| Cross-Country Ramble 39:
Body, Mind & Soul Sent: 04/10/98
Body.
I'm of an age where "healthy tan" is not an oxymoron. To my eyes,
I've gotten a wonderful tan on my exposed parts (the rest of me
still looks like the great white whale). My tan has some interesting
features. The top right hand side of my legs and arms are tan but
not the bottom left side, a result of biking always eastward in a
recumbent position. The bottom of my face is tan, but my forehead
and eye sockets are white, and my bald pate has two wonderful tan
stripes running from front to back--sort of an inverse Mohawk look.
My biking helmet creates these strange effects. I love it!
After biking a month, a muscle or two has appeared in my legs.
They're not Tom Sellig's legs, but one lady we were talking to a few
days ago said, "Hey, your knees look pretty good to me," as we were
explaining that my sore knee had interrupted our trip two years
before. What a rush!
We started this trip doing 25-mile days and feeling pretty tired.
Last week, we got to our intended destination for the day and felt
so good that we decided to bike on to the next and still felt good
after 53 miles. We've biked almost 1000 miles and there's no sign of
the knee problem that stopped us in High Island, TX. The soreness I
felt in my Achilles tendons during the first week of this stage of
our journey has disappeared. I've been able to stop worrying about
whether my legs will get me to the Atlantic and simply relax and
enjoy the ride. What a feeling!
Mind.
In response to my think piece on Culture, one of our
correspondents, a good friend, humorously chided, "You're thinking
too much! Stop thinking and ride the bike!" But no! Thinking is one
of the things a bike trip is about. Even when we're biking a route
we've traveled previously by car, biking presents us with a whole
new set of data. It's very specific, here and now, detailed data,
as-yet unprocessed. So much of the data or information that comes to
us in our normal live is preprocessed, with a spin already on it. On
a bike trip the data comes in raw. Our slow pace gives my mind
plenty of time to do what the human mind is programmed to do. I
compare and contrast what my senses are telling me with what I've
sensed before. I count and categorize. I interpret data and reflect
on its meaning. I decide what's important and what's not, what's
good and what's bad. Sometimes an "aha" comes--that's the best part.
Soul.
Carol's words floated back to me on the wind today, "Hey, I think
you've mastered your Lenten discipline!" "Hey," I called back, "I
think you're right!"
I've always found it difficult to come up with a Lenten
discipline. Mostly what I do for Lent is spend Lent failing to come
up with just the right thing. When Carol asked me a couple of times
what I was going to take on, I told her I was working on it.
Finally, at the start of our trip, when Carol asked me again what I
was going to do, I shot back, "I think what I'll do is follow you
this trip, instead of you following me." When I thought about it a
minute, I decided this was an inspired idea. Following Carol would
be an easy way to keep me from getting too far ahead. It wuld be an
easy way to keep me from burning up my knees. As it turned out, I
was right about the benefits, but it wasn't easy. No more attacking
the hills. No more trying to maintain speed going into a headwind.
No more cutting through holes in traffic. No more following her so
closely that I risk hitting her when she slowed down or put on the
brakes. Following is not my strong suit. I've learned this fact the
hard way--several times, and I've forgotten it as many times as I've
learned it. This time, I'm getting the hang of following Carol, and
it's only taken me most of the 40 days of Lent to do it. Maybe this
time the learning might stick.
"You are dust and to dust you shall return." These Ash Wednesday
words set the tone for Lent. We started phase two of our journey a
few days into Lent. Last Sunday was Palm Sunday. Palm Sunday gets
the prize for being the most ironic Sunday of the year. The hymn
that begins "Ride on, ride on in majesty," and ends "ride on to
die," expresses the irony pretty well. This week is Holy Week and
our journey is about to end. Maybe we'll reach the Atlantic on
Easter day. Certainly during Easter week. There's got to be a
metaphor in there somewhere. Perhaps we've just spent 40 days in the
desert in preparation for some new ministry. Maybe we've wandered 40
years in the wilderness and are about to enter some Promised Land.
We'll see.
Ken
- Itinerary (days from Ventura, CA, in ( )'s)
- Day 32-33 (91-92) Tallahassee, FL
- Day 34 (93) Monticello, FL (where this picture was taken)
- Day 35 (94) Madison, FL
- Day 36 (95) Live Oak, FL
- Day 37 (96) Lake City, FL
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