Tuesday, September 10, 2013

Satisfaction always comes later

At current time my son Flavio loves cycling more or less as much as I do. He never misses a chance to go out with me for a ride and, to wit, he really looks mentally and physically tolerant to the thoughness of pedalling and climbing with his own strengths. Most of the times a candy and bottle of water are enough to make all effort light up and regenerate the energy until home's gates are in front of us. Nevertheless, I don't want him to take this road as his principal sport activity. Cycling, either for professionals or amateurs, has become a world of hysteric people (starting from the young athletes' parents), self-neck-brakers, careless of their own safety, high-tech maniacs and ... yes, addicted.
Needless to say I don't like it at all. That's why I never joined a team and still, after several years, I prefer to go around by myself, at my own pace, or with Flavio at my side, at his own pace.
I have time to look around myself, understand where I am and where I go, I have time to think out loud, to decide my route on the fly, without programs and, if possible (ad worth), to take pics. Cycling means "discovery" to me, some kind of a learning and self-check phase. Satisfaction come from the big little things, after all, such as getting back home wet to the bones and covered with mud.

I've told several times to my son that the joy, the big satisfaction always come later, after the big effort, when it's time to look back at the road just made or staring the valley below before the excitation of the downhill speed fills our veins. Simple, isn't it?

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