THE ULTIMATE CONFESSION
Sometimes, I don’t want to ride. On rainy and cold days, of course I would rather sit in my comfy red lounge chair, drink coffee, and read a mag while watching my kids do puzzles and play Hungry Hungry Hippos. Also (less frequently, but still) on bright sunny days when I’m supposed to meet friends who have been planning a particular ride for days or weeks, I will sometimes give it a miss. On those days, I might play kung fu with my kids, watch rugby, or – weirdly – mow the grass. This doesn’t happen often, but it has happened enough that friends and colleagues coined a term for it: ‘Mazzan out’.
Is unwavering allegiance to the ride required to call oneself a rider? Must each violation be paid for with cyclist cred? It definitely feels that way when thumbing through the firehose of stoke pouring from my Insta feed. But I don’t feel much need for penitent reflection. I can chill today and ride tomorrow. Balance, right? It’s okay to embrace the joy of missing a ride. I see your #FOMO and raise you a little #JOMO.