Three Kinds

My last ride was a winter ride on the spur of the moment. I managed to wrangle a playdate for my four-year-old son. He bounded into the home of a friend and I bounded out to my road bike dangling from the back of my car. I wore my riding clothes to the drop off, set my internal timer for one hour and headed off. It was a fairly warm day, no snow or ice. I wore my wind breaker and I was glad I had because the wind was brutal. I road with it at my back for the first half of the ride, knowing full well that kind of leisure had a price. As I road a fairly familiar route I let my mind wander. I started to think about obstacles.

When you're riding on the road there are three fundamental categories of obstacles. 1) Things you know to avoid (e.g. car doors, dead animals, road grates that run parallel to the road) 2. Things that with some experience and skill you can go over (e.g. curbs, large branches or debris) and 3. things that make you say, "oh shit this is going to hurt". The final category can be surprising and can overlap with the first two and (as a much more experienced rider put it, "will change as you keep riding."

There isn't any way to ride roads or trails without obstacles. Hell, part of trail riding and mountain biking is bigger and more technical obstacles. In order to enjoy all the benefits of riding you have to be willing to get hurt. One of the nice parts about riding in a group is that a rider in front of you will flap a hand at an obstacle to avoid. The warning reminds me of flocking birds. My memories of group rides are filled with the hum of wheels and flutter of hands.

As I road that day I thought of all the things in life I avoid because I don't apply the biking obstacle logic to the rest of my life. The black top road stretched out ahead of me. I pushed into the wind.

Not Riding, Not Writing

Over the last two months I've been buying a house. It took me an abnormally long time to commit. Until now, I would have never characterized myself as someone who has trouble committing. But I do realize that when I use the word commitment the first image that pops into my head is of a mental institution. Nonetheless, I've come to think of that free association as just that, an underlying belief that my sanity is tied to freedom. So, I seek things that make me feel freer and teach myself that committing is also a way to be find freedoms not obtained without the initial commitment. For example, a relationship with one lover for much freer than a series of dates if only because eventually you can fart in front of each other. This whole idea runs so counter to a lot of what we have been led to believe.

Committing to this home also means that it's mine. However, the committing has been cutting into my writing and riding time. Which ends up making me feel a little crazy (somehow coming back full circle to that institution image...) I long to get back out on the road or trail. I suspect that the roads are easier this time of year, it's cold as hell most of the time, but you don't get wet or run into slick patches as often. But I just can't seem to be making it happen as often as I need it to. Between the house, my son and my new--yes I'll just admit it---boyfriend I'm completely committed.

Not riding is no excuse for not writing. I'm not sure I can strap another commitment on, but perhaps it will make me more free if I just commit to writing something everyday. To close this post, I'll include the bike-ku from my last ride:

Quick, cold ride through town

Get a movie and head home

Earning some couch time