Biking will get you through times of no money better than money will get you through times of no biking

When mountain biking surged in popularity in the late 1980s and early 1990s, the United States was in a recession for many of those years.

Here in New England, the mid-1980s economic boom faltered by 1988 and was well on the way down by 1989. Construction projects stopped, newly constructed buildings were never fully completed, and many quickly fell into disrepair. Real estate agents who had grown sleek and fat now wore fading clothes and drove the same Mercedes for several years in a row.

I observed at the time that the economic downturn, as tough as it was for people in search of income, was the best thing that could have happened for the environment.

The search for income led me to the job that I still hold today. The shop needed someone who could figure out new equipment as it appeared, but who also understood older bikes. The fact that I thought I could get by on a meager amount of funds didn't hurt my job security, either.

A committed bike commuter since I graduated from college, I used riding to get me through times of chronic income shortage, and to increase my profit margin when money might briefly flow in a little more briskly.

Recessions tend to kill off the weak. But even among people who still seemed to be living pretty well, economic stress seemed to nudge them toward toys that did not require fuel. Around the Wolfeboro area, a lot of young families seemed to be doing well enough to outfit the whole crew with bikes and to ride them enthusiastically. Because the Lakes Region lives on tourism and seasonal residents, we could see that the economy might be in a bit of a rough patch in general, but enough people were making enough money somewhere to want to spend it on both mountain bikes and trips to our area for vacation.

Once the economy revved up again for the rest of the 1990s, mountain biking had become enough of a habit that we saw lots of business until we more or less suddenly didn't. After the downturn in 2000, for reasons both economic and technological, the bike business turned into a tough way to make a living in just a few short years.

Young adults in urban environments seem to be discovering in large numbers what I discovered with few allies way back in 1979: your money goes farther when you pedal rather than drive. The owners of the economy want people spending every dime they have, while at the same time harshly criticizing the average citizen's lack of thrift and austerity. This dishonest double talk makes snappy sound bites and promotes a hardass attitude worthy of the rise of a thousand year reich, but it does little to improve the human condition overall.

The bicycle is a tool and a symbol of self reliance. If you're really a hardass, apply that hard ass to a bicycle seat. You learn very quickly about doing a lot with a little that way.

Taking steps to stay fit

As long as I have a job to go to, I will have to spend at least eight hours a day, at least five days a week, stuck in a building, responding to whatever customer or employer needs arise.

Working in a bike/ski shop, I do get to cut out onto the trails when snow conditions are good enough. This makes up for the loss of bike commuting and lets me try out equipment and techniques to stay current with the products. It also keeps my eyes bright and coat shiny, and my arteries relatively clear for the next bike commuting season.

When winter does not cooperate with either cross-country skiing or continued bike commuting, your dedicated riders will hit the trainer. Picture yourselves, my heroes, churning away, dripping sweat into the towel draped over the top tube, listening to music or watching a video or simply grinding through the tedium with only the whir of the machinery and the rasping of your labored breath.

When I used the Nordic Trak, I discovered that it was easiest for me to endure in a completely dark room, with or without music. Sensory deprivation was better than trying to distract myself with entertainment. Better yet, I've left the Nordic Trak in the crawl space for several winters now, because it's just so hellishly tedious.

Don't try to ride rollers in the dark. I need a fixed frame of reference to keep me from zinging off the side into the nearest piece of furniture. The Force fails me.

The other problem with indoor exercise is that you have to suit up -- or strip down -- for it and do just that for the designated length of time. You might say this is no different from going out skiing or taking a bike ride, but those are both fun and potentially practical, whereas indoor exercise is simply chopped out of your life in a sweaty, boring chunk. Note: if you pedal a generator to provide some of your domestic electrical power, or otherwise power some useful machinery with your exertions, you get to claim practical applications beyond mere fitness. But if you build that into your domestic energy budget, then you are a slave to that treadmill in any season.

Because I like to sit around drawing pictures, reading, writing and peeking into other people's lives on social media, I have to watch out for creeping sedentariness. A day goes by, and then another, more and more in a string until the the pile of coffee cups and beer bottles, and line after line in the training diary shows that weeks have slipped away.

Fortunately for me, my house has three levels. In a stairway winter, I take a convoluted path like a character in Family Circus going all around the neighborhood to travel ten yards.

When the cellist was here full-time, my work area was in the loft. It still is, but things have tended to collect on the main floor, where the wood stove and the kitchen are. It's really easy to remain down here under a cat.

The main wood stove is in the basement. That's another set of stairs I add to the route. It can be a real thigh burner by the end of the day. Hopefully it will be enough to give me some base line and offset my new baking skills.

That's apple crisp and sweet potato pie. I don't have pictures of the brownies, because they don't last long enough. A cup of fresh, home-roasted coffee and a nice warm brownie? I might never leave the house except to get more ingredients.

Fortunately, poverty leads to austerity. The last grocery run consisted of cat food and vegetables. I can't afford to get the medical conditions that accompany slothful consumption of sweets and fats. The uninsured and under-insured live like animals. And we die like them, too. If I get something as simple and treatable as appendicitis, my choices are bankruptcy or death. Any variable I can control, I will control.

I've also discovered that indoor temperatures in the mid and upper 50s are endurable if you dress like a mountaineer. A bit of vigorous scurrying around helps generate body heat. Temperatures like that discourage one from sweating on a stationary trainer, by the way. As if I needed more excuses.

Closer to spring I'll get on the rollers to reacquaint my butt with the saddle, unless conditions have opened up enough to resume the park and ride for a few weeks before launching the full road route.