"On day five of an eight-day, 500-mile mountain bike race in Africa, Piers Constable found himself sprawled in the dirt for the second time. First he'd crashed on his left side, then on his right, until he was, in his own words, "muddied and bloodied," staring at a bike that was very much broken. He remembered a feed station a couple miles away and realized he had two choices: quit or run. He picked up the bike and ran."
"When he reached the aid station staffed with medics and mechanics, he checked in alongside his bike. Twenty minutes later, both were patched up and rolling toward a 3,000-foot climb with 50 switchbacks called Cliffhanger. "Adrenaline had kicked in, I felt no pain from the crashes or the climb, I was just thrilled to still be in the race," Constable says."
"But joy is exactly what Constable, a 54-year-old banker, sought in that moment of curated collapse. People like him think for a living. Problems are solved with emails, spreadsheets, and meetings, not muscle. The body starts to feel unnecessary, just something that carries the brain around. The world is cushioned by soft-close everything: groceries that appear with a thumb tap, thermostats that warm and cool at the touch of a button, chairs that practically hug our backs."
Piers Constable crashed twice during a 500-mile, eight-day mountain bike race in Africa, found a broken bike, ran to an aid station, and was repaired to tackle a 3,000-foot climb. Adrenaline erased pain and produced exhilaration. Many high-achieving professionals seek similar intense physical hardship on vacation, spending money and PTO to pursue suffering rather than relaxation. Modern conveniences have insulated bodies, making physical discomfort rare and prompting anxiety about excessive comfort. Endurance events such as multiday races attract people aiming to reclaim bodily presence, test limits, and find joy through controlled collapse and exertion.
Read at Esquire
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