There’s a certain magic that happens on the bike when everything clicks: my breath, my cadence, my rhythm. I’m not struggling. I’m not pushing. I’m just moving. Fluid. Focused. Free. That’s what athletes call “flow.” For me, it’s where presence meets power.
But getting to that place, especially off the bike, hasn’t always been easy.
Early in my cycling journey, Jim (my husband, riding partner, and coach) introduced me to the concept of “burning matches.” He told me, “You’ve only got so many matches to burn in a ride. Use them all early, and you’ve got nothing left for the hills, or the finish line.”
I didn’t understand it right away. But I felt it.
Especially the day Ace (name changed to protect the guilty), who fancied himself my coach, started a deep conversation right at the base of a steep climb. He asked a question that required a long answer, then sprinted up the hill while I huffed behind him, breathless and frustrated, trying to talk and ride at the same time.
Intentional? Maybe. Effective? Not even a little.
What I learned that day wasn’t just how to handle a hill; it was how to honor my energy. Next time, I’d pause, conserve, and say, “Hold that question.” Then ride my rhythm, find my power, and meet him at the top. With breath to spare and a smile on my face.
Cycling has taught me a lot about pacing.
There are days to sprint. Days to push. And days to roll easy. There are seasons for climbing, for coasting, and for sitting in the draft behind someone who’s a little stronger than you that day.
The same is true in life.
I’ve been in a season of deep transition lately. Healing. Rebalancing. Redefining. Since returning to work after an extended and much-needed break, I find myself reaching for the same tools I use on the bike:
Breathe deeply.
Burn fewer matches.
Find my rhythm.
Pace myself for the long ride.
Because burnout doesn’t just come from doing too much. It comes from doing too much, too fast, without rest or rhythm. And while I still love the thrill of the sprint, I’m learning that sometimes the strongest thing I can do is slow down. So I can go further, not just faster.
Whether you’re climbing a hill on two wheels or navigating a demanding season in your life, ask yourself:
Am I pushing too hard?
Am I conserving for the next hill?
Am I honoring my rhythm?
Am I burning through all my matches too soon?
Take a breath. Find your cadence. Pace yourself.
Because there’s a lot of road ahead. And it’s a beautiful ride when you don’t burn out before the view.
More life lessons from the bike
©2025 Lori Ann King
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