A Push From Behind

The forces which move the cosmos are no different from those which move the human soul. - Lama Anagarika Govinda in the Zen Calendar (May 25, 2006).

Day 133. Wow. When I read yesterday's blog, it sounded like a pulpit was standing between me and my keyboard as I wrote. That wasn't intentional, but I'm going to let it stand because I reframed it for myself as "passionate, not preachy."

I rode my single bike tonight for the second time this year. Steering, shifting gears, and braking for myself are a whole new bike ride. Not to mention remembering to put a foot down at stop lights - the bike doesn't balance itself when it's not rolling. I am writing a short blog because sitting upright is requiring more energy than I can sustain, and my keyboard won't reach to the floor, on which I will soon be supine.

The ride went well, though the EZ Riders - not known for their sense of delicacy - emitted loud protesting noises at the absence of the tandem (it is, after all, the best draft in town). I was more than ready to hang the tandem tidily on its hooks in the garage for a while. There is such a thing as too much togetherness. To recall the Foyer Lesson, there is also such a thing as allowance for transition. It will take a few more rides to regain my confidence as a single rider. We ride the hill route on Tuesdays, and the downhills were far less thrilling without a 220-pound captain evoking the laws of physics surrounding momentum. The climbs are much more challenging when they begin at 20 mph rather than 40. I would swear that they were each a quarter mile longer than when we rode them on the tandem last week.

As the only female on the route, I feel like I represented my gender respectably this evening. I don't have a Garmin on my bike to officially document the details, though I do have a regular computer which flashes a bunch of numbers that I never register. The absence of a Garmin is fine with me because it wouldn't have registered the most noteworthy event on the ride anyway. We ride a service road along I240 during the last six miles or so. There are a few inclines but no steep hills, so my teammates usually bust out a really fast pace in their hurry to get back to the parking lot (read between the lines: home to dinner and a beer).

I had managed to stay in the general vicinity of the group through the hills, and found myself on the wheel of Fast Mike, who has an irritating habit of accelerating when he pulls because he is just that strong. My legs, accompanied by a lagging spirit and sinking morale, grew heavy and recalcitrant. I pulled off, indicating that the riders behind me should pass while I sank to the back. Three EZ Riders whizzed past, and I heard Everett (the elder on the team with a riding pedigree known throughout the state) say from behind me, "Where do you think you're going?" I was just squeaking out, "I need a rest" when I felt a hand on my back and a gigantic push forward. "You're all right," Everett said with utmost authority, "Get back up there."

And I did. It was magic. That kind, powerful push worked a miracle. It was a panacea; an elixir to my legs and lungs and spirit. I pedaled back to my place on Mike's wheel and stayed there. We rode 20 mph, then 22, then 25. I hung on. He sped up on the inclines. I hung on. They sprinted at the usual spot on 66th Street. I hung on. Knowing that Everett was behind me, that he believed in me, that he knew I needed one quick reminder of my strength and stamina and was willing to deliver it, made the difference between being dropped and finishing the ride like a champ. When the light at Shields turned green, Everett and I bolted to the front of the pack and led them to the stop sign before our last turn south to home. I will never forget his hand on my back.

Everett was a Buddha tonight. Attentive, compassionate, mindful, present. He was the force that moved my soul. He reminded me that, literally and metaphorically, a kind push from behind is a compelling show of support. Tonight, I was the receiver of the push. Tomorrow, and the days after, I am watching for occasions to deliver it myself.

Gassho,
CycleBuddhaDoc