Having ample time to read is perhaps the one benefit to the
long, dark North Dakota winters. While I
rarely read cycling-themed books, this winter’s collection brought unexpected
reflections on randonneuring in the form of William B. Irvine’s, A Guide to the Good Life: The Ancient Art of
Stoic Joy.
Over four sections, 22 chapters, and 283 pages, Irvine
provides a convincing thesis for considering the adoption of Stoicism as a
philosophy for life. I found the book both
well-researched and well-written, with contemporary interpretations of this
ancient philosophy using thoughtful synopses of Stoic teachings coupled with
Irvine’s own personal experiences of adopting Stoicism. What I didn’t expect to find was how well
many of the Stoic psychological techniques seemed to align with what I think
are core attributes of many randonneurs.
Generally defined, Stoicism refers to a ‘philosophy of
personal ethics informed by a system of logic and objective perceptions of the
natural world’. According to its
teachings, the path to Stoic tranquility is found in accepting what we’ve been
given in life, by not allowing ourselves to be controlled by our desire for
pleasure or fear of pain, by using our minds to understand the world around us,
and by working together and treating others in a fair and just manner
(definition adapted from Wikipedia).
As implied in the description above, Stoicism has a
significant psychological component.
Successful adoption of the philosophy is strongly linked to techniques
for either preventing negative emotions or mitigating such emotions when
prevention falls short. Irvine’s book
emphases these techniques, thereby providing readers a pragmatic foundation for
putting the philosophy into practice.
While reading Irvine’s book, I identified seven Stoic
psychological techniques that, to varying degrees, I’ve either applied myself
or have observed others apply during brevets.
While these techniques do not compose all that make up the ‘Stoic
Psychological Toolbox’, they do represent a core collection of methods needed
for successful adoption of the philosophy.
1. Applying
the Trichotomy of Control: This is an exercise focusing the randonneur on
those things that are under his/her control.
Basically, there are things over which we have complete control, things
over which we have no control whatsoever, and things over which we have some
but not complete control. Here, the
randonneur focuses on the first and third scenarios, while dismissing the
second. To put this in practice, never
have I heard a fellow rider complain about the weather.
2. Being Fatalistic
about the Past and Present, but not the Future: Related to the issue of
control, there is no value in concerning oneself with the past or immediate
present. Only outcomes in the future are
potentially within the randonneur’s domain of influence. Accordingly, that is where the mental focus
should reside. In practice, randonneurs
seem uniquely capable of not dwelling on difficulties/mishaps encountered
earlier in a brevet (e.g., flat tires, crashes, misreading a cue sheet and
getting lost, etc.). Conversely, my
experience has been randonneurs are focused on the next control or – if nearing
completion – the end of the brevet.
3. Internalizing
Goals: Selecting goals whereby one has control over the outcome is a
hallmark attribute of randonneurs. The
non-competitive nature of randonneuring facilitates internal goal-setting, as
brevets have generous time limits that allow for collaborative riding. From my very first brevet, I’ve always been
impressed by those riders who set targets for arriving at controls within a certain
time limit and then stick to it, avoiding the urge to push the pace with a
faster group of riders.
4. Using
Humor, Abundantly: The use of humor serves to soften the gravity of
difficult situations, thereby mitigating – or even eliminating – anger and anxiety.
Making light of difficult situations
through humor has been an attribute of those I’ve ridden with during many
brevets. Moreover, a sort of thoughtful,
self-deprecating humor seems commonplace among randonneurs.
5. Committing
to Voluntary Discomfort: The term ‘voluntary discomfort’ could just as well
serve as a synonym for radonneuring, as unsupported, long-distance cycling will
eventually become uncomfortable, particularly when mileage exceeds 400 km. Welcoming this sort of discomfort is an
attribute of randonneurs. In fact, an
inability to deal with discomfort relegates the cyclist to shorter rides (though
there is nothing wrong with shorter rides…
…riding any distance is better than not riding at all!). Accepting discomfort through randonneuring
has its benefits, however. Doing so
hardens the rider against misfortunes that might befall her/him, thereby
providing confidence in handling discomforts/difficulties in the future. Accepting discomfort also helps the randonneur
appreciate how they feel when they are not in the middle of a long brevet. Said differently, how can we truly appreciate
comfort if we don’t periodically experience discomfort?
6. Dealing
with the Fear of Failure, Head-on: In a way, this attribute is the
psychological analog to voluntary discomfort.
Every brevet has challenges that could potentially keep the randonneur
from a successful ride. Recognizing that
things could potentially go wrong, but persisting with pressing forward anyway takes
courage. In an era where randonneurs are
sharing the road with increasingly distracted and drug-addled drivers, this
fear is real, with potentially disastrous consequences.
7. Not
Avoiding Challenging Circumstances: Though less of a technique and more of
an attribute, choosing to ride a bike over distances from 200 to 1200 km is the
equivalent of openly welcoming a challenging experience. This is randonneuring. Enough said.
I’ll close for now, but this post has me wondering if many
randonneurs are stealth Stoics, not knowingly engaging in Stoic practices, but
possessing a set inherent attributes that lend themselves to leading a Stoic-type life. I can see this being a point of
discussion with fellow riders during my next long brevet.
Why, then, do you
wonder that good men are shaken in order that they may grow strong? No tree becomes rooted and sturdy unless many
a wind assails it. For by its very
tossing it tightens its grip and plants its roots more securely; the fragile
trees are those that have grown in a sunny valley. It is, therefore, to the advantage even if
good men, to the end that they may be unafraid, to live constantly amidst
alarms and to bear with patience the happenings which are ills to him only who
ill supports them.
Seneca
(Rome 4BC-65AD)
