Hurry home from work through the cough and chug of downtown traffic. Strip and dress again, rack the bike. “Riding again?” My neighbor has finally noticed my addiction. I sputter towards the foothills. Fifteen other cars that have had a little easier commute than me sit in the parking lot. Clip in and push the gears towards freedom.
It’s not like work or the commute will go away. They will be there tomorrow, but for the moment my heart pounds while my brain clears. I feel my humanness again. I’m taken by the view of other cyclists winding their way up the mountain. So many others chasing the same brief purity.
For a moment I feel the burn in my legs, but remind myself that when it’s all done I won’t remember the pain. I push a little harder, and take in the crunch of the sand under the tires, the yellow and purple beginning to burst from the blooms, and the fragrant chaparral. Two rabbits greet me as I pass; strange sight because they are usually bounding into the bushes. They must be feeling the moment too!
Emerging from the trail onto the saddle dotted with others like me, solitary or in little groups, I take my place over looking the city and wonder why we all have climbed so far only to look back.
“You okay?” the rider next to me startles me out of my meditation.
We get to go around once, or perhaps twice and more as some believe. Could be that we enter one end and exit another like a turnstile, emerging onto eternal landscapes. Whatever the case may be, what we do with one human cycle defines a life. Thoughts, experiences and interactions with the world push our wheel as we wax and wane in the ethereal. Righteousness builds our eternal light, becoming an infectious centrifugal, as one gathers into One.