Hi, I’m Steve, and I’m
an addict.
Hi, Steve.
I’m a bicycle addict.
How many have you, Steve?
Nine bikes.
That is quite a few.
I know people with lots more. With me, it started out innocent. Just a cheap mountain bike, no
big thrill, just a bit of fun on the weekends.
Recreational use only. It seemed
like everyone was doing it.
How was it back then?
How was it back then?
Casual. It didn’t affect family time or the job. Then
I ran into some other cyclists.
What happened?
They did it every
day. They were serious. It was a bigger thrill. I wanted to be part of the club. So, I bought into it. It was amazing. New bike. Made in
Italy. The performance was
astonishing. And I became one of them.
How did that feel, to be part of the club?
Well, it was cool and
weird at the same time. But still just for fun. These were my
new friends, and they became good friends, because of our shared obsession, but
I barely knew their names. Isn't that nuts? We were just
out hammering. Work and family never came up because we were always at redline. And as we stayed
out longer and went faster, the payoff got bigger. Man the endorphins! After a while it was all I could think
about. The next time.
It progressed from there?
I hung only with lifers after a while. I was all hardcore all of the time. There are rules only experienced people know. The highs were amazing.
It progressed from there?
I hung only with lifers after a while. I was all hardcore all of the time. There are rules only experienced people know. The highs were amazing.
How serious did it get?
Many of us were racing. We wanted to do the hardest of
the sick stuff. Climbs, crits, track,
time trials, cyclocross. Each kind of
race needed a different bike, different shoes, different gear. We tried different supplements, yoga, intervals, massage, stronger coffee, anything to go faster and harder.
So, you started buying…
Yeah and Italian steel wasn’t
good enough anymore. First, there was
aluminum, then titanium, two kinds:
3/2.5 and 6/4 and then the ultimate, carbon-fiber. Man, do you know how many different kinds of
carbon-fiber there are? It’s crazy. They
make everything out of the stuff, frames, saddles, spokes, rims, bars,
cranks. It makes me dizzy to think about
it. The lighter, the better, all for more speed. I had
to have it.
You are safe here – deep breaths.
I was totally hooked, totally
addicted. I couldn't see what was happening and I didn't care. I thought it was under control. I had goals like a sub hour 40K. But I quit a good paying job to
work at a bike shop. I sold stuff to buy
more bikes and bike gear. I ignored the
house work. It wasn’t just weekend
recreation any more. It was a way of life. I rode to
work even in terrible weather. Did intervals in the
evenings. Lunchtime rides instead of
lunch. Ate salads to lose weight. After hard rides I could only lay on the
couch. It was taking over. I was exhausted most of the time. I only eased off before a race. It’s called tapering.
Yes, we know.
I color-coordinated my
kit and bar tape. I followed all my bike heroes on twitter. I started my own
ironic bike blog. I moved the cars out
of the garage so I could have my own shop space. It makes me want to cry.
You can cry here if you need to.
It all came crashing
down this Spring. It had to end somehow. My hospital bills are pretty crazy.
It happens to everyone sooner or later.
I’m actually relieved. I’m still recovering. But I couldn’t keep going at the same pace.
It is going to take a long time. Be patient with yourself. We try to be the tortoise, not the hare.
We are here for you.
This is a lifetime project now.
I have a new job. It’s respectable and pays well.
Congratulations. That
is a big step. Our time is almost
over. Any last thoughts?
They are going to let
me park my commuter bike downstairs. And
there is a shower I can use. Cool
huh? Well, see you next time. And thanks.
2 comments:
LOL nice addiction! "Steve's Addiction" - a band?
Is that a very overcrowded washing machine in the corner?
Thanks, Kristin! I like the band name, too, but it reminds me of something I heard once... :) And, no, nothing in that room ever gets washed...
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