Not Every Ride Is Yours to Take
What group rides taught me about structure, uncertainty, support and the courage to choose consciously.
I am not much of a speed junkie. I ride my Harley Fat Boy Special for the road, the landscape and the way a ride slows something down in me. Attention has to remain with the machine, the terrain and the next bend. That narrowness can be oddly centering.
Over the years, I have joined rides that were meticulously planned and others that seemed to regard a plan as an unnecessary constraint. The contrast taught me something about the relationship between the rider, the group and the journey.
Two kinds of ride
In a structured formation ride, people of different experience levels ride in staggered formation with defined roles. The captain briefs the group on the route, stops, safety protocols and hand signals. A sweep rider brings up the rear. The promise is simple: no rider is left behind.
A loosely organised ride feels very different. The plan may be minimal and the route may change. Everyone is expected to ride independently, adapt quickly and work things out if something goes wrong. It can be exhilarating. It can also be unsettling.
I have done both. On an open ride, I enjoy finding my own pace and taking in the terrain. I have also wondered what would happen if I lost the group or the bike failed. On difficult formation rides, the presence of another rider—sometimes simply the sweeper urging me onward—has made a material difference.
There is comfort in structure. There is resilience in community.
What kind of rider am I?
The structured ride mirrors something in me: I value clarity, defined responsibilities and a reasonable understanding of the road ahead. Within that frame, I am often more willing to take risks because I know support exists if it is needed.
But not every journey offers that certainty. Some roles, organisations and transitions require people to change pace, improvise and continue without familiar markers.
What I have come to question is the assumption that everyone should respond to uncertainty in the same way. Leaders have a responsibility to create enough clarity in the fog and to stay connected to those adapting to unfamiliar terrain. Team members have a responsibility too: if we choose a ride with fewer markers, we cannot expect all the comforts of formation.
When the leader disappears ahead
Change becomes harder when leaders demand adaptability that they do not demonstrate themselves. It resembles a ride captain accelerating out of sight while asking the group to trust the route.
People may still follow, but not with conviction. Leadership becomes credible when those setting the direction remain visible, responsive and part of the journey—not merely authors of the briefing.
People notice whether the ride captain is still riding with them.
Choosing the ride
Some rides teach discipline and the value of having one another’s back. Others teach self-reliance and adaptability. Both are legitimate. Neither suits every rider or every moment.
Awareness means recognising what kind of rider you are, what this particular journey demands and whether you are prepared to stretch for it. If the terrain calls for a pace or appetite for uncertainty that you cannot genuinely commit to, the more responsible choice may be to decline the ride.
For me, that is part of leadership too: not only coping with uncertainty, but knowing when to take the ride—and when not to.