"Joy is in the pavement beneath my machine, I am the miles behind my back." I remember thinking up that phrase over a year ago as I rode. It was a thought conjured up on a typical training ride on a familiar stretch of Manhattan highway. My desire was to sum up what cycling meant to me and I had been seeking the perfect phrase to express it. All of a sudden, there it was, smack dab in the middle of my mind. And it was perfect.
Cycling is unlike most sports I know and it is unlike any other I have ever competed within. I have felt pressure in baseball, exhaustion in American-football, and exhilaration in rugby, but I have only ever felt those sensations and more in cycling. Rugby did come close to the love I feel for cycling. Heck, taking a fire off the ruck and trucking two would-be-tacklers to dive into the tri-zone after a 60 meter run is pretty dang hard to beat. The daydreams I used to have of running the ball down the pitch dodging tacklers, and those of making text book tackles now have brothers and sisters in the visions I see of launching a massive attack and breaking free from the peloton.
In the first moments of the attack time stops, for a fraction of a second you are amongst the peloton standing rigid on your pedals. All the muscles in your body are straining; from your neck to your toes. Each muscle group pulls tight as your body fights the strain of sudden acceleration, first generating it and then following it. In this brief moment a member of the opposition might call out an alarm to the rest of the pack. His call is merely the gun in your ears as it signals your departure. After that, it is only the void. Where the sound of neighboring shifters clicking, wheels humming, and occasional chatter amongst racers once existed is now replaced by an incredible silence. Your breathing comes in your ears, noticeably affected by the present rush of adrenaline. Wind accompanies its rhythmic huffing as a low roar, the perfect ambiance to the tunnel you are racing down. You are, all at once, more minuscule by the great expanse that not only lies before you, but around and above. Along a track you race, out of the saddle, swinging the bike back and forth with sprinter's legs. You are tiny, alone, nervous. Thoughts abound. Can I make it? Is anyone chasing? How far is the group up the road? Do I have enough food, water? Your heart beats faster. Faster than it should from the exertion alone. It is the fuel you'll need for the moments ahead. The rush will give way and in its place will come pain.
"Joy is in the pavement beneath my machine." When the first part of that phrase came to me I didn't know anything about racing. The exhilaration and nervousness of competition were foreign to me. I did know; however, something about desire. Desire is the only thing that took a stocky wannabe to the hopeful that exists today. Desire is what fuels hope. It fuels me. The pavement is life. My machine is me. Joy is the journey.
"I am the miles behind my back." No matter where we go and who we become we could only have gotten there along the path we've trodden. The past may be bitter, even painful, but it exists in all of us. Be thankful for each and every experience you've had, you wouldn't be the same person without them. I can always find peace with who I am today by who I wish to be tomorrow. Hope is the expanse ahead and the opportunity to change.
I am the miles that lie ahead.
