Since parachuting into the Pacific Northwest after a Fourth of July celebration with family in Southern California, I’ve received an amazing gift: Hours spent alone with new thoughts, new surroundings and the familiar comfort of family and friends through iPhones, laptops and old-fashioned hand-written cards. In a place far away from loved ones, I’ve grown. As a person, husband and father. Of this, I’m certain. My wife and daughters know it, too. Sure, it’s cliché, but it’s never too late to stretch yourself, to test limits, face down the unknown and emerge stronger on the other side. Little things like fear, doubt or uncertainty typically reside only in the mind. If you ride a bike, you already know this. Still, we’re conditioned to react or anticipate throughout life, based on what we think may happen — or what has happened before. All your experiences, triumphs and, yes, even failures, are what help make you unique. The bike is but one way to express yourself, whether it’s through racing, going long (I’ve met many folks riding from Vancouver to San Diego), or commuting to and from work to help the planet.
The real challenge has always been to live in the present — to start where you are. It’s the only place that matters. Not where you’ve been. Not where you’re going or hope to go. No, right here, today. There’s no other way I can explain it. Get too far ahead of yourself, and you may worry endlessly about a desired outcome. Look back to analyze the past, and you may never find the answer you seek. Instant gratification doesn’t apply. What do I mean? An example, using the bike: While I once used to rush to get outside for a quick hour to race the sun or beat the early morning clock, I now can skip a day, or two or more, if timing or circumstance don’t synchronize. A cycling yin and yang allows this. You’ll be just fine, if you don’t do 10 repeats on that hill or one-legged intervals at 500 watts on the trainer. As the end of summer fast approaches, I ride wtih less fatigue and more alertness and awareness than I believe I ever did before. I swear to you on a forest of 100-foot-tall Douglas Fir trees in Seattle.
Am I writing this because I’ve been living like a cycling monk? Hard to say. Have you ever had moments that taught something so obvious and pure, you wondered why it hadn’t happened before? I bet it already has happened, and you simply couldn’t see it in the daily grind. That’s why riding is so unique. Riding a bike while living alone in a new place brings you so much closer to right now. You notice how the wind blows, the air smells (like a Christmas tree farm at times up here), and how the rough asphalt and storm drains test you. Each in-town ride is like a Top-40 hit, while the longer rides outside the city unfold like a full symphony. The North Cascades remind me of an amphitheater where the orchestra plays on and the music never seems to end. Forty miles of climbing presents views that stir you at your core. Mount Rainier provides an oh-my-goodness moment one will never forget. Seeing the mountain from the highest paved road at an elevation of 6,000+ feet is akin to peering into a vast ocean. Rainier is so visually dominant, well, you just have to see it up close. When I tell the story of that Rainier ride to non-cycling locals, they nod their heads and then tell me they haven’t been to Rainier in 20 or 30 years. This anecdotal bit of information alone should give you an indication about my thoughts on never getting too comfortable — taking things for granted.
Yesterday, as I pedaled the 45+ miles from the southern tip of Whidbey Island to the northern tip and the world-famous Deception Pass, I couldn’t help but try and imagine what awaited. As eager as I was to “get there” and “get on with the show” I concentrated on staying in the moment, clicking away the miles. Every pedal stroke brought the destination closer. Had I not experienced the headwinds and 90-degree heat, I may not have cherished Deception Pass as much. I do know this much: I wouldn’t have pedaled the 45+ miles from northern tip back to Clinton and the Mukilteo Ferry with the same gusto, had I not stayed in the present during a great day in the saddle.
Start where you are.
Everything else takes care of itself.
Liberty Bell from Washington Pass Overlook, Highway 20, North Cascades, WA
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Some days I’d rather go running. Some days I’d rather drink coffee while reading bike blogs and looking at cool pics like that above. But, when I do go out biking it’s THE BEST time of the week. I’ve been letting my old bones rest a bit more lately and if you swear on a forest of 100-foot-tall Douglas Fir trees in Seattle that it’s going to be okay, then I’m good with it. Peace.
Wow, 2 words: thank you!
In the past 4 years, I’ve been dealing with an health issue which doesn’t allow me to ride my bike as much as I use too. Can’t go for those long an epic rides anymore. So now, every time I head out, even if it’s for an hour long ride, I am thankful, appreciating every effort, every single push, every pedal stroke. Not thinking about anything else. Living in the moment, forgetting the past and not thinking about tomorrow.
Mari-jo (@marijolamarche)