Measuring Against Memory
For a long time, cycling was one of the ways I understood myself.
Not just fitness or racing, but identity. Capability. Mastery. The feeling that no matter what else was going on in life, I could still throw a leg over a bike and go figure things out somewhere out on the trail.
I don’t think I realized how much of myself had become tied to that until my hip started forcing the conversation.
At first it was easy to dismiss. A little stiffness. Recovery taking longer than it used to. Certain movements becoming harder to ignore. The kind of things you tell yourself are temporary because the alternative feels heavier somehow.
But eventually the body stops negotiating.
Three months before the Divide in 2022, I focused almost entirely on mobility. Riding was the easy part. Having a body capable of making it to the end was what mattered most.
I guess it worked because I finished in 27 days.
Definitely slower than I had planned, but we all think we understand ourselves until the body, aging, injury, loss, or life itself forces a different conversation.
When I came home, reality really started to settle in.
The hip arthroplasty changed me more than I expected. Not only physically, but psychologically. Coming back to cycling hasn’t really felt like a return to who I was before. It’s felt more like trying to understand who I am now in relation to all of it, and some days that’s been harder than the rehab itself.
There’s a particular kind of grief in realizing you may not always move through the world the way you once did. Especially when movement, endurance, and pushing limits became part of how you understood yourself for years.
I had built a reputation around grit and determination. I only ever quit one event, and after that I learned to push hard all the way to the end. Maybe too hard. Maybe that’s part of why I ended up needing new parts earlier than I expected.
What I didn’t expect was how quickly comparison would show up. Comparing myself to older versions of me. Comparing current rides to past rides. Measuring effort against memories instead of reality.
It’s a hard thing to reconcile because endurance culture quietly rewards that mindset. Keep pushing. Keep proving. Keep chasing the next version of yourself.
But there’s another side to all of this that I’m only starting to understand now. One that has less to do with proving something and more to do with paying attention.
