Sharing thoughts and experiences
How Cycling Became My Lifeline During COVID-19 and the Unexpected Lessons I Learned Along the Way
By on July 2024
Stop me if you’ve heard this one before: It's early 2020, and the world as we knew it has come to a grinding halt. My job sent me home with a promise to call us back once they figured out how to bring us in safely. In the meantime, they paid us our full salary, which was a small mercy amid the chaos. And like many others suddenly finding themselves with an abundance of time and a dearth of activities, I needed something to keep me sane. So, I took up cycling. Little did I know, this would become a journey of physical, mental, and emotional discovery.
When the pandemic first kicked off, I was thrust into a situation of unprecedented free time and uncertainty. The usual hustle and bustle of daily life was replaced with an eerie stillness. Initially, the idea of staying at home sounded like a dream come true—no commute, no early alarms, and endless hours to fill. However, the novelty quickly wore off, and the need for a productive and enjoyable outlet became apparent.
With the kids at daycare and my wife still working, I found myself alone at home for most of the day. The quiet was disconcerting at first, but it also presented an opportunity. I decided to give cycling a try. It seemed like the perfect way to get out of the house, enjoy some fresh air, and get a bit of exercise. However, there was a small hiccup: bike shops were wiped out, their inventories as bare as grocery store shelves in the early days of the pandemic. All the reasonably priced bikes were gone, leaving behind only the high-end models that were out of my budget. So, I dusted off my old hybrid bike, which had been collecting cobwebs in the garage.
The hybrid bike worked fine for short rides, but it became apparent that longer rides, especially those over 30 miles, were going to be a challenge. The bike was heavier and less efficient than the road bikes I saw other cyclists using. I often got frustrated seeing riders effortlessly glide past me on their sleek road bikes while I huffed and puffed on my hybrid. It felt like I was constantly working harder just to keep up, and the disparity was discouraging.
But I was determined not to let this hinder my newfound hobby. Instead of focusing on what I didn’t have, I decided to make the best of what I did. I set small, achievable goals and gradually increased the distance and intensity of my rides. Each ride became a personal challenge, a test of endurance and willpower. And despite the frustrations, I started to see progress, which motivated me to keep pushing forward.
As luck would have it, a few months into the pandemic, I got a break. My wife mentioned to her coworker that I had taken up cycling, and it turned out he had a high-quality road bike sitting unused in his garage. Without a second thought, he offered it to me. It felt like Christmas had come early. The bike was a beauty—lightweight, sleek, and much more suited for the long rides I aspired to undertake.
The first thing I did was to make the bike my own. The handlebar grips were a pristine white, but I wanted something with a bit more flair. I swapped them out for a bright orange set that added a splash of color and a touch of personality. It was a small change, but it made the bike feel like it was truly mine.
Cycling quickly became a cornerstone of my daily routine. Not only did it provide a much-needed break from the monotony of lockdown life, but it also brought about significant improvements in my physical wellbeing. The most I’d ever ridden before was around 20 miles, but with my new bike, I began setting increasingly ambitious goals. The furthest I eventually travelled was 75 miles in a single ride—a personal milestone I never would have imagined reaching.
The physical benefits were tangible. Over the course of several months, I lost about 12 pounds, and my overall fitness improved noticeably. More importantly, cycling gave me a sense of accomplishment. Setting goals and achieving them provided a boost to my self-esteem during a time when it was easy to feel aimless.
The one unexpected benefit of cycling was the opportunity it provided to indulge in another new hobby: listening to podcasts. With hours to spend on the road, I found myself exploring various podcasts that kept me entertained and informed. My top two favorites were “The Office Ladies” and “Fake Doctors, Real Friends with Zach and Donald.” Listening to these shows felt like catching up with old friends, and they became a staple of my rides.
Cycling also gave me ample time to get lost in my thoughts. With nothing but the open road ahead and the rhythmic cadence of my pedalling, I had hours to reflect on anything and everything. I thought about the death of my mom and the impact it had on me. I pondered race relations in the US, often triggered by the news and events of the day. My mind even wandered to alternate realities where I had pursued different paths in life, like becoming a professional golfer. These moments of introspection were both therapeutic and enlightening.
As I became more invested in cycling, I fully embraced the MAMIL (Middle-Aged Man in Lycra) lifestyle. Initially, the idea of wearing tight-fitting cycling kits felt a bit ridiculous, but I quickly realized their practicality. They were comfortable, aerodynamic, and made long rides much more enjoyable. Plus, there was something undeniably fun about dressing the part.
I went a step further and created a custom kit in a blue, orange, and white theme. It was bold and colorful, just like my handlebar grips. Wearing it made me feel like a part of the cycling community, even when I was riding solo.
Cycling wasn’t without its challenges. One of the scariest moments came when I took a nasty fall. My rear wheel hit a patch of gravel, causing the bike to slide out from underneath me. I ended up smacking my face on the pavement and scraping up my hands pretty badly. Fortunately, I didn’t break any bones or sustain any serious injuries, but the incident left me shaken.
Overcoming the fear of getting back on the bike was a significant hurdle. For a while, I hesitated before each ride, worried about falling again. But gradually, my confidence returned. I reminded myself of the joy and freedom cycling brought me, and that was enough to keep me going.
One of the most enjoyable aspects of cycling was the opportunity to explore new places. I discovered numerous small towns and hidden gems along my routes. Stopping in these towns to buy a cup of coffee or replenish my water and snacks became little adventures in themselves. Each stop was a chance to appreciate the charm and character of different locales, which I might never have visited otherwise.
Throughout all this, I was acutely aware of the stark contrast between my outdoor escapades and the grim reality of the pandemic. While I felt alive and invigorated riding through open landscapes, there were countless people fighting for their lives in hospitals around the world. This dual reality was never lost on me. It made me grateful for my health and the ability to enjoy these moments, even as I felt a pang of guilt knowing so many others were suffering.
I often rode by myself, and I couldn’t help but wonder if this was partly due to my introverted nature or a reluctance to seek out others to join me. While I valued the time alone and found comfort in it, there was also a practical aspect—many of my friends’ jobs didn’t allow them the time to ride as often or as long as I could. Solo rides became a meditative practice, a way to connect with my thoughts and find solace in the quiet.
Life, as it tends to do, has moved on since those early days of the pandemic. I now live in a different country, have a different job, and carry more parental responsibilities. These changes have made it challenging to find the same amount of time for cycling as I once did. I miss it—both the physical activity and the mental clarity it provided.
However, I remain hopeful that I can get back to riding more often. Cycling taught me the value of setting goals, pushing my limits, and finding joy in the journey. These are lessons I carry with me, regardless of how often I get on the bike. And who knows? Maybe one day soon, I’ll find myself back on the road, lost in thought and feeling the wind on my face, just as I did during those strange, transformative days of the pandemic.