The Solitary Cyclist

Today I rode north again. No surprise there. It was a decent day -- a tad cool to start (18 C), and windy and cloudy, but good riding weather. I rode about 40 km at a pretty steady speed.

Some days when I ride, I feel like I am the only cyclist in the world. Today was not one of those days. On my way up the first set of hills, I saw several cyclists coming down. Two of them, a man and woman, appeared to be together. The third, another woman, was quite a bit behind, so I couldn't tell if she was also part of the group, or if she was -- like me -- a solitary cyclist. 

Up on the hill, as I rode east I saw a guy riding west, another solitary. I saw him again when I was heading west and he was heading east. We exchanged smiles and waves, each content in our own little worlds.

And then when I came down the last hill, ready to head back into town, I saw a group of about 6 cyclists, crossing the highway and going west on the service road. I saw 3 or 4 of them doing the same thing yesterday, and they have me curious. Do they know something I don't know about going along that road? I need to check the map and see where it leads.

I have gone back and forth on the idea of trying a group ride. I enjoy riding alone, but until today I have never seen another woman riding alone, so I wonder if I am kind of weird. Well, I think I already know the answer to that, but I mean seriously weird. 

I also wonder if I'm missing something by not joining a group. I think I'd enjoy meeting others who love cycling; I think I'd appreciate the incentive to ride a little faster and a little harder; I think I'd benefit from the challenge. On the other hand, I really do cherish my time alone. My job teaching ESL is very people-intense: 5 hours a day, not just with people but in front of people, always alert, always prepared for something new, always listening and thinking and trying to figure out what my students need. I love my job; it's tremendous fun; I can't imagine doing anything else and loving it as much; but there is no doubt that it requires a lot of mental energy. 

So when I'm riding my bike, all alone on the hills above the city, I feel a sense of freedom and rejuvenation. Would I feel the same riding with a group? Or as a group newbie, would I feel tense, nervous, anxious? Would I feel pressure to keep up, to follow the rules, to perform? I guess I'll never know until I try, so I probably will try -- some day. For now, I'm content to emulate the title character from that old Sherlock Holmes story, "The Solitary Cyclist." Only I don't have a gun.