Two Rules

I have few rules when I go for a ride save two rarely invoked rules:

1:  Ride until it is fun.

2:  Stop when it is no longer fun.

Rule #1 rarely comes into play. I love to ride. But even I have those days where my head is full of clouds and brooding voices and riding sounds like a crap idea, like pretty much everything; a bunch of stinking crap. On those days as I fight myself on every point, inching closer to a bike ride can sometimes be excruciating. “It’s windy, it might rain, I’m tired, I don’t have time, I don’t feel good, I have work to do, I need to write, paint, look for a job. I got shit on my mind…”

When I finally find myself straddling the bike and pushing off, the fun usually starts there. Childhood glee generally jumps up to play right then almost no matter what is going on. But some days, some days Glee stubs a toe and refuses to be consoled. Those days my mind is so loud that I forget to hear the birds, my nose misses budding flowers, and I am not grateful to be able to ride so free. Those are the days I have to ride until it is fun. I ride until my mind gets over itself, till my body drags my attention to the ride, till the birds sound better than the bitching in my head. Sometimes the bitch is loud, complaining about money and men and me. Those days she wants to put the bike away and wallow in misery alone. And so rule #1 was born.

It always becomes fun at some point at some level. Sooner or later the Bitch shuts up and attends to steady pedaling. Mindlessness follows as motion and freedom satiate my senses. My body feels strong, the air is brisk, not cold, birds chirp, flit and dive. Riding in traffic becomes a ballet moving to the rhythm of joy. Ah, this is so fast, so beautiful. So Fun.

From there, I smile and ride where the day leads. I can say that the bad Mojo blows into fast miles when the tide turns. Burning bad energy for fuel: I Love To Ride.

Now I can ride for miles and hours and days. Until I can’t. That brings me to Rule #2.

After the pleasure of the ride is achieved, there is little that can ruin it aside from a mechanical failure. Even that does not necessarily kill the day, it just slows things down, I can change a tire, ride with one foot, fix a chain. No, what can steal the fun from a ride is generally a physical failure: my body takes ill and I barf or my trick knee acts up and I can’t pedal, or I crash somehow and road rash is bleeding into my sock. And even then I might still just think I am a badass and can go on. So, if mechanical failure doesn’t suck out the pleasure, and physical failure makes me tough, the only thing left is riding conditions. Miserable cold, driving rain, snow, ice, or perhaps gale force headwinds. Still, that alone, if I am out usually just reminds me how mighty I am!

No, the only thing that takes me out once I am having fun is a combination of failures: a broken pedal in the rain with a cold setting in from crashing and sliding through a puddle of mud. Sucky. It just reminds me how crap things are and how long it’s been since I've had sex and this seat ain’t no substitute and I am cold and life sucks and I hate this stupid bike.

Time to stop and go home: once the bike is the enemy, it is time for a break, a shower, a meal or an attitude adjustment. Save your wrath for making art.

Ride Comment:

Early morning riding finds different people out. This morning at before 7 came across something special. I wish I had taken a photo. But I was too busy oogling the pink fenders and a long haul trucker cargo setup. It was a bicycle that extended the rear forks so that there is room over the rear wheel for a seat/cargo setup. The seat (two person seat?) was a skate deck with room on either side to rest your feet on. On the right foot platform sat a black and white border collie. He wagged his tail as I scoped them out on the way by. Nice!! Like with two thumbs up. I wish I had talked to her. What, I am shy?

It was like this bike, except instead of a pack on the side, there was the dog:

Lots of spandex clad fast cyclists everywhere. Surprisingly they have appeared to attract more occasional bikers to ride as well, the roads were pleasantly busy with cruisers and trailers and mtn bikes and kids as well as triathletes and roadies.

Ode to Roadkill: this one still lives as it meanders its way across the path. Hurry Up you Unisexual Freak, traffic awaits.