written by Danny G.
There’s a moment every cyclist faces, whether they admit it or not. One day, you’re out there feeling like the god of the open road, the wind kissing your face, the tires humming like a song, and every pedal stroke feels like a purpose. Then, without warning, the magic sputters and dies.
It doesn’t happen all at once. No, it’s slower, crueler. It’s the way the rain feels colder than it used to, how the climbs seem steeper, and your saddle feels more like a medieval torture device than a throne. You find yourself glaring at your bike in the garage, like it owes you money and hasn’t paid up.
This isn’t a midlife crisis—it’s a cycling crisis. And if you’re here, you’re probably thinking, “What the hell happened to me?” Don’t worry, friend. The bike isn’t the problem. You’re just in a rough patch. Let’s dissect this mess and see if we can find the fire again.
1. The Bike’s Just Sitting There, Mocking You
It used to be your pride and joy. You’d clean it like it was a vintage sports car, adjusting every bolt until it gleamed like something from a catalog. Now, it’s gathering dust in the corner, its once-bright frame dull and lifeless, like a forgotten lover.
| The Good Old Days | The Sad Now |
|---|---|
| Chain so clean you could eat off it | Chain looks like it’s been dipped in tar |
| Tires pumped to perfection | Tires flatter than your enthusiasm |
What to Do About It: Take it slow. Start with the basics. Pump the tires, oil the chain, wipe off the dust. Don’t aim for perfection—just get the wheels spinning. You don’t need to conquer mountains today; a ride around the block is enough.
2. Club Rides Feel Like Work
Remember when you loved the camaraderie? The shared pain, the jokes, the post-ride beer? Now it feels like an unpaid internship—endless grinding with no reward. You’re getting dropped, cramping up, and worst of all, you feel like you’re letting everyone down.
| Before | Now |
|---|---|
| Dropped others with a grin | Dropped like a bad habit |
| The leader of the pack | The guy making everyone wait |
What to Do About It: Skip the group rides for now. Go solo. Rediscover the joy of not having to keep up with anyone but yourself. Ride when you want, where you want, and as slow as you damn well please.
3. Rain Used to Be Romantic, Now It’s Just Wet
A little rain used to feel like a challenge. You’d gear up, grit your teeth, and ride into the storm like a hero in a Hemingway novel. Now, you hear the forecast and think, “No thanks.”
What to Do About It: Here’s the secret: you don’t have to ride in the rain. Nobody’s grading you. Stay inside. Watch cycling videos, drink coffee, and wait for the sun. Or if you’re feeling brave, get some decent rain gear and see if you can make it fun again. Fenders too.
4. PRs Don’t Excite You Anymore
Chasing personal records used to be the best part of cycling. Every ride was a chance to go faster, climb higher, push harder. Now? Who cares if you’re 15 seconds slower on some random hill?
| Old You | Current You |
|---|---|
| Obsessed with Strava segments | Can’t even open the app |
| Lived for the leaderboard | Couldn’t care less anymore |
What to Do About It: Forget the numbers. Turn off the gadgets. Go for a ride without tracking a damn thing. Feel the road, the air, the simple joy of movement. Ride like you did when you were a kid—no metrics, no pressure, just freedom.
5. Long Rides Feel Like Punishment
A century ride used to be your idea of a perfect Saturday. Now it’s just a reminder of how tired and sore you’ll be on Sunday.
What to Do About It: Cut it short. Ride 10 miles instead of 100. Or better yet, ride to a coffee shop, have a pastry, and ride back. There’s no rule that says every ride has to be an epic adventure.
6. Lycra Feels Like a Costume
Once, you wore your kit with pride. Now, it feels like you’re playing dress-up, and you’d rather just throw on a T-shirt and shorts.
What to Do About It: Wear whatever the hell you want. Lycra, baggy shorts, pajamas—it doesn’t matter. The road doesn’t care what you’re wearing.
7. You Don’t Remember Why You Started
Cycling used to be your escape. Your therapy. Your way of finding peace in a noisy world. Now, it feels like another obligation, another box to check on your endless to-do list.
What to Do About It: Go back to basics. Ride a route you loved as a beginner. Find a new trail. Take a friend who doesn’t care about speed or distance. And if all else fails, take a break. Sometimes the best way to fall back in love with cycling is to miss it for a while.
Final Thoughts
The fire might be dim, but it’s not out. It’s just hiding under the ashes, waiting for a spark. Whether it’s a short ride, a new bike, or just some time away, you’ll find your way back. And when you do, it’ll be like reuniting with an old friend—effortless, joyful, and just a little bit magic.
So go on. Dust off the bike. Or don’t. Either way, the road will be there when you’re ready.
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