Sorry, but I'm not talking about David Hasselhof's personal theology, or anything nearing the worship of K.I.T.T. (though really, that's one badass car). I'm talking about what it's like to ride at night, with cars warping time as they fly by, and with a tiny dot of visible road ten feet ahead at unbelievable speeds. In those moments, I am reminded of how gooey I am, really. And I'm reminded how the difference between my bike and a spear, is as little as a crash at the right speed and angle to impale me.
But hey, that's half the point!
Truth is, I took up cycling as an adult just two years ago, so I'm still a noob to it all. But part of why I took it up was because I started making a conscious effort to live more dangerously... riskily... or boldly... however you wanna put it, I wanted to do stupid, reckless stuff. Like riding at stupid speeds down a tight, muddy hillside in the middle of a thunderstorm. Or like the time I ended up waist-deep in the middle of basically rapids, holding my bike above my head, with the pebbles beneath my feet quickly slipping away, one at a time. Or like night-riding.
To be fair, it's not that stupid. It's not, as long as you're well enough equipped or accessorized. You know, lights and whatnot. I, however, am questionably equipped, and there are several points where I scan the roadside for bail-out areas if I should suddenly hit a pothole at thirty thousand miles per hour and have to jump toward something softer than asphalt.
But the entire process of doing reckless things has a few interesting results. First of all, I start to feel indestructible. I spend a lot of my thoughts reminding myself that I have health insurance, and that I can recover from pretty much anything that can happen to me, and I have a lot of practice keeping myself from thinking about getting trapped under a car's drive wheel for five miles. And that, folks, that's an important life skill. Practical and applicable.
Something else, though, it does to me. With a mediocre or just plain bad light, you never see what's coming until it's too late. So I plan and keep my eyes open, looking for any sign of cracks or potholes well ahead of me so I can react in time. But when it comes down to it, I never have more than a fraction of a second to react, and that's so much like life in general. I make all my plans, do my best to see the future, do my best to make my future happen, plan for the worst and hope for the best. But when it comes down to it, I'm riding through life, downhill, at breakneck speeds and leaning over the handlebars, with no time to react.
Now that's an exercise in faith. Take that, Hoff (not K.I.T.T. though, I won't mess with him).
But hey, that's half the point!
Truth is, I took up cycling as an adult just two years ago, so I'm still a noob to it all. But part of why I took it up was because I started making a conscious effort to live more dangerously... riskily... or boldly... however you wanna put it, I wanted to do stupid, reckless stuff. Like riding at stupid speeds down a tight, muddy hillside in the middle of a thunderstorm. Or like the time I ended up waist-deep in the middle of basically rapids, holding my bike above my head, with the pebbles beneath my feet quickly slipping away, one at a time. Or like night-riding.
To be fair, it's not that stupid. It's not, as long as you're well enough equipped or accessorized. You know, lights and whatnot. I, however, am questionably equipped, and there are several points where I scan the roadside for bail-out areas if I should suddenly hit a pothole at thirty thousand miles per hour and have to jump toward something softer than asphalt.
But the entire process of doing reckless things has a few interesting results. First of all, I start to feel indestructible. I spend a lot of my thoughts reminding myself that I have health insurance, and that I can recover from pretty much anything that can happen to me, and I have a lot of practice keeping myself from thinking about getting trapped under a car's drive wheel for five miles. And that, folks, that's an important life skill. Practical and applicable.
Something else, though, it does to me. With a mediocre or just plain bad light, you never see what's coming until it's too late. So I plan and keep my eyes open, looking for any sign of cracks or potholes well ahead of me so I can react in time. But when it comes down to it, I never have more than a fraction of a second to react, and that's so much like life in general. I make all my plans, do my best to see the future, do my best to make my future happen, plan for the worst and hope for the best. But when it comes down to it, I'm riding through life, downhill, at breakneck speeds and leaning over the handlebars, with no time to react.
Now that's an exercise in faith. Take that, Hoff (not K.I.T.T. though, I won't mess with him).
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