The Great Escape

When I see an adult on a bicycle, I do not despair for the future of the human race. ~H.G. Wells

Most of us have a retreat, a place where we can escape the clamor of the world around us, if only for a little while. Some may find solace at a pub table, a church pew or perhaps some have to wander no further than the couch in their living room. Even while at first glance these places may seem to have little in common, they all achieve a common effect. For a number of years, my bike has been my pub table, my church pew, my escape. On the days when the pillars of my life seem to be wavering and the days when things are going great, as well as all the average days in between, this is where I like to pass my idle time.


Today I sit staring at the trailhead before me. Beyond the low hanging willow branches lies a path that sashays through the trees leading eventually to another equally hidden trailhead at the other end. Where this trail leads of of little consequence though, as for the vast majority of my rides, the goal is not to go somewhere, but rather, to just go. Some may laugh and say that I am crazy to even think of wheeling my bike out anywhere after the first snow, but I am not out here for them, nor do I do this to be environmentally friendly or to make some statement, I do this for me. As a result, whether or not people think riding around on my bike in the dead of winter or in the rain, or anytime for that matter, is crazy, is of little importance.

As I drop behind the curtain of branches the noise of the city loses its obtrusiveness, eventually to be replaced by the quiet whur of my tires rolling across the ribbon of trail below me. As my feet spin below on their respective pedals, above, my mind spins through the recent events of my life. The past few months have been busy and have brought about some big changes, while the months ahead hold the prospect for more of the same. Inwardly I wonder about the fate of the airport I work at, and the implications for me, I wonder if where I am is where I am supposed to be, I wonder if I unplugged the kettle before I left the apartment.
I wonder the thousands of things that a world full of people all around me wonder everyday.
Even while my bike is my refuge, I have no illusions that all of my concerns will be solved by the time I pedal up to my front step. Like not biking to get somewhere, but rather to go, I do not go out to ride with the intention of fixing what I perceive as being the problems in my life at that point in time. I go out with the intention of trying.

I push down hard on the pedals one last time for tonight as I make my way up the last hill to climb out of the river valley. The noise of the city starts to flood back in with its usual intensity and the trail ahead lightens as I pedal back into the soft light of the streetlights above. The world seems a different place now from when I first ducked into the trailhead a hour or so ago.
Things that had seemed to be problems before, do not seem to be anymore, while other concerns that seemed insurmountable, now look easier to manage. The world once again makes sense. I realise that being on my bike doesn't change the world around me, anymore than sitting in a church pew or a barstool or the couch in my livingroom can. All it can do is offer a new perspective to help change how I look at it. I like that.