the tao of cycling: in motion

Wednesday, October 27, 2010

in motion

something mysterious happens when you're outdoors engaged in exercise.

it doesn't usually happen within the first five minutes, and not even within the first ten or so. it happens a little further into it, when you "hit your stride" or otherwise start clicking along, and you suddenly realize that you are engaged, engrossed, at one with the activity.

and then this mysterious process kicks in, this process that removes your concerns, your worries, your frustrations, your desire to control uncontrollable outcomes. it picks them off, one by one, and drops them along the way, lightening your very being.

it's possible that this mysterious process involves the shortage of oxygen available to fuel your thinking/worrying/complaining brain, but I like to think it's a bit deeper than that. I like to think that it's simply--and significantly--your true self that is allowed to come forward when you're removed from the cocoon of work/family/home/have-to's and you are focused only upon the very moment you are living. and I believe this happens easiest and best when you're exercising outdoors, in the real and natural world.

I was wogging today (I'm up to 1.5 miles without stopping: only 24.7 more and I'm ready for a marathon!) when I realized I was so caught up in the clear, cold air, the melting snow dripping from trees, the blue sky peeking through the cloud pillows, and the beauty of the snow-covered mountains in the distance that I couldn't even bring a worry to the forefront of my mind. a concern danced through but it couldn't take hold: my mind refused to let it. another tried, then another, and they all were forced to concede defeat because I was too engrossed in the physical activity in which I was engaged. there was not a speck of room for all that other superfluous crud that always tries to hold me hostage.

and this is why I love cycling, and what I'm learning to love about my almost-running. these both take me away from everything that tries to pin me down, stress me, convince me I am wrong or inferior or neglectful. those little negativities just can't cling to me when I'm in motion.

whether it's 5 mph cycling up a canyon, 40 mph flying down a hill, or 6 mph (my top speed!) jogging around the block, it's movement that repels concerns and grief. it's mental health work.

it's a good thing.

2 comments:

Loving the Bike said...: I totally agree...being outside in nature is just one of the many great things about cycling.

Nice post.

Darryl; October 28, 2010 at 9:08 AM
susan said...: thanks for reading and participating.... I can imagine that your weather is a little more cycling-friendly than ours these days. enjoy!!
and I'll try your breathing trick....; October 31, 2010 at 9:22 AM

Post a Comment

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.