
It’s funny, you know, the way life throws little curveballs at you when you least expect it. It wasn’t long ago that I used to walk a lot. Like a decent human being. Sure, it was slower than a creeping regret, but there was a rhythm to it, a grace, a lazy cadence that worked with the flow of the world. The whole thing had a certain charm—put on your shoes, hit the pavement, let your mind drift along with your feet.
But that was before I became a cyclist.
Yeah, you heard me right. A cyclist. The kind that straps on a helmet and slams through the streets like I’ve got somewhere to be—always. Fast. Furious. Maybe even a little reckless, but who cares?
It feels right. And now, now that I’ve got these two wheels between my legs, walking feels like a cruel joke. It’s like, what’s the point?
Why drag my feet through the world when I can just zip through it on a bike?
Hell, even the thought of walking to the store makes me feel like a fool. It used to be an everyday thing. Now? Walking a mile feels as exciting as watching paint dry.
So, let me break down how cycling has ruined walking for me.
1. Speed – Walking Is Just a Joke Now
It didn’t take long for my sense of time to start unraveling. I’m not talking about those slow, languid strolls through the park. Those still have their moments. I’m talking about actual movement—the kind you do when you’ve got somewhere to be.
I remember when I used to walk everywhere. It was a decent pace. Maybe a mile here, a mile there. A good way to stretch my legs, take in the world. But that was before I hopped on the bike. Now? Every time I walk somewhere, it feels like I’m dragging a dead body behind me. I’m not moving anymore. I’m stuck in a rut, like a clock that’s just a few minutes slow. Walking to the store now feels like a cruel exercise in patience. What’s the point? A bike could get me there in a fraction of the time.
If I’ve learned anything, it’s that time becomes distorted once you’ve felt the speed of a bike. A trip that once felt like nothing now feels like a cruel joke. Why would I want to walk when I can fly?
Walking Time (1 Mile) | Cycling Time (1 Mile) |
---|---|
20-25 minutes | 4-5 minutes |
It’s a slow burn. | It’s a rush. |
2. The Weight of My Feet
You know how walking used to feel normal? Like that gentle thud of your feet meeting the earth was a reminder that you’re alive? Yeah, I don’t feel that anymore.
My feet feel heavy now. Real heavy. And not in the “I’ve had a long day and my feet are tired” kind of way. No, I’m talking about a different kind of weight—the kind that’s been forced on me by this infernal need for speed.
Walking isn’t just slow. It’s awkward. It’s like I’m forcing my body to do something that feels unnatural. There’s a rhythm to cycling. Your legs move with purpose. But with walking? Every step feels like I’m dragging a ball and chain, one foot plodding after the other. It’s exhausting, mentally as much as physically. The only thing my brain can think is “Why am I doing this?”
I’d rather just hop on the bike, feel the wind whip through my hair, and zip away from this sluggish existence.
3. The Absurdity of Carrying Things by Hand
This is where it gets ugly. Before cycling took over my life, I used to carry things when I walked. You know, like normal people do. Groceries. A book. A bag of clothes. Now, every time I have to walk somewhere, I look at my hands like I’m being asked to sacrifice my firstborn. Carrying stuff on foot feels so primitive, so ridiculous. I’ve been spoiled by the godsend of bike baskets.
Cycling has ruined me for carrying things by hand. It’s like I’ve got this weird superiority complex now, as if I’m above the need for cumbersome bags. Get me a basket, some panniers, and I’m good to go. The bike is my chariot, and walking with anything in my hands feels like going back to the Stone Age.
Walking with Groceries | Cycling with Groceries |
---|---|
You’ve got to manage bags. | Just toss ‘em in the basket. |
Tired hands. | Hands free, baby. |
4. The Boringness of the Scenery
Cycling has ruined walking in another way—by opening up the world to me in a way that walking never could. When I’m on my bike, the world feels alive. The streets become mine to conquer.
I’m no longer a passive observer, idly taking in the scenery. No, I’m part of it. I’m in it. And it’s fast. My senses go into overdrive. I can see the city, the trees, the people, all flashing by at an exhilarating pace. I’m there. I’m not stuck.
When I walk? Man… It’s like being in a damn slow-motion movie. I’m trudging along, staring at the same damned trees, the same damned storefronts, every step dragging me further into the yawning abyss of boredom.
My eyes wander, but they never see anything new. Walking isn’t real anymore. It’s a half-hearted attempt at being present, but my brain’s already halfway across town on the bike.
5. The Mindless Nature of Walking
Let’s be real for a second. Walking is boring. Sure, you can get lost in thought, stare at the sky, or count your steps—but all of that is just filler, right? It’s like trying to make a sandwich without filling. What’s the point? Cycling has opened my mind. I’m not just moving; I’m thinking. I’m strategizing. I’m becoming part of the road, part of the rhythm of the city. When I’m walking, my mind’s a jumble of distractions, and every few minutes, I’m reminded of how much faster I could be.
Coping with Walking’s Boredom
I still try to walk sometimes, out of some strange sense of obligation. I tell myself it’s good for my health, it’ll keep me grounded, whatever. But every step feels like a reminder of the speed I’ve lost. It’s hard, but it’s a challenge I’ve come to accept.
I’ve learned to appreciate walking in small doses. Sometimes, when I’m in a new place—somewhere I don’t want to rush through, somewhere the bike can’t take me—I’ll walk, and it feels different. Not better, not worse, just different. Maybe that’s the key: accepting the difference, acknowledging that each mode of transport, each pace, has its own place.
But damn it, I’ll never forget the sweet rush of the wind in my face and the road beneath my tires.
The truth is, walking isn’t ruined. It’s just… slower. And sometimes, I need that slowness. Just not as much as I used to.
And that’s okay. We can always come back to it, even if it feels like we’ve outgrown it.
by Danny G.
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