Biking as a Metaphor for Life

Sometimes I hem and haw and don’t want to expend the effort to go bicycling, but I get on anyway. Because I know that along the way, I’ll see and hear and feel wonderful things–birds singing, crickets chirping, trees blossoming, children playing, my body moving fast under its own power, sweat from exertion being wicked away by the wind, a mad bass beat pumping from tiny little earbuds into my brain. Endorphins rock.

Half of my ride is spent smiling and laughing, and often that means bugs in my teeth and down my throat. It’s all part of the adventure.

There are other hazards: I’ve been stung by bees, had mud slung up my back, been cold and wet and dirty, fallen on my keister a time or two (not bad for how many miles I’ve ridden, and how fast I ride), and gotten caught in lightning storms. Once I had to make a split-second decision whether to run over a snake and kill it, because I was going about 25 mph, or swerve and risk wrecking. I swerved. I didn’t wreck.

No two bike rides are ever the same. My body, my energy, my mind, the weather, and my path are always different. Biking uses my body, my mind, and my heart. And spirit? Well, when I ride, I intentionally see each person I pass as a beam of divine light. A lot of people smile back.

Who I am when I’m biking is the best of me and the best of life: centered, loving, intentional, and carefree.

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