O.K.L.A.H.O.M.A.

We know we belong to the land (yessir!)
And the land we belong to is grand (you bet!)
And when we say, "Yeow! Aye-yip-i-o-ee-a!"
We're only saying, "You're doing fine, Oklahoma,
Oklahoma - O.K.L.A.H.O.M.A. - Oklahoma - OK! -- Rodgers and Hammerstein from the Oklahoma State Song

Day 222. How is that for symmetry?! No wonder I had such a great day! For the first time in my cycling life, I rode back-to-back 100K's. That adds up to a whopping 124 miles in two days. I've done that mileage before, but it was distributed between a longer ride and a recovery ride. We averaged over 18 mph on both days on routes that were extremely hilly. It's a good thing I don't have an ego, because it would have been bursting through my skin.

Seven months ago, if someone told me I would be quoting the state song of Oklahoma on my blog, I would have assumed an official psychologist posture and diagnosed them as actively psychotic. Ah, impermanence. Things change. Even rigid, obsessive-compulsive neural pathways like mine. Zazen is powerful stuff indeed.

As my captain and I pedaled through the rolling hills east and north of Edmond on the Streak Ride this morning, I marveled at the loveliness of the landscape. Recent rains have renewed shades of deep green in the fields and pastures, and the homes - Oh, the homes! - that reigned from the midst of those meadows like royalty on holiday. WHAT do the inhabitants of those houses do for their day jobs?? I'm hoping they began as writers of daily blogs, but I have my doubts . . . .

Somewhere between the 30 and 40 mile mark, I found myself singing my state's song. Gassho to Rodgers and Hammerstein for gifting us with such a jaunty musical tribute. Drivers on those less traveled roads were patient and courteous, dogs were behind fences, nary a piece of trash blighted the landscape. It was cycling at its best. I chewed and swallowed many past negative comments about Oklahoma as I rode along. Practiced loving kindness for the place of my birth. I planted myself squarely in the here-and-now, forfeited habitual biases and criticisms, and kept my focus peering through the lens of Reality. Voila! Instead of red-neck pickup drivers tossing Bud cans out their windows and running cyclists off the road, I saw meticulously pedicured gardens, lush meadows, beautifully landscaped entrances to well-planned housing developments, and (gasp!) a mile or so of dedicated bike lane.

Rain poured down beginning around mile 50, deterring many riders from completing the full 100 kilometers. My captain and I pressed on, sodden and determined, finishing the course with a sprinkling of equally obsessive souls. Scarfing down pasta in the picnic shelter, we greeted several soaking friends from the Oklahoma cycling community. Not a peep was uttered about the soggy ending to the ride; we simply watched the deluge and exchanged our favorite rainy day riding stories. Good times.

Sloshing back to the car on the tandem, I wondered just how expansive this Compassion thing may turn out to be. The thought was accompanied by a faint tune that sounded awfully close to "aye-yip-i-o-ee-a!" That must have been my answer. Apparently, the compassion pool is bottomless.

Gassho,
CycleBuddhaDoc