Scott Martin

The other day I’m having this intense conversation -- delving into issues like love and loss and cassette compatibility -- when I realize I’m talking with a stranger.

This is surprising since I’m not like those people who tell you about their divorce, their hemorrhoids and their shoplifting conviction 20 seconds after meeting you in the express checkout at Piggly Wiggly.

But we’re not at the store. We’re on our bikes. Big difference.

I’m cruising along the coast when he catches me. We exchange greetings and start trading pulls, working together against a headwind.

At first we don’t say much. But from his pace, his cadence and the way he sits on his bike, I know this: We’re a lot alike.

We both ride as much and as well as we can. We like being fit. We like being outdoors. We like the Zen rhythm of pedaling, the unspoken communication of a smooth drafting partnership, the flicked elbow that says please pull through, the pointed finger that says glass ahead.

We turn off the busy coast road onto a lane where we can ride side-by-side. We’re relaxed, happy, doing what we love. The conversation flows, gets deeper. Pretty soon I’m talking about stuff I haven’t told my mother. (Mom: Just kidding. I tell you everything.)

It’s like this with my other cycling buddies. I’ve never been to their homes. Some I wouldn’t recognize without a helmet and sunglasses. But we’ve told each other things you wouldn’t say to your therapist, unless you consider cycling therapy, which I do.

I feel the same about RBR readers. I want to say thanks for being my riding partners as I complete my first year of Spin.

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Wipe away that tear and tell Scott you love him too at scottmartin@roadbikerider.com

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