the tao of cycling: me, myself, and I

Monday, August 31, 2009

me, myself, and I

isn't it funny how we talk about ourselves as if we are sometimes 2 different people?
this morning I had to kick myself out the door to go ride . . .
and other times, we speak as if our body is separate, somehow, from our "self":
oh, my body causes me such frustration! I hate my body, my body hurts . . .
who are we, really? are we the entire thing, are we truly just the spirit that resides within the form? are we our minds and spirit combined, are we just our souls, or are we all of that all rolled into one at times quite disjointed human?
perhaps our task here is to learn to become everything: the body, mind, spirit, soul, ego that blend together and form a symphony, each bit of us truly in harmony with the rest.
if so, our language needs an overhaul.
because I most definitely had to kick-pull-drag myself out the door this morning to get on my bike.
me wanted to stay here.
all of me.
except, apparently, a little teeny nagging piece of my ego-brain-mind-soul that knew a ride was an important part of my life plan.

I believe that a great skill we can all develop is to learn to become an observer of our own lives. this, of course, splits us again, separating our functioning, participating self from the wise, seer part of us. but when one develops the ability to do this, a wealth of strength is discovered.
the wise, eternal, divine if you will part of us can offer validation and compassion, if we will allow it to share its input.
I used to sit in a meditative place to pull away from my humanness and try to just be the observer of my life. by now it has become such a habit that I can become that observer just by thinking about it.
the observer is always kind, always empathetic. always patient and loving. and always able to impart the belief that all is well, and all will only get better if we keep trudging---and hopefully learning to flow---along our path.
this ability to separate out the wise me is one of the greatest gifts I've discovered, for it's like having a peaceful, loving mentor in my back pocket, always ready to support the person I am.

and I'm still not really sure who it was who kicked me out the door this morning. I'm pretty sure it wasn't the same one who told me to make chocolate chip cookies yesterday.
I just know that they're both pretty determined to get their way, and they're both watched over by someone who loves them a whole lot.

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the Male Ego

The other day I was coming down a canyon in my drop bars (two years ago I would have said, 'what's a drop bar?'), working hard, when I came up on two guys who were also heading downhill but at a more leisurely pace. I passed them, said hello as I did so, and pulled back into the bike lane. a few minutes later they went flying past me, faces looking dead ahead, not a single bit of acknowledgment that I even existed on this planet let alone was involved in and enjoying the same sport they were.
I have to attribute this to the male ego. what else can it be? now I know we all have egos, myself included. and mine even shows its ridiculous little head once in a while, or perhaps more often. but the difference between mine and say, those of certain men on bicycles, is that I KNOW mine exists and I can LAUGH at mine. I know my ego was quite excited to pass those guys, and I could also smile because I knew if the men had really been working like I was, they would have kicked my butt down the hill.
I think I pissed them off.
and I'm sure I will be sharing with you much more of my thoughts about the male ego . . .

a little history

I was married, and I had a mountain bike which I rarely rode. we separated, I moved out, and four months later someone stole my bike. the next spring, 2005, I bought myself a new mountain bike. I rode occasionally, and in april 2006 I rode in my first century, the Cactus Hugger in St. George, Utah. I made it 54 miles on that mountain bike, and it took me about 6 hours. I think that included the rest stops where I prayed that someone would steal my bike again . . .
in june 2006 I started riding my mountain bike five mornings a week, a 45-55 minute loop that was intended to be all about exercise. and what I found was that I loved the quiet, peaceful morning full of bird chatter and barely breaking sunrises. by that fall I was hooked, and began considering the purchase of a road bike. I rode up emigration canyon for the first time that Labor Day of 2006, panting and plowing along on my trusty (heavy) bike, and a month later I was the proud owner of my own road bike: I had become a two-bike girl!
a 17-week-long "power camp" over the winter and a handful of new friends kept bicycling front and center in my life, and when spring of 2007 rolled around I was ready to hit the pavement. I rode my first century the end of april, when I again went to St. George and completed that Cactus Hugger. it took me about 7 hours, but this time I rode the entire 100 miles with about 9300 feet of vertical gain. woo hoo!
I started riding canyons around our area, emigration and millcreek, city creek, big cottonwood, little mountain and big mountain, and once--yes, only once--little cottonwood.
then in september of 2007, I rode from Logan, Utah, to Jackson, Wyoming, in the slightly infamous LOTOJA race. I rode, I did not race. and I completed the thing, crediting my good training buddies, the incredibly perfect weather, my support team, and an amazing convergence of all things positive in the universe.
I put in about 3500 miles last season, and as of today, july 19, 2008, I have about 1700 in, adding to it every day.
I have again signed on to ride the LOTOJA race, and my goal is to have just somewhere near as great a ride as I did last year. oh, and to have someone fun to talk with along the way as I got incredibly bored last year . . . star valley is still a nightmare scene in my biking memories . . .
and here is a picture of the machine that has helped me reclaim my life.