Ketil W Aanensen

End on end: It’s that suffocating summary season

I think I equally hate and love summaries. For those of us who are lonely, socially awkward, depressed and/or filled with anxiety, the holidays are known to be difficult. To me, New Year’s makes this much, much worse. I think it’s partially down to those year-end summaries, and the love/hate relationship I have with “round” numbers and sequences.

The calendar we are used to is pretty arbitrary. We use the Gregorian calendar, which was formulated in 1582, and mostly took over from the Julian calendar. There is an array of calendars in use in the world which usually is synchronized with the cycle of the sun or the moon. There is no universal truth to time telling, and quirky examples of this is that in our modern system, we call the 9th month of the year September, meaning “the seventh”, because we have kept some of the names from the Roman calendar predating the Julian calendar. Similarly, the events of 1917 commonly called “the October Revolution” in Russia happened in November in our modern calendars.

There is nothing that forces us to set the first date of the year on Jan 1st, our forefathers and -mothers just decided that it was just as good as any alternative. Similarly, our methods of measuring are just one in a wide array of alternatives. In the type of society I have lived all my life, these systems permeate everything. We count down the seconds till midnight, we celebrate anniversaries, and treat “round” numbers as magic, whether it’s distance, time, volume or what have you. I guess it’s a side effect of pattern thinking and a way of making sense of large amounts of information.

As a road cyclist, it becomes even more ridiculous: many of us measure every imaginable parameter of our riding. We do century rides (which ironically can mean both a 100 mile (160.9 km) ride or a 100 km (62.13 mile) ride, depending on whether you use the metric or the imperial system), we have monthly and yearly goals of just about everything: How many hours, distance and meters of elevation? Add a heart rate monitor and a power meter, and you can track hours of different power, cadence or heart rate.

Throw in the calendar, and you can have a huge number of measures for your cycling in a given time period. What do we end up with? A battalion of random numbers that in some way describe the portion of time spent on the bike. To add even more, you can throw around your Eddington number in either miles or kilometers. For 2021 mine was 64 in miles, meaning I have ridden 64 rides that are longer than 64 miles. It’s the holidays, so be sure to ride the festive 500: 500 km between 24th and 31st of December.

These days we also have tons of apps and services that make it easy to track our random stuff, so there’s no end to the kind of goals you can set.
So, as a recreational cyclist, what’s my prize?

Obsessing to reach some imaginary goal, while losing sight of what I cherish the most about cycling, those are my prizes.
As a person, I do feel that this compulsiveness comes pretty naturally. In the beginning, it seemed pretty benign. But somewhere, I took a wrong turn, because the numbers were starting to become a burden. My rational side is trying to convince me that there are no prizes to be won. Try telling that to my emotions.

My imaginary competitions include (and my impression is that many can relate):

-        I always do the extra distance to round out a ride. If I stop at 99 km there’s a reason for it.

-       I collect century rides.

-        I always finish at least one 100k outside every month of the year.

-        I try (and fail) to get below a certain weight (a round number, which is usually just out of reach)

-        I aim at passing a yearly round number of hours and kilometers on the bike

-        I aim at riding more than last year.

My goals used to be motivating factors. Reaching a goal is a job well done. But at some point I found myself counting achieving the goals, rather than the activity leading up to the numbers. Don’t get me wrong, I still love cycling, but I sometimes question the reasons for my love. It used to be about happily counting the days I ride, but sometimes I rather drag myself down, focusing on the days I haven’t been on the bike as if I have let someone down. I’m painfully aware of the fact that this year I rode shorter than last year. This is new to me.
To put this into context, in 2021 I’ve had a total of 261 days on the bike. And the 105 days off the bike includes being in hospital without front teeth, being in isolation with Covid, and so on. I also do have a full-time job and two kids. I have ridden my bike for 22.222,2 kilometers (speaking of random numbers) and 843 hours. I honestly haven’t been slacking off. (And I try to keep in mind that riding isn’t a chore.)
Still, when late December hits, if feels like I didn’t do enough. As was the case last year.

All of the incredible moments on the bike, alone or with company, are at this moment almost forgotten in comparison with the random numbers I didn’t achieve. My last 365 days look bleak compared to the greatest achievements of what I see others having done on social media. I know I’m irrational. I know that the flawless projections on social media aren’t true. I know it’s pointless to compare myself to others. I know that 2021 is a random timeframe. I know that there is a limit to how many times a person can improve their own achievements. I think the very idea of planning for continuous self-improvement is setting myself up to fail.

As I write this, I see that logic clear as day.

Regardless, I’m sure I’ll go into 2022 in the same way. I’ll consider it a “new beginning” (as if there’s ever anything else than a continuation), I’ll feel better and be tempted to set a goal. I’m going to be fulfilled when I see that I’m on track. And towards the end of that random time frame that is 2022, I’ll get increasingly more anxious that I might not meet my goals, as if that has some real effect on my life.

Addendum:

The theme and title title of this post was inspired by the great song “End on end” by the fantastic post-hardcore Rites Of Spring. Somehow, I was associating the lyrics about endings, cycles and beginnings with the difficult sides of this time of year. I attach the lyrics below and hope it resonates with something in me, like it does with me. And if you like rather noisy music, I suggest you check out Rites Of Spring and related bands.