Get Lost and Stay There

Look, Nature. 

I finally got my long-awaited bike ride in. The reason I put so much hope into my bike rides is that I get much more out of them than simply exercise. I get adventure. I get a challenge and I find some semblance of clarity.

Proof I did stuff, or at least
dressed up like I was gonna do stuff...

I find that I have to really work on disappearing into nature before I can find moments of peace, clarity, spirituality and humility. I can find these moments everyday, but they take work. Somehow being alone on the trail inserts me into a place where I find perspective and a weird combination of intense, heart-pounding serenity.

I found it today, caked in mud, panting with my glasses fogged and my breath billowing out in clouds of exhilaration. I felt it at the top of the mountain (technically this was a small hill, but I am from Louisiana, so anything above sea level qualifies...plus drama and stuff). I felt it in surveying the world around me and feeling only a small sense of accomplishment, but a greater sense of appreciation with how beautiful the world can be when you pause. It often takes exhaustion for me to pause, but when I do, I submit entirely and it is wonderful.

View from the top...It's just low cloud cover/fog, I didn't climb THAT high. Still qualifies as mountain status, though

I picked this ride because it was close to town, I knew the trails and I didn't think too many people would be out in these conditions and it used to be the ride I would do after a long day at the farm I used this particular ride as a measuring stick to see how my fitness progressed. Did I get faster on the climb, through the turns on the downhill? Did I take less breaks? Did I use a bigger gear? And so on.

What I discovered while climbing was that my cycling and climbing fitness is not what it was two years ago, but my mental, emotional and spiritual fitness is the strongest it has ever been.

I used to get frustrated with having to take breaks in the climb because I thought it meant I was weak. Now I can pause and just feel the cold air, hear the leaves rustling and enjoy the pain of pushing to my limits. I used to think it was something to accomplish to prove my worth to myself and to others, but today it felt more like having a personal adventure that gave me a story to tell because I wanted to tell it, not because I needed an audience.

I will carry the feeling of being lost in the woods with me as long as it will stay with me and then I will be off on my next adventure. Bonus: I burned way more calories than my previous bike-related tantrum.

Also, since this was a ride that inspired deep philosophical thought, I included a picture I took on the way down the "mountain" of a chicken crossing the road.

Why did the chicken cross the road? To quietly judge your life decisions as you pass her in a dented family sedan totally covered in mud. Or perhaps to get to the others side...probably both