Stopping

I'll admit it--I like Strava. I like looking at a map of where I just went. I get jazzed when one of those little trophies pops up, although the other day the air partially went out of my balloon when I realized that my "second best time" going south to north on Mill Street was just that--I almost beat my own personal best. I was 67th or somewhere near there when stacked up against other cyclists.

I figure I'm pretty safe right now with my free-level membership, and I obviously don't take it too seriously. But I have noticed I have to tell myself every so often that it's not a race. I don't need to aim for a target speed or calorie burn or longest ride.

Today I rode down to the Blackstone River Bike Path, and it's as wonderful as it always is. The rains have swollen the mighty river, and as I approached, the thought crossed my mind that someone has probably Strava'd their time on the path, and I pedaled harder thinking I might rate. 

It was silly and harmless, but I had to tell myself to stop and get off the bike. It's beautiful, and it's not 20 degrees like it was in March. 

It's okay to stop. Stop and take a drink. A look. A bite to eat. It's like golf and rally racing--you're only competing with yourself.