Riding Bikes

The other day I rode a road bike for the first time.  I wanted to overcome my fear and also feel what it might have been like for my brother on the day of his accident.  At first I felt selfish knowing how much he longs to be on a bike again.  It is the same feeling I get when I'm running or when I catch myself taking my range of motion for granted.  In the realization of impermanency, I feel so permanent, so attached to how I look and feel and operate, not wanting to lose any of it.  I don't really know what it's like.  I feel like I'm closer to knowing than ever before as I watched my brother long to get up from his wheelchair and yet a power beyond his control kept him in a seated position.  I feel touched by the gravity of his loss.  If only time really could heal all wounds.

So I rode my road bike.  I felt completely vulnerable and uncomfortable.  I am used to my mountain bike with thick, knobby tires and front and rear shocks.  It's like a cadillac in comparison.  I loved the speed, but as soon as I got up to speed, I was ready to slow way back down for fear I would forget again, for the third time how to place my hands to use the brakes.  I almost wanted to call it quits, but then I thought, "My brother wasn't scared of this."  In fact, my brother was genuinely stoked that I was going for a road bike ride.  He even warned me about things to watch for and told me, "I can't wait until I can ride again with you!  We have two awesome cities to explore."  If my brother's still not scared to get on a road bike, why should I be?  And so I kept riding...