So Much More Than We Think

Like the moon, come out from behind the clouds! Shine. - The Buddha in the Zen Calendar (July 15, 2007).

Day 89. What an impeccable Spring day! Oklahoma has about 3-4 perfect days per season, and I'm certain today qualified as one for Spring. Low 80's in temperature, windy but none of those Mary-Poppins-ends-up-in-Canada gusts, low humidity, clear blue sky, and the mosquitoes haven't yet grown to the size where they may take off with children and small pets. Utterly beautiful.

Without a lot of conscious awareness, I try to balance the cycling and Buddha and Doc parts of me in the blog. They are intricately interwoven. Today the cyclist was front and center. It's the weekend, after all. My captain and I are preparing for another tandem rally in early June. The event takes place in eastern Tennessee, and word's out that the hills are monstrous. Needless to say, training for monster hills in Oklahoma can be a bit of a challenge. Fortunately, we live in far eastern Oklahoma county, where there are actually some decent elevation changes. I should know; the Garmin computer says so. According to the glamorous graph it provided after today's ride, our elevation changes totaled over 1,700 feet. That's a fair amount of climbing for a state where the wind comes sweeping down the plain.

Riding hills on a tandem is a plot straight out of a Dickens' novel: It is the best of times and the worst of times. Best because the combined weight of captain and stoker, with some help from the laws of physics, (especially momentum!) makes the downhills a screaming blur of speed and fun. Worst, because the same principles make the uphills a screaming blur of pain and heart hammering. I die a thousand deaths during hill training. My captain just pedals. He is a rock.

With the Tennessee rally looming in just over a month, we planned a 40-mile training route that included two of the most hilly east-west streets in the county. Short, steep climbs and long, moderate climbs, and (ugh!) a few lengthy AND steep climbs. Some brief but beautiful flats out toward Jones. Naturally, those miles passed way too quickly. The Monkeys weren't chattering much, perhaps due to an oxygen shortage. The air supply was definitely being channeled to my legs.

Even with rationed oxygen to my brain, I can get lodged up in my head while riding hills. The Beginner Cyclist in me thinks way too much. Despite experience recommending otherwise, I repeatedly look around my captain at what's ahead, no doubt to insure there is plenty of time to freak out over the upcoming climb. My heart rate soars with apprehension before the pavement begins to ascend. This is not conducive to strong climbing; I have no heartbeats to waste on psychological diversions. On the way home today, with a fairly strong headwind and 18 miles to go, I glanced up the road and was mortified to hear the words, "I don't want to do that" pop out of my mouth. My captain replied, "What do you want to do, walk around it?" It was a rhetorical question. He aimed us straight up the hill. Too bad cussing at your captain is a serious breech of tandem etiquette.

Somewhere during the second half of this hill-training-from-hell extravaganza, I found my Buddha Mind. I have no idea why calling to mind the fact that I have sat zazen for 88 days in a row suddenly infused me with strength, courage, and determination. Mostly, it yanked me out of my head. As I tapped into all the times I sat through discomfort, sadness, frustration, and pain while my timer measured out eternity, a feeling of irrational power flooded my body. Ride uphill with knotted quadriceps into a headwind while the sun beats down on my head? Cake, compared to sitting for interminable minutes chasing down Nothingness. We busted out the final hills like a team internationally ranked. Except we're not nearly as skinny.

I can hear my teacher's words: "Zazen will potently manifest in aspects of your life you never imagined." At the time, I wasn't cycling, so I wouldn't have dreamed that sitting zazen would help me robustly conquer hills on a tandem. But there it was: cushion time manifesting on the road from Jones. A reminder of the discrepancy between what my head says I can do, and what Reality shows I can do.

Don't trust your head. I'm convinced it is rarely an accurate gauge. Trust the Now. Trust the One. We are so much more than we think.

Gassho,
CycleBuddhaDoc