The Hardest Ride
Is Starting Again

April 24, 2026

This winter kind of dragged on.

Colder, longer, and messier than usual. Pennsylvania usually keeps you guessing with wild swings — 39 one day, 80 the next — but this winter didn’t swing so much as it just stayed punishingly cold. Brutal stretches, lingering snow, and almost no windows worth riding in. From November through March, I barely rode. Not even close to where I normally am milage-wise.

I’ve got an indoor bike. I used it here and there. But an indoor bike is just not the same. It’s dull, airless, and does nothing for your head. Not to mention, its too easy to be distracted. You can put in the miles and still feel like you went nowhere. I didn’t stay as consistent as I should’ve, and somewhere in those cold and grey months, my motivation slowly started slipping.

Then I left for Asia. And two days after I can back, it was straight to Atlanta on business. All in, I was off the bike for nearly a month. And that month did something to me that the winter hadn’t quite managed. It didn’t help that there was perfect riding weather back home the entire time. Clear, mild days while I was stuck in the Georgia World Congress Center. By the time I got back, my motivation wasn’t just low. It was basically gone.

At the time of writing this, I’ve only ridden four times this month. Four. I’ve done some indoor sessions too, but nothing steady. I set goals and don’t hit them. I talk myself out of rides I should just take. And when the weather actually cooperates and I still don’t go, there’s this unique mix of regret, guilt, anxiety, and FOMO that sits with me for the rest of the day. It’s a terrible feeling.

The excuses come easy. High 40s after rain? The trail will be torn up, the bike will get filthy, and I don’t have a great way to clean it. There’s some truth in that. But mostly it’s a cop out, and I know it. I see plenty of others on bikes just looking out my window and they are fine with it. It’s frustrating in a way that’s hard to explain. Not because I hate cycling, but because I love it. And, I know exactly what it feels like when things are clicking. Last year I was out almost every day. Right now I’m just trying to find that version of myself again.

Today was 72 degrees. My ideal riding weather. I could see clouds starting to build on the horizon and felt that familiar pull: go now or you won’t go at all. I skipped my morning indoor ride, which made lunch my only plausible window.

So it came down to go, or don’t.

I went.

Ten miles, slotted into a lunch break. Nothing special, just my typical maintenance ride. The second I started riding, all that hesitation just faded. Warm air, quiet trails, birds cutting through the trees, a few deer crossing the path. I had a brief standoff with some Canadian geese (hissing roadblocks with attitude) and came in just under 11 miles at 12.0 mph. Steady. Unremarkable. But exactly what I needed.

Because here’s the thing I keep forgetting when I’m stuck in that “should I even go?” loop: the ride is never the problem. It’s always the getting there.

Two back-to-back rides now. Not much. But it’s a start, or maybe more accurately, a restart.

Sometimes I think buying a new bike will fix it. I’ve been eyeing a Pinarello and a titanium build at least a year. But that’s not what’s broken. Consistency doesn’t come in a new frame. The truth is a lot less interesting than that.

The cure is to shut up and ride.

Motivation is a ghost. It shows up after you start, never before. I know I’ll get back to where I was. It may not feel like it yet, but I’ve been through this song and dance enough times to trust the process. The way out is always the same.

Just get back on the bike. Everything else follows.