Good evening, everyone.

It’s Hernandito again, with a hankering to write but no topical content; you, my friend, are the victim of my lack of direction. Sure, I suppose I could write about the Henleyville RR and the Chico Criterium, but this is NorCal Cycling News…and those races happened quite some time ago. Instead, I’ll editorialize.

The road season is officially over, and I’m left with nothing to do but eat, drink, think, and blog. I’ve been doing far too much of the first two, and far too little of the others; however, with a bit of effort and a few beers in the tank, it’s time to get cerebral.

Allow me to pose a question: why do we race bikes?

I’ve been racing in this district for many years, yet I’ve never truly pondered the reason for my obsession. Countless times, I’ve dragged myself from my warm bed at 4:00am to partake of Bob Leibold’s tour of California’s ghost towns, evidenced by this photograph of my dashboard clock en route to the last road race I entered:

A simple explanation like, “we race because we’re competitive people” or, “we race because we love bikes” lacks substance and fails under scrutiny. A competitive spirit can find many outlets, like badminton or poker, and no amount of love for the bicycle merits a 4:44am solo drive to Whocaresville. There must be something more.

So what is the reason?

After a bit of reflection, I propose–perhaps contentiously–that the fundamental reason we race bikes is because we enjoy the company of the people around us. GASP!

While you collect your thoughts, or shake your head in disagreement, allow me to share a story from the not-so-distant past.

It was August 2nd, 2009. I found myself sitting idly in the midst of the men’s P/1/2 field at the start line of the Timpani Criterium on a beautiful, windy Sunday afternoon.

In spite of the pain we were about to endure at the merciless hands of one another, the mood was jovial; every face I saw was plastered with a silly grin, and the banter and general shit-talk was flowing like Niagara Falls. Riders from rival teams were exchanging stories about “the drinking competition at the Oakland GP afterparty,” friends were yelling inappropriate comments about high-school girls to each another, and the Chief Referee’s quiet voice could not project the pre-race instructions above the cacophony. One rider began to loudly and comically translate her instructions, inciting yet another round of gibes and increased asshattery. It’s almost as if we were all friends.

It was a bizarre moment of clarity for me, and not entirely welcome: I was enjoying the company of the very people I wanted to defeat. I hated these dorks, and wanted nothing more than to inflict suffering upon them…right?

I feel we sometimes lose contact with the real reason we’re out there, spending our lovely Sunday in an office park near Great America; it’s certainly not because of the surroundings. It’s also not for the combined $400 purse, or because we enjoy the pain of a bike race (not entirely, at least). Sure, we yell at each other, and we band together in “teams” and denigrate those we’ve excluded, but the reality is that we choose to spend our weekends with each other.

Can you honestly sit there at your computer, reading a blog written specifically about your fellow NorCal cyclists, and claim that you don’t enjoy each other’s company? Can you truly convince me, much less yourself, that you arise each Saturday morning for no other reason than to win a T-shirt and a $20 bill?

I doubt it.

So when the road racing commences next January, let’s keep yelling at one another, and let’s retain our competitive edge. But behind it all, let’s remember that we’re wasting our precious free time together, and enjoy the ride. We’re friends, after all.

That’s all I’ve got for now. Apologies for the overly emotional diatribe, and have a good evening!

P.S. Vote for Hernando and LorriLown!