The joy of cycling: the sense of freedom, the rush of wind as you descend, the elation of self-powered momentum and speed, the hum of rubber on tarmac or the smell of the forest as the rain clears. I could go on.
Every time I ride my bike I am reminded of at least one aspect of why I love to cycle. Sometimes, sitting at home, I need to remind myself of those moments.
It is always easier to sit and do nothing. There are more occasions than I care to remember when I have been at home, agitated and distracted, knowing full well that my medicine is on two wheels, but my motivation has been a heavy burden to lift.
In recent years the distractions have become increasingly related to electronic devices.
Oh, the times I have sat scrolling through mind-numbing pages of social media, absent-mindedly clicking on “thumbs-up”, or “heart” before moving on. I have sat in front of screens aimlessly opening pages, closing pages with no actual destination in mind.
Before I know it an hour or more of my life has passed me by and my mood sinks further. It never used to be like this. I know this as I can look to my children for confirmation.
Unfettered by social media, their actions are spontaneous. They decide they want to go for a bike ride and they go for a bike ride.
I can see changes. Lockdown has seen our normal: access to electronics, rules becoming more lenient and when I ask: “Who wants to go for a ride” I am increasingly met with: “Soon, I’m just finishing this”.
“This” is invariably some form of interaction with an electronic device. John Lennon’s lyrics to Beautiful Boy – “Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans” could quite easily be updated, exchanging “making other plans” to “staring at a screen”.
What concerns me is that I am fully aware of this, but it is an easy hole to fall into and a tough scramble to get back out again. I suppose part of the problem is that the spontaneity I once had as a child has gone.
No more can I just get up in the morning, chuck on my clothes from the pile lying at the side of my bed and head out to play all day with my bike at my side. I have responsibilities and attending to those means that I need to set aside time to head out on my bike.
Life is a battleground of things competing for your attention and even with the best of intentions making space for those things you know will lift your spirits can be hard.
During lock-down, my time seems to have taken on an unfamiliar form. It may just be me, but the hours and days seem to pass by quicker, but with that I have noticed how quickly my children are growing up.
I recently passed a significant birthday, and perhaps this is fuelling my consternation. Consequently, I am making concerted efforts to spend more time out on my bike.
Normally I spend so much of the year away working, guiding other cyclists that I rarely get to ride for myself. This enforced period of staying at home has given me an opportunity that I often lament that I never have time for. I don’t want to waste that opportunity sitting at home staring at a screen.
The responsibilities are still there, but I have been making time, even if that means getting up at 4am as the sun rises, to get out on my bike.
The injection of contentment that I get from doing so remains with me for the rest of the day. Paraphrasing a quote I once heard, I feel like I have not just lived the length of the day, I have lived the width of it as well.
It seems that, at times like these I need my bike more than ever.
Cycling miscellany
American poet Diane Ackerman once wrote:
“When I go biking, I repeat a mantra of the day’s sensations: bright sun, blue sky, warm breeze, blue jay’s call, ice melting and so on.
“This helps me transcend the traffic, ignore the clamouring of work, leave all the mind theatres behind and focus on nature instead. I still must abide by the rules of the road, of biking, of gravity.
“But I am mentally far far away from civilisation. The world is breaking someone else’s heart.”
NB Please adhere to government guidelines in all outdoor activities.
