Blooming Iris

How amazing it is to be alive! Anyone who loves and breathes and puts both feet on the ground, What possible reason could he have for envying the gods? - Paul Claudel in the Zen Calendar (I lost the date)

Day 81. Peak Experience! The sofa cushion at the Holiday Inn Express in Paris, Texas is the best zazen cushion ever! I am seriously thinking about taking up residence here . . .

During our 75-mile ride today, I burned through eight titles for my post. I decided to use the eighth one for the actual title. I'll describe the others as they came to me.

Jumping the Gap - The ride began with a police lead-out from the Paris Civic Center. What a sight: 80+ tandems parading through town at 9:30 on a glorious Saturday morning. A colorful array of jerseys represented many states and Canada. It was stormy and rainy last night, and continued to rain as we ate our standard 1,500 calorie breakfast! By the time we began, the sun shone brilliantly, the skies cleared to a pristine blue, and the air was crisp and clean from the rain. We hadn't exactly planned it this way, but somehow we ended up with the fast riders up front. By "fast" I mean two internationally ranked tandem teams and several other exceptional athletes. These are the men who shave their legs! These are the teams comprised of people with less than 5% body fat! These are the teams that me and my captain probably outweigh by 50 to 100 pounds.

We rode with this impressive group of seven other tandems for about 11 miles before they began to drop us. I was enthusiastically okay with getting dropped. Then a bizarre and mysterious experience unfurled. We were back by about a half mile, which is a hefty gap in cycling. We could see the group ahead of us as they crossed a highway while the helpful officers of Paris held traffic. We were shocked when the officers continued to hold up cross traffic as they saw us roaring toward the intersection. We flew across the highway, and it began to dawn on me that my captain was trying to jump the gap. Jump the gap?! Try to catch up with that group? Absurd! Obviously, my captain was not consulting his stoker about this decision, so with adrenaline screaming through my veins, I gave him my all. We hit 36 mph as we shot across the highway and began a gradual climb. Miracle of miracles, the gap was closing. Adrenaline cursed through me like a river in the Rockies mid-way through spring thaw. As we continued to gain ground, I felt incredulous at our momentum and overcome with a sense of sheer exhilaration. We caught them. We jumped that gap. Six of the seven teams, bellowing their appreciation, shared their own incredulous disbelief when we appeared. It was the finest moment of my short cycling history. The ranked team looked stunned. They remained silent.

The Elite Eight - Once we caught the group, we quickly realized they were riding a pace line. This is a system of riding in which two lines of cycles continuously rotate leaders so that no one team pulls for long, and everyone benefits from a draft. With strong crosswinds and headwinds, it enables the group to move incredibly fast. We were clocking along at about 30-32 mph. Once with the group, my captain and I were able to recover from the thundering heart rate required to catch them. As we took our place in the pace line of eight teams, I glanced around me and realized just what elite company we were in.

The Status of My Ego - I promised to write honestly in my blog, so to be forthright, I briefly lost control of my ego at this point in the ride. I then thought of this title to the blog, which assisted with quickly reining in my billowing Self. I have to admit that, initially, it took some pretty rigorous tugging on the reins. Whoaaaaaa there, Big Girl. So you rode your tandem fast. The galaxy as we know it will probably stay remarkably unchanged. It was helpful to feel the shoves of the egos from a couple of the bikes around us. Those teams were so tense. They were taking everything so seriously. I discovered a Truth right then and there: Joy and Lightness and Transcendence flow best in the absence of ego. Perhaps they flow ONLY in the absence of ego. I chucked mine to the side of the road and felt the joy illuminate my heart and radiate outward. Must have been that joy that kept my heart beating so strongly for the rest of the ride.

Age Before Beauty, Baby! - There was a couple in this elite group that is slightly older than me and my captain, with similar body fat percentages. We love them. We ride like them. Egos must weigh a heckuva lot, because when you ride without them, a massive amount of energy is freed up to pedal. And joke and laugh and smile at one another while offering mutual support. Perhaps wisdom does come with age. The pretty, tan, skinny teams were, admittedly, aesthetically pleasing, but caring so much about being the best seemed to be wearing them out. Their expressions and comments contained a lot of fretfulness and intensity. I wanted to shout, "Chuck the egos! Embrace the ride! You are among friends! We are One!" but I didn't say a word. Wisdom will find them in its own time.

Stand by Your Captain - We rode with the Fasties to a water stop at mile 30, followed by a 20-mile dash with blasting tailwinds. Like eight bullets shot from the same gun, we rocketed north in a pace line gone blurry with speed. Just prior to the stop at mile 50, my captain's back began to lock up. Bummer. I hate it when that happens. Especially when I still have legs. I saw the other seven teams pulling away yet again, and a brief fizzle of ego coughed up some disappointment. And, to be truthful, some anger. We joined the group at the stop, taking time to rest and drink and ply him with anti-inflammatory medication. I gave myself a stern compassion reminder (is that an oxymoron?) and consciously chose to be supportive and nurturing of my captain (after all, he steers the bike!) We headed out with the others, but were dropped within the first mile. Lunch was at mile 70. It was going to be a long twenty miles.

Slowest of the Fast - At this point in the ride, the Monkeys began to prattle. "I'm tired, I'm frustrated, I'm the only one pushing these cranks, the wind is blowing 25 mph and the gusts have to be at least 40, I'm hungry, we're all alone, we had their respect and now we're dropped, I sure wanted to finish with those fast teams, I thought this route was supposed to be flat, how much further to lunch . . . . " Somewhere out there on a lonely Texas country highway, however, I shut those Monkeys down. Came back to center, to the moment, to the breath behind my mudra. I registered the Here and Now so exquisitely that I could discriminate the slightest changes in the wind speed. I sensed the sun's minute by minute trajectory across the cloudless sky. I noticed subtle hues and shades of the blooming iris in fields we passed. Pedaled calmly, resiliently, at the cadence best suited to my captain's aching back. Quietly reminded myself that we were just behind the fast group, anyway. I was having the Ride of My Life.

It's a Rally, Not a Race - We pulled into the lunch stop less than five minutes behind the fast group. They were just unwrapping their sandwiches. A hearty welcome was extended, and the appreciative buzz continued about how we jumped the gap. Our table laughed and joked and complained gustily about the wind. We exchanged plans for showers and naps with the anticipation usually reserved for honeymoons abroad. Then eight bikes left together and leisurely rode five miles back to our starting point. We took pictures of each other at the Paris, Texas Eiffel Tower - the one with the big red cowboy hat on top. There were no podiums, no trophies, no placings. It was a rally, not a race. We were safe, injury-free, exhausted and united by an amazing ride where bonds were formed and memories emblazoned.

At the end of the day, you can see which title I chose for the blog. The iris weren't the only things in bloom today. I know for a fact that several souls blossomed, too.

Gassho,
CycleBuddhaDoc