My long-distance cycling career of 13 years and 35,000 kilometres ended as I approached 75 in 2019. The realisation of this dawned on me slowly during my last ride in the US summer of that same year. Although I am now no longer strong enough to endure the long days and big climbs, day in and day out, I have my memories.
Long distance cycling brings pain, anxiety and exhaustion, but these pale into insignificance compared to the joy and satisfaction of climbing huge mountains or seeing spectacular sights for the first time. Real joy would come when I was alone, on my bicycle, in some remote and beautiful place. You could say that these same feelings could have been experienced in a car, but I know this not to be true. I had time to observe nature and life, all of which would have been bypassed in a car.
I enjoyed meeting and beating the daily schedule I had set for myself. I enjoyed the ever-changing vegetation, the people, kind, unkind and indifferent, whom I met along the way. No matter how hard or easy the ride was, I always enjoyed the achievement of arriving, followed by a hot shower and bed, when I could find a motel. On the other nights, I was happy to camp. Meeting a diversity of people with different perspectives on life was easy. The cycling devices allowed me to strike up conversations in pubs and cafes and I got to see and experience the very best in people.
The road ahead always loomed large, as did the mountains, the cold, the mosquitoes and the rain. The road behind is just memories, lack of pain and anxiety, some soon to be forgotten, others to be valued and boosted with the retelling.
Cycling taught me to like who I am. I am finally happy with and accepting of my introverted（内向的）personality. I have more persistence and courage than I ever imagined. These trips all required courage, courage which I never knew I possessed.
