Racing: Like jumping out of a moving car in your underwear.

Well, my bike will never see 55mph, but the comparison is apt.  Why bother?  I can almost understand it for the pros.  They do get paid (a little) after all.  But what about us dopes who go careening around the office parks of South Jersey at speeds of 35 mph?  All while closer to our competitors than we would ever get to the same guys in any other setting.

After my crash a couple of weeks ago, I had some time to think about all this.  I got rocked pretty hard on April 6th; easily the worst crash that I've ever had (though mine was better than some teammates).  After that, it took a little effort to get back into racing.  Not so much because I was afraid to crash, more because I was afraid to hit the same hip again!  Even one week later, I was pretty much 75% or so there, mentally.  Thing is, I don't know why.  I have very little competitive inclination.  I'm not the fastest bike rider in the world.  I'm not the smartest person in the world, but I do know I could really hurt myself doing this.  For all the time and effort, I may never win a race.  And that will be just fine.  But still... I love to race.  

Today I completed a survey the USA Cycling Federation had on its website.  Two or three questions asked, in a nutshell, why do you ride?  They had a few choices -- competition, commuting, fitness, environment, etc. -- and the perennial "other."  Fun?  What about fun?  

Turns out the primary reason that I ride is because I love it.  It really is that simple.  The biggest reason I race is because I love it.  I really enjoy bicycling, and always have, since I was a wee little momo.  I hope to ride till I die.  [Not to ride to my death, mind you...]  Some day the racing won't be worth the risk to my then-osteoporitic bones.  I'll still take the risk of riding on the road, just as fast as my old man legs will take me.