Essay: On the Coping Mechanism

Photo courtesy of Mike Maney Photography. Be sure to check out his work; he is a fellow cyclist in the Bucks County cycling community with multiple KOMs to his name.

(2020) Believe it or not, at creakybottombracket.com we have full-time jobs. As much as jobs are necessary, there is always that ‘dream job’ out there for the capture. Some are lucky enough to grab it; others continue to search for it. 

Without going into detail, there is a position I have wanted for a long time. I interviewed at the place before, but I barely crack what feels like the top five candidates. Something glaring always goes wrong and I sulk on my way back to the car post-interview. Recently not one but two positions opened at the place of my dreams. While people left the workplace for fears of the pandemic, this was the opportunity I was looking for.

And wouldn’t you know my luck? I had an inside reference forward the job listing. I received an immediate request for an interview two days henceforth. Schedules were rearranged, extra space was given for my moody focus, and I even tied the best Windsor knot of my life. I learned the position was essentially written toward my abilities. I nailed every question. There was no sulking to the car. I exhaled heavily knowing I delivered on what I could control.

In a few short hours I received an email stating another candidate had been offered the position and my journey abruptly ended there. I was stunned, embarrassed, confused, and a host of other feelings. I went to sleep on these frustrations. If that was my best effort, would I ever be good enough?

A recent article researching the usage of certain new-age medications left patients describing like their issues were stored in a box. The next morning I wound around Bucks County via bike, looking to dump my issues one mile at a time. It was here I would cope with the outcome from the day before. 

There is an elusive KOM nearby. It is a long sprint that has a downhill and an uphill. The start happens right after a tight turn so it’s a true measure of a sprint. As I approached the segment I decided to bottle up the frustration from the interview. The news was converted into a stored up box of rocket fuel with the understanding it would evaporate along the segment. The turn made, the pedals were smashed and the bike cantilevered. I didn’t bother to worry about the Live segment, I just wanted to rain frustration into the cranks. Any person doing yard work along the road at that time may have heard some of the rejection email grunted out as I passed. The segment completed, I wheezed my way back down to a normal heart rate and headed home.

There was satisfaction knowing the bike provided a coping mechanism for a giant let down. The job would have provided a new avenue for the next few years or, perhaps, decades. With the mindset that sulking should not stick around, a one-mile effort either spent the frustration fuel or left me so winded I could not focus on my stressor. Either way, I concurred I had done enough to cope; I had done all I could control.

I have heard of cyclists riding to their wedding. Some have questioned if riding on the same day as a funeral is acceptable. How many times have we heard someone state they were riding to clear the mind? Sometimes we forget the bike is there, ready to serve, like a trusty dog who will go for a walk any time of any day. This is our reminder the bike is a healthy outlet for anxiety, sadness, happiness, or even the antithesis of a cluttered mind. The bike is a wonderful mechanism indeed.