow, having taken the train. I was immediately struck by how unapologetically central cycling was to their lives — stories of city rides, 1200ks completed, big goals ahead. No defensiveness, no justification. Just people who had found their thing (at an envious young age!) and built their lives around it. One woman planned to ride the 200k, spend another night at the hostel, and then ride home to Brooklyn. I would love to do that — and in many ways, I already am that person. Last year I bikepacked from home to Seneca Lake, to join my running club for a relay race. The same freedom, the same instinct. But where she seemed to carry it lightly, I tend to wrestle with it afterward, feeling the cost of doing something for myself.
The 200k did what long rides always do — stripped away the mental noise and put me squarely in the present. No planning, no rehashing. Just hills, fog lifting off the city, conversations with strangers about bikes and routes and why we do this. I had a complicated flat that derailed my time goals and required a trip to a bike shop, and honestly it was the best thing that happened. I let go of expectations entirely. When I rejoined other riders, I was relaxed and chatty, just happy I was still able to ride. I did indulge the desire to push myself by riding the last 27 miles alone and it was like flying. I felt alive.
Coming home was different. Not from my family — they're wonderfully supportive and busy with their own lives. The questioning came from inside. Did I deserve a whole day like that? Was it too indulgent? Those young riders seemed so free of that weight. I'm sure they have their own internal battles, but from the outside they just seemed to know: don't fight what you love. Let it be your anchor.
I'm still working that out. Here's what I keep coming back to: is my pull towards endurance pursuits and adventure self-serving or is it life-affirming? It's the thing that makes me more present, more patient, and more myself. For one weekend in Philadelphia, among people who just genuinely love their bikes, I got a little closer to the truth of it all.
