Same Song, Second Verse

Benny: "Hey, Ted, how would you like to blast up that?"
Ted: "I wouldn't even want to blast down that!" - EZ Riders on March 27, 2010

Day 54. A day in paradise, or another mountain bike ride? Oops - they are the same thing!

I have been robustly crediting my meditation with lifting my spirit, leveling my emotions, and brightening my soul. Who knew it would strengthen my body and straighten my spine?! My physical self seems to be thriving as well. I'd attribute it to Spring, but Spring in Oklahoma generally does nothing but clog my sinuses and make my head want to explode. Must be the sitting.

We rode like a banshee again today. Unprecedented since I had my first heat incident in 2007. One day I will blog about my near demise while road riding; suffice it to say for now that I have been impatiently working on a long comeback. Nietzsche said if it doesn't kill me, it makes me stronger. I had begun to think that if it didn't kill me, it might keep me off the bike for the rest of my life. Thankfully, patience (or grudging necessity), meditation, and numerous trips to an internal medicine specialist seem to be paying off. I am having glimpses of how I could ride three years ago. Thank the Buddha!

During the twenty minutes on my cushion last night, I could not quit thinking about yesterday's ride. I sat there grinning like a Buddha who has discovered mango flavored green tea. Poured over the day in my mind while breathing quietly and sitting up extra straight. I kept thinking about the junctures where Ted took a bypass and I powered forward over terrain that usually makes me tremble. I was not feeling competitive with or superior to Ted; on the contrary, I respect him immensely and recognized that he drops me like Toyota stock when we are on road bikes. Internally, we approach mountain biking so differently now. Ted is cautious and vigilant and ever mindful of the potential Big Crash. I strongly identify with that. I watch him disappear into his brain on the trails, and his meticulous mind perpetually opts for safety. I've never seen him crash. I've never heard him give jubilant shouts, either.

A word incessantly throbbed in my thoughts today: Passion! Meditation is bringing forth my passion. When I let go of attachments, a tremendous amount of fear disperses as well. When I am not attached to certain ride outcomes, or getting it right the first time, or not bleeding, or being freakishly strong, or the innumerable other preferences that consume my energy and blur my focus -- my world is an indomitable place in which to live. I may be using the word "passion" in an unconventional sense. I'm thinking of passion in the "Big Mind" sense. No limits, no qualifications, no inhibitions. Living passionately feels like I am developing the capacity to live life fully as it comes. It's not the same as naive optimism - I feel acutely aware of the painful aspects of being alive. There is simply room for it all. I feel kind of empty and open inside, which allows space for this sense of expansive possibility. It makes me feel passionate.

During the last five miles of the ride yesterday, we encountered this huge, steep hill. It angled straight up, and was strewn from top to bottom with loose rock, jutting ledges, and deep crevices. My partner and Ted exchanged the quote I used today, and we laughingly chose the less daunting bypass. As the skies clouded over and the wind howled, we rode out two more miles, turned around, and headed back. This terrain was much more tame than our earlier miles, so we flew over it at top speed. I'm sure the pace also reflected how revved up we were from the exciting day; everyone was riding extraordinarily well. Suddenly, I heard my partner exclaim, "Oh -- here it is!" and he disappeared from sight. Mainly because he had abruptly dropped over the edge of that killer hill. I was right on his wheel, flying along, still a Buddha on my bike. It did not occur to my Buddha self to stop -- I was too into the flow. In all honesty, I was also riding way to fast to react in time. I spilled over the edge, too. Immediately realized where we were. Slid way back, almost off my seat, tightened my core, and blasted down that hill like a lightening strike. Never touched the brakes. We were going so fast that the wheels could only plane over the rocks. It felt like I wasn't even touching the ground. I burst out laughing as a rush of adrenaline zapped me. The endorphins pulsated through my blood stream, making the colors in the woods and sky vibrant and alive. My partner was waiting at the bottom, grinning like we were Olympians on the podium. We bumped knuckles.

Turning, we looked toward the bypass trail and waited for Ted to emerge. Waited a couple of minutes. Looked questioningly at one another. Then my partner's eyes shifted to the steep hill. Ted was descending it. He wasn't laughing, or shouting, or looking at all pleased, but he was riding it all the same. As he pulled up beside us, we shouted surprised congratulations. Ted explained that he had seen as plummet over the edge, and he stopped at the top and peered down. Thought a lot. Considered the bypass. Back up, clipped in, and carefully, cautiously, spilled over the ledge. Bumped down the hill with both feet dragging, but made it to the bottom upright. We said it totally counted.

I think there are times in our lives when we are up to plunging over the edge, never touching our brakes. Today I learned from Ted that, at other times, we first need to scope things out, and take them at our own pace. Just do it the way we need to; allowing whatever works. Slowing down and checking it out first may help us try things we usually bypass. This way, we get to have a lot more first times. That's something to feel passionate about.

Gassho,
CycleBuddhaDoc