I know I write too often about bikes and I was going to give you, my faithful readers, a small break, but FH and I hit a little milestone in our two-wheeled lives and I am just so proud of it, not for the number of miles or for the exercise benefits or anything of the sort, but for many reasons that I don't really feel I could or can fully express thoroughly enough with just words. I wouldn't normally share it if it were just numbers, a distance, or a goal met, but because it's not, I feel a small necessity to share because I'd like you know a little about it. It may be my age or that I've moved past the mileage game, but I no longer feel the need or desire to tell of my runs or rides in terms of distance or speed, but rather in terms of what I've gained mentally or emotionally from these times when I escape to a world of simple tasks and am able to leave so many things behind and only hear the wind passing through my helmet or my seemingly always labored breathing. I still love to compete, but it feels that I am losing the desire to compete in the things I call my hobbies. Now, don't get me wrong, if I'm out on a run and see you up ahead, I'll still do my best to run you down or if I'm out biking and you're up ahead, I'll still try to catch you and attempt to pass you. That will always be in me.
Ever since FH turned one and we were allowed to legally and weight-wise ride with him in a seat behind me, the whole act of riding has changed for me. Before this, riding was exercise and I was getting on the bike to try to become a more proficient rider hoping to one day become good at it. I have these visions, albeit delusional, of me being lean and great at riding like some of the guys I know. Guys who can ride a hundred miles in under 5 hours. Guys who are sponsored. Guys who ride hundreds of miles each day training for things called "Tours" or "Giros" in places like France, Italy, and Australia. However, from our very short and nervous ride to our last Sunday ride a few days ago, riding has become a true escape for me. The bike has and still continues to be a place were my life becomes composed again, even if its just for a short moment, of simplicity. And it is this simplicity that I crave so much these days.
Little FH was born a little over 2.5 years ago and it is no secret that our lives have been drastically been altered during this time period. Our little family has gone through more stress, loss, frustration, loneliness, and bitterness than I truly care to dwell on for long and this bike: a 1982ish Huffy Bay Pointe 3 Speed Mixte has been the exact opposite of all of that for me. No matter what is going on or has just taken place, I can grab my sweet boy FH, put a few things in our basket, and just ride. We never really have a destination and I've only ridden once when I cared anything about how fast we were going. There is never spandex, speed cadence meters, heart rate monitors, guilt from lack of mileage, etc. There isn't the stress of no burning enough calories. There is only a little boy, a diaper bag, a bottle of water, a few snacks, and me. And sometimes, our sweet Melissa rides with us and it is just three humans and four wheels smiling with the wind through out hair and everything feels right. And it is always enough. And I cannot say that for any other area of my life. Every other area of my life feels like I am never enough or that I don't have what it takes. But sitting in the saddle of this Sears bike, it feels like I always have enough and that I have what it takes. I know this may sound lame or sound too sentimental, but I am only trying to write how I feel.
And so about two weeks ago on a short and quick ride before dinner, FH and I headed out into the twilight hours, or what I've heard referred to as of late, as the golden hour, and attempted to hit a small milestone and after riding for about 25 minutes came to a stop in the middle of a small, heavily-rutted back road and had a brief and minor celebration. I celebrated the milestone and FH celebrated the Goldfish and cold water we shared with each other and the goats nearby. As of that moment, FH and I had ridden 500 miles together in 2014 in a wide range of places and on an even wider range of terrain.
We have had early morning rides and night rides. We've ridden on bike trails and down busy four lane highways. We have ridden down city streets surrounded by a couple hundred thousand people that live there and we've ridden places where there the only sign of human existence was the small dirt road we were riding on. We have seen sunrises and sunsets. We've seen people kissing and fighting. We've crashed once and fallen off once. We've gotten four or five flat tires. We've had to call Melissa twice to come get us. We've run out of diapers a couple of times. We've laughed, tickled each other, cried, and both gotten angry at each other and situations. We've spotted animals, flowers, and once even rode in the moonlight next to a few deer who seem to be running with us for a few moments. We've been chased by dogs and cows and even once rode over a rattlesnake. We've picked up turtles, weeds, flowers, and fruit. We've been waved out, yelled at, cussed at, stared out, honked at, chased, and once even stopped and told to never be seen riding on a certain road. We've ridden inside and outside and once used the bike as our shopping cart. We've sweated and shivered. We snacked and even stopped several times to take a nap. We've played on more playgrounds that I can recall. We've even ridden and competed in a bike race and even came in first. Two guys on two wheels can see and experience a lot. And I wouldn't want to spend my time doing anything less.
500 miles is a long way, but it feels as if I wish it weren't so short. It seems to be not enough. Our longest ride has been a Sunday afternoon 21 miler and our shortest is less than a tenth of a mile. We average about 10 miles an hour, but sometimes, it is more like 8 or 9. The ride is always what it needs to be and I never think later on of how we could have gone faster, longer, or how I could have ridden the ride or a section of the ride better or more proficiently. It is always enough. I'm sure you could ride that distance faster and with more grace. I'm sure your rig is nicer or cost much more. I'm sure you could ride that distance in far less time than it took us. I'm sure of all of all those things. But I care about it not at all. I respect your ability and FH and I'll cheer for you when you pass us with gusto. I'm sure about all those things because I know that you may be a better rider, on a better bike, but I also know that you don't have as good of a co-pilot as I do. And I wouldn't trade that component for anything.
DAVID
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