Why I Ride

 

I.

 

To live fully.

To break away,

          freeing mind, body, spirit,

          escaping home routine     

for road routine (more visceral, sensuous).

To relieve stress, and heartache.

To be out in the open air.

To get in shape and lose weight,

gaining strength and definition,

striving to manifest my idealized self within.

 

To travel, think, sweat.

To strip life to essentials.

To live “near the bone,”

          drink “the tonic of wildness”;

          “From exertion come wisdom and purity” – Thoreau.

To feel myself breathing.  

To challenge myself, testing my limits.

To toughen myself, becoming more self-sufficient.

To quiet my mind.

To enjoy independence.

To miss loved ones.

To appreciate the simplicity of aloneness.

 

To saddle up, start pedaling, and settle into a cadence.

To feel the terrain, all the contours of the landscape.

To hear the wind I generate whoosh past my ears,

amid the chatter of components –

clicks of gears and derailleur,

rasps of chain,

whispers between tires and pavement.  

 

To commune with nature,

the enveloping biosphere,

seeing, hearing, and sensing,

perceiving beauty and connectedness:

          blue of sky, blue of water,

greens of forests, greens of fields,

red of earth, red of cliffs,

white of snow, clouds, and froth,

prisms of sunrise and sunset,

majestic silences of mountains,

arcane languages of rivers,

and our fellow inhabitants –

eagle, hawk, buzzard, woodpecker and owl,

deer, elk, antelope, bison and cow,

black bear and grizzly, coyote and fox,

armadillo and porcupine, otter and carp –

all of which, when encountered by bicycle,

are more piquant, like a cold drink,

earned and thus possessed.

 

To ride the perfect, tranquil, country road, away from signs, stores, and sprawl.

To conquer high mountain pass roads,

          engaging my whole body, muscles taut,

          arms pulling on handlebars,

          propelling myself forward.

To pass by corn fields and cotton fields,

          sequoias and saguaros,

          flood plains and sagebrush,

          live oak with Spanish moss.

To sing songs as they occur to me, by free association.

To listen to favorite songs through headphones

          (when alone, circumspectly).                

To smell the world, sweet and rank, as I traverse it –

loam and manure, wildfire and hearth,

mountain streams and salt water, road kill and exhaust.

 

To battle the elements –

heat and cold, rain and hail,

headwind and crosswind –

and to prevail.

To learn that I will prevail

if I don’t quit.

To learn that pain is fleeting.

To stay conscious of my mortality.

To cling to life

          as I do to my handlebars

          on a steep descent,

          or amid whizzing traffic.

To renew my faith in humanity.

To empathize with all things.

 

To appreciate simple pleasures –

          sunshine, shade, a fragrant breeze,

          cold drinks of water,

summer soaks in a chilling creeks.

To eat pancakes, every day I can get them.

To indulge in desserts, guiltlessly, in the evening.

To abstain from drinking, my usual taste for alcohol

slaked by exertion,

          supplanted by endorphins, and

          rendered moot by the pure joy of existence.

 

To stare at stars, flat on my back, away from smog and glare,

humbled and bemused – inventing constellations –

the Shark, the Snake, the Rooster, Lady Godiva on a horse –

feeling myself glued to a rotating orb.

To moon bathe.

To sleep outdoors.

To splurge for a motel room,

lie in pillowed bed, channel surf, and drift off,

close to home.

 

To be up with the sun.

To wake without an alarm.

To be a part of the morning,

          the softer light and cooler temperature,

          the stillness and the quiet,

          the primordial yawn.

 

To belong to the club of fellow bicycle travelers,

comparing notes,

trading anecdotes,

sharing the road.

To satisfy my wanderlust.

To see how other people live.

To read a lot.

To keep a journal.

To stay as young as I feel.

 

 

II.

 

Because I have the time (a teacher).

Because I have the freedom (childless).

Because it makes me happy (endorphins).

Because it makes me healthy (obvious).

 

Because it’s my thing, yo (following my bliss).

Because it’s hard (I like rigor).

Because normal life then feels easier.

 

Because I like travel (curiosity).

Because I’m frugal (it’s cheap).

Because without it, life’s too empty (“The Ghost in the Machine”).

 

Because I love the outdoors.

Because it makes me reflective.

Because it brings me closer to nature (perspective).

 

Because it breaks bad habits (sloth and gluttony, to name two).

Because it promotes virtues (self-reliance, temperance, fortitude).

 

Because it deepens and enriches me (broadening my experience).

Because it awakens me.

Because it adds meaning.

 

Because I’m a dreamer.

Because I get tan.

Because it’s a passion.

Because I need to.

Because I can.

 

 

-Charles Shuttleworth