Heart

Perhaps it is synonymous with passion

Originally written in 2013, edited for POISON at some point, and re-edited in December 2024 because it didn’t flow as well as I wanted it to. During the period in question I truly was in love with cycling. That changed in 2019 to a love/hate relationship with riding and my bike. On the love days I felt all of the heart and passion described below while on the hate days I could easily have taken a hammer to the bike, and to that same heart. These days I am slowly finding my way back to pedaling and all of the sensations of riding. It will never be the same as it once was but it doesn’t have to be. As long as heart and passion remain the source — of power, of effort, of experience and seeking it — whichever means or activity is used, it will be satisfying, and teaching, and possibly transforming.

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We speak often about heart — or whatever internal drive it is that allows us to continue when legs or arms or lungs urge us to stop. Lately, I have been thinking about that heart. Living with it. I realize that heart does not beat only in the moment of difficulty. Instead it brings us to the point of difficulty in the first place. It makes us wake up early. Or stay up late. Heart nourishes when the jersey pockets are empty and the bottle runs dry. It guides. It inspires. It pushes and pulls until we can finally overcome ourselves.

Perhaps heart is synonymous with passion. I'd say it is with certainty if it weren't for the fact that so many only pay lip service to passion and diminish its meaning with their lack of commitment. As a word, passion has lost its meaning, used too often to market product or trick the unteachable into buying the secrets of those touted as successful or evolved. But neither heart nor passion are a product.

A few days ago I was riding my bike in Italy. After a good and fast ride from Mondragone to Roccamonfina we were pedaling "piano" back to the car. My companion, Guglielmo, said, "Mark, you are a strong rider."

The glass half-empty voice inside silently asked, "Compared to what?" But a more powerful voice spoke out loud, "I love it so much." And it is true, because if I didn't love it I'd stop pedaling when my legs feel like clubs and my feet cramp. If I didn't love riding — and hard effort — I wouldn't keep pedaling when the top of my head starts tingling and vision darkens around the edges. Without an unyielding love for the bike I wouldn't take to the mad Italian streets to fight my way across ancient cobblestones out of the city and into the countryside. I wouldn't break down and pack my bike for every journey. I wouldn't cold-call riders I've "met" online or follow my nose toward roads I've only seen on a map.

When I was climbing my motivation never came from love for the sport: doing it was necessity. I climbed because I had to. To be sure, the environment was beautiful and that was inspiring, but it also had teeth and they tempered the passion that drove me to the heights.

Now I am different. The bike is my tool. It too is different from the tools I used to express myself before. I don't ride because I need to but because I truly love doing it and I love how far I can go. Some days, like yesterday, I am shocked by the power that can come from such passion. When I feel this power in my narrow personal context I examine how we can translate it to a wider meaning.

I am involved in fitness, in coaching others, and in that context a common question is, "What's the best for X, Y or Z?" What ever the desired outcome, the conscious mind wants the easiest way, which should either be mocked as lazy or lauded for trying to be as efficient as possible. Still, a question is just that and the answer is not the process; knowing the destination is not the same as traveling to it.

These days if someone asks, "What's the best for ...?" I usually answer question with a question. I ask, "What — in this context — do you love doing? What do you love so much that you will make it important enough to do every day? To recover with intent on the days you don't do it? To pay attention to your behavior in the hours when you aren't doing it, and to change behavior to support eventual doing?" Honest replies usually define a solution for most people. You can reach the same conclusion by honestly examining your commitment to your chosen sport or activity, or to the execution of a stated desire to change. If you find commitment wanting, if you aren't willing to wake up early, to make the time to do the thing, then you're not in it with heart and the result will suffer because of it. You can keep going through the motions, and broadcasting your intent but until you fully commit it's a fucking waste of time ... unless, of course, you don't want to be transformed.

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In the world of all things hardcore the terms heart and passion and love seem a bit light and maybe too positive to be serious but today I watched the expression of these words distilled to concentrated guts and fortitude. In CAPS.

The 2013 road cycling world championship happened in Florence today. It rained from start to finish. Heavy, with thunderstorms, a fucking deluge at times. The course was described as the hardest in recent memory. It covered 275km and over 4000m of elevation gain. Weather made it worse. The winning time was 7hrs 25min. Who reading this has any idea what that means? I barely do.

It does not matter to me who finished 1st, 2nd or 3rd because to me the rider with the biggest heart — the most grit — was 4th. Vincenzo Nibali was a favorite but when he crossed a wet paint stripe on the road 30km from the finish he hit the deck, hard. The commentators said it was race over for him as he sat on the pavement for almost a minute. But he overcame the deficit to fight back to the peloton and then, when the moment was right he attacked from the 50-strong group to establish the winning move of the day. First he escaped with eight riders then whittled that to five with just 14km to go. Uran suffered a hideous high-speed wreck with 9km to go and that left Nibali overmatched by two Spaniards (Rodriguez who attacked and Valverde who sat on) and an opportunist Portuguese (Costa). None would work so Nibali had to chase alone but closed the gap on the final climb to four seconds and then brought them all back together on the final descent, some 4km from the line. With 7hrs 20min in their legs, the four played cat and mouse through to the final kilometer when Rodriguez and Costa sprinted away, with Costa taking the rainbow jersey on the line.

Most of the riders who crashed today abandoned the race. In fact, the majority who toed the line did not finish. I think we can learn a lot from Nibali's example: he suffered a setback, he overcame it, and not simply to finish but to aggressively fight for the highest honor. I'd like to imagine the same heart beats in my own chest. It used to. I demonstrated that in the mountains. Of course, many years have tempered its hammering but that doesn't affect commitment, which does not age. In fact, it took ALL of the years I've lived to teach me that heart — and passion — is the true source of power, while muscle is just the tool we use to express it.