The Local Trail

Not every bicycle ride needs a personal record. Sometimes the best part is stopping.

Somewhere along a quiet Vermont dirt road, there’s a beautiful view, a little fresh air, and absolutely no reason to check your average speed.

There was a time when riding a bicycle was a pretty simple affair. You climbed aboard, started pedaling, and went somewhere. Maybe you had a destination. Maybe you didn’t. Sometimes you rode fast. Sometimes you stopped because something caught your eye. And nobody asked what your average wattage was.

Today, technology can tell us practically everything about a ride: speed, distance, elevation, heart rate, cadence, power output, training load, and probably how many times we contemplated turning around on that last hill.

We can upload the whole adventure to Strava, compare ourselves to complete strangers, and discover that our perfectly enjoyable afternoon was, statistically speaking, a disappointment.

Congratulations. You’ve turned riding a bicycle into a quarterly performance review.

I’m Not Against Fitness. Quite the Opposite.

Cycling is one of the finest ways I know to stay healthy, challenge yourself, and enjoy the outdoors. There’s nothing wrong with chasing a personal record, training for a century ride, or trying to climb that miserable hill a little faster than last week. I do plenty of that myself.

And there’s nothing inherently wrong with tracking your progress. Technology can be motivating, informative, and genuinely useful. But here’s my question: Does every ride have to accomplish something measurable?

What if the accomplishment was simply having a wonderful afternoon?

The Lost Art of Stopping

Imagine you’re out riding a quiet Vermont dirt road on a beautiful autumn morning. The air is crisp. The leaves are spectacular. Somewhere in the distance, a woodpecker is hammering away at a tree.

Then you round a corner and see a view that practically demands you stop. But you’re making excellent time. Your average speed is up. You’re on pace for a personal best. Stopping now would ruin the numbers.

So you keep pedaling. And just like that, you’ve missed one of the best parts of the ride. All because of a number on a little screen.

Here’s a radical suggestion: Stop the bike.

Take the picture. Admire the view. Smell the fresh air. If someone is working in their yard and offers a friendly greeting, stop and have a conversation. You might learn something interesting about the road you’re traveling, the town you’re passing through, or the person who lives there.

If a kid has a lemonade stand, pull over and buy a cup. Heck, leave a generous tip. You might make that kid’s entire afternoon.

And if you spot a beautiful little stream running alongside the road, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with sitting beside it for ten minutes and doing precisely nothing. Not every minute needs to be productive.

Your Bicycle Is Not Your Boss

Somewhere along the way, we’ve developed a peculiar habit of turning our hobbies into obligations. We set goals. We measure progress. We analyze results. We compare performances. And before long, the very activity that was supposed to provide an escape starts looking suspiciously like another job.

Did I ride far enough? Was I fast enough? Did I burn enough calories? Did I beat last week’s time? Did anyone give me kudos?

Here’s another radical thought: Who cares?

You rode a bicycle. You moved your body. You went outside. You experienced a little piece of the world under your own power. That’s already a pretty remarkable thing.

The Privilege of Pedaling

There’s something else worth remembering, and it’s probably the most important part of this whole discussion: not everyone gets to do what we do.

There are people who would give just about anything to be healthy enough to climb aboard a bicycle and pedal down a country road. To feel the wind against their face. To climb a hill under their own power. To coast down the other side with that ridiculous grin we all remember from childhood.

It’s easy to take those simple pleasures for granted when we’re busy obsessing over numbers. But being physically capable of riding a bicycle isn’t some trivial everyday inconvenience we need to optimize. It’s a gift. And one worth appreciating.

A Challenge With No Finish Line

So here’s my challenge. On your next ride, give yourself permission to enjoy it. You don’t have to abandon your GPS, delete Strava, or throw your power meter into the nearest ditch. Just remember who’s in charge.

Ride hard when you feel like riding hard. Ride slowly when you feel like riding slowly. Take the scenic detour. Stop for the photograph. Talk to a stranger. Buy the lemonade. Sit beside the stream.

And when you get home, don’t immediately judge the experience by the numbers on your screen. Ask yourself something much simpler: Did I have fun?

Because twenty years from now, you probably won’t remember your average speed on some random Saturday in November. But you might remember the view from the top of that hill, the conversation with the old farmer, or the kid who sold you the best three-dollar lemonade you’ve ever tasted.

And those memories won’t appear on your Strava activity.

Enjoy the damn ride.

Your Turn

What’s the most memorable thing you’ve experienced on a ride that had absolutely nothing to do with speed, distance, or fitness? Share your story in the comments.

The Offbeat Corner is where we occasionally wander off the marked trail to explore the ideas, observations, and occasional absurdities that make outdoor life interesting.