The Art of the Cycling Excuse
Table of Contents
“I’m tapering.”
Nobody questions it. you’re not tapering for anything, unless you count tapering off your motivation. But still, it’s accepted. Because we’ve all been there. we’ve all lied, invented, or genuinely believed some variation of: “I can’t ride today, because…”
This is a tribute to those excuses. Not the noble ones, like “family emergency” or “lightning strike to the derailleur,” but the creative, shameless, and beautifully irrational ones. The ones that let us pretend we’re still committed to the cycling life, even while binge-watching Netflix with a banana in one hand and our helmet still on (just in case).
Excuse 1: “I’m tapering” (classic,elegant,utterly meaningless)
You’ve been “tapering” for three weeks now. There is no race. There never was a race. You just like the way it sounds,strategic,like you’re peaking,even if the only thing peaking is your weekly pastry count.This excuse works because it carries an air of legitimacy. Only serious athletes taper. Thus, by saying it, you must be one. Who needs facts when you have vibes?
Excuse 2: “My cleats are haunted”
this one’s for the drama queens (me). Is your left foot clicking? Is your right knee sending you Morse code? It’s not mechanical. It’s paranormal. Clearly, your bike shoes are inhabited by the spirit of a 19th-century coach horse with unfinished business.
Bonus points if you burn sage over your saddle before your next ride.
Excuse 3: “the cat’s on my trainer”
It starts with a simple observation: “Oh look, Muffin’s napping on my Wahoo.” fast-forward four hours, and you’ve justified skipping your interval session because you didn’t want to “disturb her aura.” This is not laziness. This is respect for all living beings.
Also works with dogs, toddlers, houseplants, and onc, tragically, a Roomba.
Excuse 4: “I’m letting my bike rest”
We spend so much time training ourselves… but what about our bikes? What about their recovery needs? the emotional load they carry after every failed sprint? The trauma of potholes?
Sometimes, the most responsible thing you can do is put your bike in a dark room, whisper “you’re safe now,” and leave it alone for a week.
Excuse 5: “I think I felt a niggle”
What kind of niggle? Where? Doesn’t matter. It could be a muscle, a tendon, a soul fragment.