Enlightenment begins where the pavement ends. - The back of my partner's Bar Harbor T-Shirt
Day 32. That puts me into my second month of blogging even if I didn't start in February!
It seems a bit ego driven to feel like yesterday's blog was a cliff hanger when I am the author. In all honesty, however, I was very curious to see how today's mountain bike ride would go. Suffice it to say, I am a Bad Ass!!
We rode every inch of trail at Clear Bay. We took the long way around the long ways. I banked as high as possible on every turn (that's where the cool carving is, anyway) just to be sure I covered the absolute most ground. The computers said 19.5 miles, but my body ache-o-meter says more like 47.5. Mileage is such an arbitrary thing. We ride the road bikes 60 miles at a time and I hop off and go mow the lawn. Let me assure you, nothing is getting mowed today. I'm resting between blog sentences because my fingers are so stiff! Pushing the keyboard letters is almost more exertion than I can tolerate.
I rode with the Buddha today. No kidding - I was one pedaling Bodhisattva. For my readers (not that I have any) who are rusty on their Sanskrit, a Bodhisattva is an enlightened one who sticks around on earth to help liberate all sentient beings. As I tore through the forest, I kept thinking that covering ground on two wheels was nothing compared to sitting utterly still under a bodhi tree for seven days. Now that's bad ass.
I never dreamed that my cycling would be so impacted by my Zen meditation (though if it applies to Motorcycle Maintenance, why should I be surprised?) Every aspect of my time on the cushion seems to transfer in some way to my time in the saddle. I used to feel some panic when my heart rate reached impossibly soaring heights. Now I just envision my breath passing in and out through my mudra - really, really fast. Nothing to panic about -- breath finds its own way and, when not impeded by thought, does what it needs to do. My breath seemed to permeate my body more efficiently. It was as though more oxygen was pulsing through me, fueling my churning legs. When various body parts hurt, I sort of just watched the pain from afar. I guess all that time pretzeled up in the lotus position has its benefits. At least on the bike I'm moving, rather than sitting perfectly still while my lower extremities grow tingly, then numb. I've become so accustomed to resigning myself to holding still until the timer sounds, no matter how loudly my body protests, that I was able to just wait out the long ascents. The timer always sounds, eventually, so it was easier to trust that the climb would end - eventually. And it always did.
It intrigued me that all my thoughts during the ride came in the form of metaphor. For instance, there is a long section of trail that consists of extremely tight, twisty turns. Riding it requires timing, balance, and concentration. You have to pay attention, but not over-think it. You have to maintain speed to stay upright, but not go so fast that you crash into the trees hugging the trail. You have to coordinate handlebars, pedals, wheels, bike frame and body parts so they are not scraped raw, and do all that without bumping the teammate in front of you or holding up the one behind. Not that you can see the people you're riding with, which is where my metaphor comes in. There I was, on a difficult portion of trail, registering the immediacy of everything around me, and feeling utterly alone because the turns prevented seeing the person in front of me. I thought about how, when I'm attempting something treacherous and difficult, most of the time I don't want to be alone. But I can become so focused on the demanding task, it may not occur to me that help is actually close by. It's easy to get swallowed up by the challenge, the overwhelmed feelings, the tunnel vision required by the difficulty. So I forget that I am not alone, and deprive myself of the true and present possibility of assistance, or at least company. While riding that twisty section of trail today, I vowed to remember that I can ask for help when I'm treading precarious ground on my life's path. I don't want to get so consumed with feelings of fear and loneliness that I implode within. Especially when loving people are just around the next twist of the trail, ready and willing to lend a hand. Or a heart. Or a goo.
There were some other insights while riding today, but I've been in an upright position long enough. Thank you, Buddha, for sitting under that bodhi tree. And thank you, EZ riders, for accompanying me on the trail.
Gassho,
CycleBuddhaDoc
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