I love cycling. And yet, often, it just plain hurts. Whether it’s the physical pain of riding hard or the emotional stress of arranging one’s life around the Ride. There’s an undeniable, irrefutable connection between cycling and suffering. And yet we love it. Why is this? Why would we love anything that causes us to suffer?
Hopefully, this should clear it up:
(Diane Keaton waxing philosophical in Woody Allen’s “Love and Death”)