canklecat

Nope. Some of the most driven cyclists I know are women. Mostly in their 30s-40s.

I don't think it's fear of aging or proving anything other than that we can come back from disabilities and physical challenges. Two of the 40something year old women I ride with had serious physical disabilities. They started cycling late in life and were determined to overcome those disabilities. One of 'em has crashed twice, including in a rookie cyclocross race, and broke her collarbone in a casual group ride. But darned if she doesn't keep bouncing back. If you met them you wouldn't have any idea of the physical challenges they've overcome, or that they are so motivated.

When I resumed cycling at age 57 in 2015, I'd been off the bike for more than 30 years. I used to bike commute, rode some centuries, raced a few crits and time trials. Then I drifted away from cycling in the 1980s.

And 16 years ago a car wreck left me with six busted up vertebrae -- five cracked in the lumbar, thoracic and cervical regions, and my C2 splintered into three pieces and permanently damaged. For years I walked on a cane and was in chronic pain. I only got off the cane around 2013 or so (judging from snapshots of me with the cane from a few years ago). I couldn't raise my head to look up at the sky, or look over my shoulder without pain, dizziness and nausea. At times my weight got up to 205 lbs, well over my 160 lb optimal weight, which only added to the back and joint stress.

By early 2015 I wondered whether I could ride a bike at all again. I got a comfort hybrid with suspension fork, heavily padded spring saddle, long wheelbase, big soft tires and got started again. Took almost a month before I could ride 3 miles without stopping every 400 yards wheezing from asthma. I walked the bike up hills. When I tried to ride up hills I was passed by people walking. Took a few months before I could ride 10-20 miles in a single day, with lots of rest breaks.

On the one year anniversary of resuming cycling, the end of August 2016, I rode my age plus a few, which turned out to be a metric century. That was a hilly route on a bike that weighs nearly 40 lbs, on a day with 100F heat index. Had to stop and rest for a couple of hours partway through but finished.

I treated myself to a new-to-me used bike, a somewhat lighter weight 1990s mountain bike that I hybridized for comfort. Rode 1,600 miles the next year on that, gradually pushing a little farther and faster. I started pedaling down hills rather than coasting.

By May this year I'd ridden my second bike 1,600 miles, on track to double my 2016 mileage. My monthly average speed per 10-50 mile long ride gradually increased from 9 mph to 14 mph. I started adding interval training once a week to my leisurely rides.

In June this year I got my first road bike in 40 years. I wasn't sure I could handle drop bars again. And it was just painful the first two or three weeks. Every ride I felt like quitting and selling the bike. I did more stretching and strengthening exercises. After six weeks I was enjoying the road bike and looking forward to rides. I set a goal to break my ceiling of averaging 16 mph on a challenging route with roller coaster hills and lots of wind across open prairie. I finally did that last night, just barely nudging past 16 mph. I had to stop at the peak of a hill climb to pop an ephedrine bronchodilator because my airway was constricting from effort (very common problem, including with some top level athletes, which is why so many pro cyclists have exemptions to use a limited choice of inhalers but *not* ephedrine -- the harder we breathe, especially in very hot or cold dry air, the more the airways clamp shut and develop a thick mucus layer). After 8 minutes I was ready to go. Back in 2015 I'd have needed 30 minutes to recover from an asthma attack. I set a few new personal records on some hill climbs.

It's not about defying age or trying to prove I'm not getting older. That's inevitable. I'll never be a contender in any sport in my age classification. Even if I was fit enough to ride crits now I'd either finish last or be pulled to avoid endangering other racers who were lapping me. I can climb local hills only at exactly half the speed of other guys my age and older. While I can still improve a bit, I have to be realistic.

If I'm motivated by anything it's to preserve a higher quality of life, not to merely prolong life.

I've been caregiver for three consecutive older family members (my background is in health care, so I was the best qualified in the family). I've watched the consequences of years of smoking, obesity, poor diet, deteriorated joints, congestive heart failure and COPD, and now, with my mom, the onset of dementia and consequent memory loss and cognitive disorders. Living to age 90, with the final 20 years of that being nearly bedridden or house-bound, doesn't appeal to me.

Evidence shows that exercise is essential. And more recent studies show that brief, hard exercise is more effective than lots of low effort exercise. So within reasonable limits and goals, we'll probably get more benefit from exercising briefly as hard as we can go two or three times a week, than we would from ambling through the air conditioned mall for an hour every day.

The problem is that hard exercise hurts. And two of my three older family members were allergic to pain. They didn't even like mild discomfort. So they got little or no benefit from joint replacement surgeries because they wouldn't cooperate with physical therapy. So their new knees either stiffened to permanent rigidity, or the ligaments and tendons atrophied and the knee joint would literally pop loose.

The pain of occasional interval training, with burning legs and lungs, is nothing compared to the years of pain from a busted up back and neck, the blinding headaches. As soon as I ease up or take a brief rest, the pain is gone. And it's usually replaced by that sense of euphoria so many active folks describe. That never happened with chronic, severe back and neck pain and headaches. There was never any reward or euphoria to compensate for the pain.

So I'm driven by my own body and what works for me. Yeah, I admire guys and gals my age who are faster than I am. It inspires and motivates me. I see how well they're doing. And I know we all have the same physical sensations, including the burning legs and lungs when we push harder.

But it's not a competitive thing. I'll never be that fast. And it doesn't matter. Because I can enjoy a leisurely casual ride just as much as a hard fast workout.

The goal isn't to ride farther or faster. The goal is to enjoy not only this moment but to do what's necessary to continue enjoying it for as long as the ride lasts. If I want to ride to a certain location and back in a single day I need to accomplish a certain level of conditioning in order to finish the journey without being exhausted and needing to phone for help.

For other folks competition is the thing. The YouTuber who goes by the handle SprinterDellaCasa (he uses a different moniker here on bike forums) just ticked over 50 years old and on his blog admits that he enjoys racing and that's what motivates him to ride at all. And that's fine too. I doubt I'll ever ride a crit again but I really enjoy his helmet cam videos of the crits he rides, because his caption narratives really put the viewer inside the race and the moment to moment thought process of a racer. I can relate because, as a former amateur boxer, I'd still be in the gym sparring if not for that cervical neck damage. No way I'm taking a chance on even a jab. Otherwise, heck, yeah, I'd still enjoy occasional sparring and working with young amateurs.

For some folks, enjoying smelling the roses is still a thing. It just happens at a faster pace with faster blooming roses.

And tonight, because we're having an unusually cool and dry summer night, I might venture out for a ride in the wee hours before dawn and another hot day. And even if I set out for a leisurely ride it'll probably turn into some hard charges up hills just to see if I can do it, because hills are my yellow Kryptonite -- they try to deceive me into thinking I can't breathe.