I am jealous of this photo. I want to ride shaded streets in Colorado, badly. This is a shot from the most recent post of a cycling blog I read, Manual for Speed. It's not always very eloquently written (I think some of the posts are written by pro-cyclists themselves) and sometimes it's obvious an entry wasn't edited very well. However, Manual for Speed captures one thing about cycling that I love, when I'm on the bike, everything makes sense. My head is clear, I seem to know my place in the universe, in life, at work and school, family stuff all seems simple, it just all makes sense. When I'm on the bike it seems that if I just approach everything in like I do on the bike, it will work out. So I need to keep moving forward, looking back every now and then to make sure I haven't left anyone form the group behind, checking my position relative to traffic, keep working hard, give it my best, maintain speed on the flats but conserve energy for the climb, work hard to the top of a hill and over the crest and then tuck and coast, letting the air pass over me as gravity carries me home. But then I get off the bike, and I can't seem to keep the focus, my priorities get messed up, I don't eat right. I don't sleep enough, I get grumpy. Life happens. However, sometimes, the feeling of being on the bike lingers. Sometimes I am so focused I know exactly what I need to do, when to do it, and how to do it; I get that gratification that comes, not just from accomplishing something, but nailing it, and knowing that you are good at what you do, that you will make it, and that everything's going to be okay. Some days I'm a great husband and father, a great teacher, a good colleague, everything clicks, just like when I'm on a great ride. I know sports analogies are tired and cliche, but I think there is a reason they surface so much. If athletes in other sports have an experience similar to mine when I ride, the sports analogy can't help but surface, because everything makes sense on the bike.
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