velotel
05-20-2015, 03:32 AM
As in windows of opportunity and the closing thereof. When we’re young those windows are open so wide we don’t even know they’re there. I have no idea at what age I finally saw the window frame lurking in my peripheral vision. Wasn’t early. And even if it was earlier than I think, no doubt I just stuck my head further out so the frame disappeared from view. I mean who wants to see that we’re looking at the world through a window frame because if we see the window frame we’re pretty much forced into acknowledging it’s not a permanent condition; windows close.
Lately I’ve been seeing that window a lot. And I mean the window, not just the frame. As in the window’s closing. Which has been pushing me to do some things I hadn’t done yet. Like do a book I’d been contemplating for years. Like ride some cols I haven’t ridden, yet.
The problem is that word ‘yet’. ‘Yet’ means it’s on the schedule, for somewhere, sometime, just not now, later when there’s more time. Lots of time still for all those ‘yets’. Until there isn’t.
The cols toss another wrinkle into the window factor. They’re physical, the bigger the col, the bigger the effort needed. Those are the attention getters, standing head and shoulders above the rest, proud, demanding, illusive. Inevitably remote too. Just getting to the bottom of them takes time and sometimes even complicated logistics. Makes letting them slide into the ‘not yet’ category an easy call. Just park them out there on that list of things to do then kind of semi-forget them.
Until it’s too late, too late for a body that no longer has the force the big climbs demand. That’s the window I’ve been staring at lately. Turning 70 was what slapped me alongside the head. I realized my window of opportunity in terms of being fit enough to ride some cols I’ve been wanting to ride for years has become seriously small. Like I can almost sense the damn window slowly, inevitably closing.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not lamenting where I’m at in life. I’m still relatively fit, still riding well, still for the most part in good health. No complaints. No illusions either. Things can change, and change fast. I’ve seen acquaintances who were in fine fettle but no longer young and some small thing came along and suddenly apples were rolling all over the road and the cart was a mess. Like a friend who pulled off a classic rider error, came into an intersection too hot in the rain and instead of just going straight and slowing down and riding back to make the left turn he wanted, he braked, turned, hit the crosswalk paint, and down he went. Hard. Ended up with a cracked, but not broken, bone in his upper leg or hip, I’ve forgotten. Had to be immobilized for a number of weeks on a special bed. Then he got a blood clot. Then they discovered some problem with a tube connected to his heart. It was like some sort of slow-motion crashing of a house of cards, one thing after another. Freshly retired, money in the bank, life looking good with time to do all he’d wanted to do and bingo, the stage shifts.
Then there’s the time window. At age 70, realistically there aren’t all that many years left to go play on the high cols. Five, ten, maybe even fifteen with some monstrously good luck. More likely five to ten range. Not many in other words. The velocity with which they can slip through the fingers is astounding. The weather doesn’t help. The winter didn’t encourage nearly as much riding as I’ve done other winters. My form suffered. Spring arrived, sometimes, other times felt like we were slipping backwards towards winter, then all of a sudden it was summer, and just as quickly slipping back into early spring.
That’s how my form has been, spurts of fitness between doldrums of fatigue. And now June isn’t far off. In a month the days are going to start getting shorter. No way, impossible, not yet, I’m still searching for the fine form and summer’s just around the corner with all these cols I want, no, need to do, while I still can, while the window’s still open. Time isn’t slip sliding away, it’s friggin rocketing away! Every morning I wake up I can hear the window hinges squeaking. Have to find some oil for them. Nah, maybe not a good idea. If I can’t hear them letting them slip into that famous ‘not yet’ category of dust collecting good ideas would be way too easy.
Just have to get on with it, lay down some priorities, do some traveling this summer, remove some of those cols from the ‘not yet’ category. My list isn’t too long, which is good since the time isn’t either. Into the Dolomites a bit, and definitely the southern french Alps. A return to Switzerland would be good but highly doubtful for lots of reasons. The Pyrenees, never ridden there, I’d like to but they’re out there on the periphery of what I want to do before the window closes. A return to Colorado to ride Mt Evans with my son, a need-to.
Happily the need-to’s with my son have been minimized. Celebrated 68 by riding with him in Colorado and 70 by riding with him here. Bagged Ventoux with him, that was a good one. Mt Evans would be good too. Even better would be riding Italy with him. When I have to turn in my bike my biggest regrets will be the rides I didn’t do with him.
Crazy how fast it’s all going by. The other day during an evening ride all of a sudden I realized the year is 2015. Insane. I mean obviously I knew it was 2015, hard to not know that. What hit me was that the year 2000, you know the one, when the world was teetering on a major catastrophe because all the computers were going to crash, was like 15 years ago. That’s a lot of time because for me 2000 wasn’t very long ago at all. At least it seems like that. But here we are, 15 years deep into a new century already. That opening is looking really small. Time to get off my butt. Hopefully I haven’t left it until too late.
So, what’s my point here? Just a small reminder to all you younger folks on the forum here that you might want to pay some attention to doing all those things you dream of doing (like riding in the Alps) instead of setting them aside for another day, another year, even another decade. Those days, years, decades can slip by with astounding, even frightening speed. Not that you’ll listen to me of course; that’s what being young is all about, unlimited futures. But someday maybe you’ll find yourself standing on some high col looking out at magnificent display of life and suddenly realize, you really need to do this more often, while you still can.
One pic, shot by my son, Col de Joux Plane
Lately I’ve been seeing that window a lot. And I mean the window, not just the frame. As in the window’s closing. Which has been pushing me to do some things I hadn’t done yet. Like do a book I’d been contemplating for years. Like ride some cols I haven’t ridden, yet.
The problem is that word ‘yet’. ‘Yet’ means it’s on the schedule, for somewhere, sometime, just not now, later when there’s more time. Lots of time still for all those ‘yets’. Until there isn’t.
The cols toss another wrinkle into the window factor. They’re physical, the bigger the col, the bigger the effort needed. Those are the attention getters, standing head and shoulders above the rest, proud, demanding, illusive. Inevitably remote too. Just getting to the bottom of them takes time and sometimes even complicated logistics. Makes letting them slide into the ‘not yet’ category an easy call. Just park them out there on that list of things to do then kind of semi-forget them.
Until it’s too late, too late for a body that no longer has the force the big climbs demand. That’s the window I’ve been staring at lately. Turning 70 was what slapped me alongside the head. I realized my window of opportunity in terms of being fit enough to ride some cols I’ve been wanting to ride for years has become seriously small. Like I can almost sense the damn window slowly, inevitably closing.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not lamenting where I’m at in life. I’m still relatively fit, still riding well, still for the most part in good health. No complaints. No illusions either. Things can change, and change fast. I’ve seen acquaintances who were in fine fettle but no longer young and some small thing came along and suddenly apples were rolling all over the road and the cart was a mess. Like a friend who pulled off a classic rider error, came into an intersection too hot in the rain and instead of just going straight and slowing down and riding back to make the left turn he wanted, he braked, turned, hit the crosswalk paint, and down he went. Hard. Ended up with a cracked, but not broken, bone in his upper leg or hip, I’ve forgotten. Had to be immobilized for a number of weeks on a special bed. Then he got a blood clot. Then they discovered some problem with a tube connected to his heart. It was like some sort of slow-motion crashing of a house of cards, one thing after another. Freshly retired, money in the bank, life looking good with time to do all he’d wanted to do and bingo, the stage shifts.
Then there’s the time window. At age 70, realistically there aren’t all that many years left to go play on the high cols. Five, ten, maybe even fifteen with some monstrously good luck. More likely five to ten range. Not many in other words. The velocity with which they can slip through the fingers is astounding. The weather doesn’t help. The winter didn’t encourage nearly as much riding as I’ve done other winters. My form suffered. Spring arrived, sometimes, other times felt like we were slipping backwards towards winter, then all of a sudden it was summer, and just as quickly slipping back into early spring.
That’s how my form has been, spurts of fitness between doldrums of fatigue. And now June isn’t far off. In a month the days are going to start getting shorter. No way, impossible, not yet, I’m still searching for the fine form and summer’s just around the corner with all these cols I want, no, need to do, while I still can, while the window’s still open. Time isn’t slip sliding away, it’s friggin rocketing away! Every morning I wake up I can hear the window hinges squeaking. Have to find some oil for them. Nah, maybe not a good idea. If I can’t hear them letting them slip into that famous ‘not yet’ category of dust collecting good ideas would be way too easy.
Just have to get on with it, lay down some priorities, do some traveling this summer, remove some of those cols from the ‘not yet’ category. My list isn’t too long, which is good since the time isn’t either. Into the Dolomites a bit, and definitely the southern french Alps. A return to Switzerland would be good but highly doubtful for lots of reasons. The Pyrenees, never ridden there, I’d like to but they’re out there on the periphery of what I want to do before the window closes. A return to Colorado to ride Mt Evans with my son, a need-to.
Happily the need-to’s with my son have been minimized. Celebrated 68 by riding with him in Colorado and 70 by riding with him here. Bagged Ventoux with him, that was a good one. Mt Evans would be good too. Even better would be riding Italy with him. When I have to turn in my bike my biggest regrets will be the rides I didn’t do with him.
Crazy how fast it’s all going by. The other day during an evening ride all of a sudden I realized the year is 2015. Insane. I mean obviously I knew it was 2015, hard to not know that. What hit me was that the year 2000, you know the one, when the world was teetering on a major catastrophe because all the computers were going to crash, was like 15 years ago. That’s a lot of time because for me 2000 wasn’t very long ago at all. At least it seems like that. But here we are, 15 years deep into a new century already. That opening is looking really small. Time to get off my butt. Hopefully I haven’t left it until too late.
So, what’s my point here? Just a small reminder to all you younger folks on the forum here that you might want to pay some attention to doing all those things you dream of doing (like riding in the Alps) instead of setting them aside for another day, another year, even another decade. Those days, years, decades can slip by with astounding, even frightening speed. Not that you’ll listen to me of course; that’s what being young is all about, unlimited futures. But someday maybe you’ll find yourself standing on some high col looking out at magnificent display of life and suddenly realize, you really need to do this more often, while you still can.
One pic, shot by my son, Col de Joux Plane