Sports films depicting grizzled coaches with stogies clenched between their teeth are a thing of the past. It’s a trope that doesn’t seem to apply to today’s fast-paced lifestyle, and I’m not entirely sure what’s replaced it. After all, smoking is banned in most public places, so it’s not even visually accurate anymore. Seeing as we rarely get rainy days in Southern California, this is where an idle mind will wander when it does, and it settles on caricatures like. For those who don’t remember, Goldmill was Rocky Balboa’s gravel-voiced trainer who had the leathery charm of a baseball glove left behind a Salvation Army dumpster.
That kind of character is honest, straightforward, and one-dimensional. Said character is there to support our hero and ensure success. One thing they stress constantly is pushing your comfort zone, and that’s the same kind of language that hackneyed social media gurus use.
Until recently, my social media feeds were dedicated to three narrow fields of interest: Cats, motorcycles, and people falling off scooters. Why Instagram felt the need to promote multilevel marketing hucksters is a question we’ll never answer. I’ve worked tirelessly to remedy this insult since.
It made me wonder: Why do we need to get out of our comfort zones? Thar be monsters outside this perfectly constructed safe space, with treacherous, even devious things to befall anyone who foolishly expands their horizons! (reading this paragraph in a pirate’s voice is optional)
As you’ll be reading this while we crest into a New Year, or perhaps you’ve recently done so, it is my editorial duty to inform you that the calendar is turning over once again. Thus, this changing of the whatever-free-physical-calendar-you’ve-acquired guard represents another 366 opportunities for you to do something new, different, and exciting. Perhaps you’ll get dark blue sheets instead of light blue sheets, you daring devil you. Most people call those New Year’s Resolutions, which seem to amount to wishful course correction for poor diet choices. And I’m not judging on that front because I’ll usually ask for seconds when it comes to baked goods.
I’m of the opinion that there is a more nuanced discussion to be had about our comfort zones. Not a long-winded one, mind you, or one that we’ll soak up our precious holiday hours with, but more just a handful of mildly related thoughts. Expanding horizons is good—whether with film, art, music, or motorcycling. The more the merrier, and if it amounts to anything, it’ll be a well-rounded individual even when it comes to things you might dislike. For example, some cultures enjoy spicing their cookies with cumin. To my delicate American palate, we’ll describe this as “not good.”
With respect to riding, your comfort zone could be quite far away from the person you’re parked next to at the stoplight. As every salty veteran has told you, it’s best to ride your own ride. If that seems mildly circular, it can be translated like this: Ride within your skill set and acknowledge. But progression can feel foreign, new, and decidedly uncomfortable at times, so it seems like we’re juggling two opposite ideas here—and we are. But, consider how there can be a balance between those two things.
Naturally, something new is going to be, well, new and unfamiliar. We can wax poetic about what it feels like to scrape a knee puck against the asphalt for the first time, use the throttle to steer with the rear, or clear a double; the examples go on and aren’t the major issue here. Until you do these things for yourself, it’s tough to wrap your head around it and actually understand it. We can prepare our minds with education, though I’d argue there is no replacement for doing or when theory becomes action. We’ve all seen the 7th grade Science Fair volcano work, but it’s a whole lot more satisfying when you’re the one mixing vinegar and baking soda together—fizz!
It seems with that last statement that I’m writing off educating oneself via tutorials, schools, or whatever form of rider training tickles your fancy. To the contrary, I’m merely highlighting one of its limitations: Theory can only go so far, and it eventually needs to be put into practice. It’s a New Year, and Ultimate Motorcycling and the collective industry covered a lot of ground in 2023. We trekked, tracked, toured, and did a few things in between. Above all, we did some old-fashioned learning.
No New Year’s-adjacent column is complete without positive affirmations or proclamations aimed at the next 366 days of the year, so your faithful scribe won’t let you down there, either. Here, here, to 2024!
