Crankology

Happiness is accepting the things you cannot change

Wisdom from a crazy year

Gather ’round, brethren and sistren. It feels like fourscore degrees below zero outside. If it isn’t dark out already, it will be in another five or six minutes. There’s an ice storm on the way. My snow shovel is in the shop again for repairs and my 50-kg bag of fleur de sel is empty, so I can’t keep my driveway clear. There won’t be any bike rides outdoors for the next little while. On top of that, Mrs. Cranky has co-opted my smart trainer for her own road to indoor cycling glory, so it seems I won’t be riding in the basement either.

So pour another glass of rum and eggnog, scooch in a little closer and listen as I share my accumulated wisdom from 2020. I’ve learned a lot this year about the importance of forbearance. It’s only right that I pass it along to my loyal readers.

First, I’ve learned that doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result is not, as is commonly thought, the definition of insanity. In fact, it’s basic human nature. Or at least it’s my basic human nature. This year, I experienced the same cycle of weight gain and loss that I’ve experienced every year of my adult life. It goes like this: I get lean, I feel great, I let things slide a bit, I move my belt buckle out a couple of holes, I feel not bad, I let things slide a bit more, and I wake up one day to discover that I’m actually fat. I feel depressed, I resolve to get lean, I fail three or four times to do so, and on the fifth try I’m successful. Pause for a few weeks, and then repeat.

In light of this unstoppable cycle, I’ve decided to give in to it. I will treat my expansion and contraction like the seasons. If I can achieve a three-pack of abs for a few days in midsummer every year, I’ll consider that a success. Perhaps I’ll even take a long weekend to celebrate it.

Second, I’ve learned that poltergeists are real and that they live inside bicycles. You can tell they’re there because they make noises: creaking, popping, maybe a squeak or an almost-imperceptible swear word muttered in Italian. Once you have one in your bike, it’s unlikely that you’ll ever get rid of it. You can replace all the parts one by one and the noise will still be there. Poltergeists are from the spirit world, which means they don’t obey the laws of physics.

Again, the solution here is to accept the situation. Embrace the noise. Choose to hear it as the sound of progress – every squeak and curse another revolution of the drivetrain, another few metres closer to your next victory, however humble that might be. If that doesn’t work for you, pop in your earbuds and crank up some Beethoven. You’ll either drown out the activities of the spook, or if you’re really lucky, you might send the offending spirit whiffling back to the netherworld.

Finally, and on a more serious note, I’ve learned to accept the new reality of life in a pandemic. Rather than railing against how awful things are thanks to covid-19, I’ve learned to accept that the world has changed. This doesn’t mean that I have to like it. Nor does it mean that I have to put on rose-coloured glasses (though I do in fact have a pair, with sequined frames, that are quite fetching).

So what does it mean? It means that I can choose how I react to life in its new, restricted form. Do I wish I could still host my annual gran fondo, Il Cranketto, at my mountainside retreat in the Dolomites? Of course I do. But I’ll settle for a virtual competition on the simulated roads of northern Italy on my giant TV. No, it’s not the same, and indeed you could accuse me of giving in. And you’d be right. But at least I won’t be doing the other thing one could do in this situation: giving up.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to ask my housekeeper to order another bag of fleur de sel.