Guy Boutin's Motorcycle Touring and Travel Pages

Adventures in Sport Touring with the Honda ST 1100, 1300 and the BMW 1200RT

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The Spirit of Long Riding
May 5, 2004

The zen of what riding means to me is hard to explain.  Long Riders are not even fully understood by all members of the motorcycling community.  Some view us as anti social loners, others do not understand why we take 3 days to get somewhere, that we could easily get to in one.  

As I have written elsewhere, I feel like I am at the peak of what motorcycling can be to an individual.  I have passed through the previous phases.   I arrived here rather quickly, but I had a head start, because of the nature of my personality, and my previous experience from marathon running, which has more in common with long distance touring then you might think.

In the 1980s I ran marathons and shorter races competitively.  For a guy with zero talent for the sport, I did pretty good, posting PRs of 3:05 for the marathon and 37:35 in the 10k.  I trained hard and long, it dominated my life.  Chris was not yet at the age he could play ball, so I had all the time I needed to devote to getting better.

Like the Iron Butt riders of today, I was in a world of time and distance.  All my training was geared to shaving time off the clock over a measured distance.   I was highly motivated.  Yes, I loved running, but also enjoyed the trophies and ribbons.  I was light, fast, and could crank out miles like a thoroughbred, when I toed the start line of any race from 3 Kilometers to the Marathon, I KNEW I was going to finish in the top 5-10% of the field.

I was running a half marathon (13.1 miles) in Fort Walton Beach, Florida and was in the number 5 spot, trying to catch the lead pack.  I saw a figure far ahead and chased him down, thinking I had just picked off one of the top 4, but when I pulled abreast I saw he was not a competitor, just a guy out for a run.  I acknowledged him and blew by.

At the finish line I was standing around eating an orange and drinking Gatorade.  I was unable to catch anyone in the lead pack, but did manage to hang on to 5th overall and number one in my age group.  I had just run a PR for the half and was glowing with good feelings.  Then I saw the man I passed finish his run, pick up something to drink, and move to his car.  The man was very fit, in his mid 40s, gaunt and hungry looking, just what you like to in a marathon runner.

I called out to a local runner, "hey who is that joker over yonder?"

"oh him? thats so and so, he runs this course every Saturday."

"how come he doesn't race?"

"are you kidding?  His marathon PR is 2:35 and has run Boston 5 times.  He could have won this race walking, but he no longer competes."

I wondered why a guy so good quit competing, so I went over to speak to him.  

"No I don't compete anymore, I run for the other things now".  I knew about some of those things.  I knew about the solitude, the good feelings of completing a run, and running just for the fun, and how it makes you feel.   "Man if I was as good as you, I'd be out here mopping the field up."  "I've been there son, and it was good, but I did not know real running to the last few years.  NOW I am a real runner, because I run with no agenda.  Competitive runners such as yourself sometimes drop out of running once all their goals have been met, or they burn out.  You can only run at such a high level for so long."

He was right. I remember days when the weather was perfect, or I would feel extra good, and I just wanted to go out for a leisurely run, but instead of a nice run in the country, I had to go the track to grind out intervals, because I had a important race coming up.  How nice it must be to run without having to worry about a Saturday race, but my zeal to improve would not allow that.

Next day, my family and I were pulling out of Ft. Walton for the trip back to Prattville, we were making our way past the high price beachside condos, when I saw that same man out running on the highway towards the beach.  He strides were fluid, and he glided over the roadway.  His was nothing like the run I would have later on, when I would try to run 6 easy miles on sore legs from a hard race the previous day.  Perhaps he knew something I didn't.

I have to say in most races I never enjoyed the race, the miles were painful.  Just as I suspect they are in the Iron Butt Rally.  Fatigued riders, beating back sleep, and using catheters so that don't have to stop for the rest room (are you kidding me?)  Criss- crossing the country on interstates, passing through landscape that can tell you little about.  They do it only for the feeling they will get when it is over, because the ride itself is not fun.  I understand the need to test oneself, and this is how they do it, but I wonder how many of them even get on their bikes after the race is over. 

Some will drop out of motorcycling when they have accomplished all of their goals, others will only ride a few times a year,  but a precious few will pass on to be Long Riders, and will relish the solitary ride to nowhere in particular, or know what it is like to take all day to ride 400 miles.

I paid a high price for my competitive running.  I trained and stressed my body so much by racing and the necessary training, that I can no longer run more than a few miles before tendonitis flares up in my lower legs.  I am pretty much confined to a couple of miles on the treadmill.  I will probably never be able to run 10 miles out in the country just because it feels good, or to go for a quiet run to be alone with my thoughts. I've lost that, and it makes me sad.  Maybe because I can no longer do it, is why I love long riding so much.

I suspect more than a few Iron Butt guys will suffer the same fate.  Perhaps they will damage their psyche so much, a time will come when they can't even tolerate looking at their bikes.  Every year a few of them crash mid rally, mostly because of the fatigue and the poor decisions that come with it, causing them to rethink their love of riding.  

I am in my prime right now, but what if I wasted these years racing across the country to get somewhere, and later on I am beset by arthritis, sciatica, or any number of ailments common in middle age, that prevent me from riding more than a few miles at a time?  How would it feel to know I never took the time to see Crater Lake, the Bixby Bridge or Niagara Falls?  

The Iron Butt Rally is like a marathon.  Every time you do it, you leave something behind.  I believe you can only go to that bank so many times.  Frequent withdrawals are paid for later.  The debt can be both physical and emotional, but it must be repaid.  I have no idea how many times a guy can dip into that account, for some it could be 10 Iron Butt Rallies, for others it could be 3 or less.

I would trade all my trophies and ribbons for the ability to run 10 leisurely miles everyday.  I have tried and tried over the last few years to get back to that level, but I can't even get halfway before I suffer some kind of injury.  I vowed never to let that happen with my riding.

If you ever find yourself on a tour, and anxious to get it over with, then rethink your approach.  Did you try to cover too many miles in the allotted time?  Did you over plan the trip by calculating every last gas stop?  Did you not factor in weather, traffic etc?  The key question to a successful tour is upon completion, did you want to keep going?  If you can answer yes, I wouldn't change anything, whether you're a Iron Butt guy or everyday tourer.

It has been my experience the ranks of the Long Rider are few.  What a joy it is when paths cross.  Long Riders are like Eagles, you won't find them in flocks, or in groups wearing colors.  Instead you see them alone on the road, confident, secure, and checking the territory.

I will be here to welcome all that find themselves at that milestone of riding.