On Biking...

We didn't have bikes at camp.

We did, however, have horses and that was just the greatest thing ever since I loved horses. So, until my parents bought a horse for our family, I lived for that week - sometimes two - when I could ride at the Camp Hitaga Stable.

When I returned home from camp I always had (yes, I really mean this) this feeling that my heart was larger, more loving somehow. I appreciated my parents, didn't get as annoyed by my sisters and had this greeny (akin to rosy) sense that all was right with the world. Hence, all aglow with campness, I returned to riding my bike all over Cedar Rapids, Iowa. I have always been a bike-gal.

I don't remember my first bike, but I have vivid memories of Dad teaching me how to ride without the training wheels. Over and over again he'd steady me on my tiny bicycle at the top of the driveway. To my five-year old eyes and perspective, the hill was imposingly huge! Dad would encourage me gently and then ever-so-slightly give a push that sent me down the hill. Time and time again, I'd balance just fine picking up speed - until - I panicked at the end of the driveway and promptly fell over. Dad would come and help me up, look at my scraped knees - if I was too bloody, he'd trundle me inside to Mom who hugged me, kissed the boo-boo, Bactined it *ouch* and bandaged me up and off I went again to repeat the process with Pete.

Obviously, I figured out how to stop falling and then, I was free! I was hooked on biking, exhilarated by the wind rushing through my hair - we didn't have helmets then - and the sense that I could go just about anywhere. Amazing! Sometimes Mom allowed us to ride our bikes to Erskine Elementary School. I know I had different bikes along the way, but the one I remember well and rode the most was the new Lime Green Schwinn Super Sport 10-speed (the photo on the page looks exactly like my bike except it's a boys bike). My sister Carol had an creamsicle-orange one.

Even after I turned 16 and had a driver's license, I still rode my bike a lot. I rode to: work at the Dairy Queen, downtown for shopping or out to the Lindale Mall, to the pool, to church during the week, to friends' houses, on the right-of-way bike trail as a short cut to get to high school and just anywhere really. If I'd have a conflagration with a family member, I'd take off on my bike to think, get away, cool down, be outside and breathe.

Sometimes, on rare and odd occasions, we'd even ride our bikes out to the 5-B Stables where Shareef, our half Arabian-half Quarter horse, lived. This was a nerve-wracking thing because there were no bikes lanes/trails/paths on the road that led out of town. Just that thin, little white line. Invariably, when it was time to return home we'd call our parents and ask if one of them could come and pick us up. You know, where does the time fly when you're out at the barn having fun and are too tired to ride home?

I've had used bikes, newer bikes, bikes that were stolen - and replaced. But I always had a bike. Since 1994, I've had my BBF = bestbikefriend M400 Turquoise-blue Cannondale. I got it so I could ride to Luther House in Manhattan, KS when I was the Lutheran Campus Pastor. Come that spring, one of my students, Noel, who was an avid mountain-biker said, "Hey, c'mon - I'll take you out to the Spillway trails." "Okay!" I chirped. Omigosh - I had no clue as to what I was doing or how fast he was going to ride or how steep and rollercoastery the trail would be!

Zooming past the branches, whizzing up and down, careening hither and yon - Noel shouts over his shoulder something important but that I could barely catch the word fragments: "Don't ---- blah, blah, blah -- the fron... brake --- blah, blah --- ....own hill."

What?!

Later I did that which he thought he had told me not to do. I nearly flipped the back wheel of my bike over my head while trying to brake WITH MY FRONT BRAKE while GOING DOWN HILL! This is what you aren't supposed to do. Thus, every newbie bike-person I take on crazy trail rides, I tell this this calmly before we take off madly peddling down precariously narrow trails that hug the Mississippi River bluffs.

Biking is healing for me. Even when I am flying like the wind or racing a friend up the Halenback Hill, I have this centered, calm feeling. During these Continuing Education days, I have pledged to myself that I will ride my bike someplace new every day. I have been doing this solo and having great adventures. On June 8, while out on a long stretch back roads' deserted highway, merrily peddling along I was greeted by an exuberant Golden Retriever who wanted to race me, run circles around me and was determined to playfully nip at my shoes while I was riding. Doggie did this for quite some time until s/he was bored with me. It was funny.

Upon further reflection on biking over these past days I have pondered the circular, rhythmic motion of biking. I think it's one of the few in the only means of "motatation" in which one propels oneself forward by a continuous (if you want to get anywhere) series of alternating circles. Think about it.

I'm not the only one who feels this way.

Urban Simplicity Blogger Joe George says it like this:

I have often found bicycling more than just a mode of transport from point-A to point-B. Nor is it simply a way to conserve gas money, get exercise, and save the planet...for me bicycling can actually be a meditative and spiritual practice. When I'm in traffic in a vehicle I, like many, often find myself frustrated and angry. When I'm on a bike life takes on a different pace...things are more relaxed, calmer...simpler.

There's a cool book, Open Your Heart, about biking that Joe referenced.

It looks like a great read!

And Joe has other links to others folks just like him --- and people like me.

I like how I can coast downhills and rest while still going pretty darn fast and that I can see the critters - both the lively ones and those who have met an ugly and untimely death by motor vehicle close up. I can stop at any given moment. Turn around. Ride off into the woods or slog through water-logged trails in a foot of deep, black mud. I can hear the birds sing as I roll by, smell the rich, black soil in the nearly plowed corn fields just after the rain and say hello to a watchful hawk sitting atop a power line pole and notice how it keeps its eye on me but doesn't fly away at my greeting.

In town, I find riding less relaxing than Joe does and experience it more akin to a big, dodging challenge in not getting killed by oblivious drivers. I still get a kick out of cheating death or taking a zippy-quick turn down an alley or byway that cars can't travel and get there faster than the goofy driver who absentmindedly almost ran me off the road. Round and round, I love powering myself ever forward, cycle by cycle, rotation by rotation into my next future.

I loved ET and all the bikes and boys and girls and ET riding in Elliot's front basket. There is this ethereal sense as they all peddle into the sky, that life is bliss amidst the danger, adventure and wonder. When I took my dog, Dylan, for rides as he calmly sat in the back basket, I wish I had taken pictures of him riding there. He loved that sense of freedom, wind in his face, smells in his nostrils racing into a canine future.

So, if you haven't been biking, well, you've probably heard the proverb about taking up something you haven't done in a while: It's just like - riding a bike! Find a bike. Peddle around (with a helmet) and maybe some other folks.

Just get out there and ride. Adventures await!