Never content, Goldilocks was ultimately mauled by bears.
While Voltaire could have taught Ms. ‘locks the same lesson with the sage line, Perfect is the enemy of good, no one seems to find it the least bit odd that an unaccompanied minor was galavanting about the woods before reaching her final destination into the home of a family of bears. Moreover, a furnished home where the bears dined on oatmeal.
Hopefully no cyclists have bore witness to the same fate in order to absorb this message. Regardless of the situation, however, cyclists just like poor permanently disfigured Goldilocks will find a reason to complain.
It’s too hot in Argentina.
It’s stifling in Australia!
The stage is boring.
That climb is way too long!
Brrr! It’s frigging snowing and I can’t ride. La bella vita my eye! This is la tundra vita.
This hotel’s WiFi is glacially slow.
I’ve watched all of the movies on my hard drive, boo hoo hoo!
If you’ve read anything on this website over the past month, you’ll notice that I’m picking on myself as much as anyone. But I’m far from the only one to complain. Like a whole bunch of prima donnas (or the Italian prime donne), we are quick to point out the flaws around us rather than absorbing what’s good.
And why do you suppose that is? Simply because everything is relative and we are accustomed to things being pretty darn nice. Why is the internet slow? Because we have fast WiFi at home. Don’t fret, Facebook will still be there when you get back to civilization. A bit chilly on your ride today? Sop up those tears my friend, and throw on an extra base layer and an iamnottedking neckgaiter and you’ll be perfectly fine next time around. Hotel food is boiled chicken and extra boiled pasta? Again?! Seriously, did you expect anything else. It’s a bike race. Deal. The hail was piercingly ferocious? Umm, okay well that one I can’t help you out on, Ted. That just sounds painful.
In reality the life of a cyclist ain’t all that bad. We have our gripes and bouts of bellyaching, we often complain about being hungry, tired, or bored, but that’s because we are accustomed to a relatively pampered living. When the biggest decision of the day is where to indulge on a mid-ride cappuccino, and your afternoon is capped off with an hour massage, I must admit that we have it pretty good.
…even if that means I couldn’t feel my toes for the final 90 minutes of my 5 hour training ride and in the shower afterwards tears of pain spewed down my face. Again, dry those tears friend. It’s not so bad.