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Passion, Muddy Legs, and Blue Sky

It’s been a while since I can say that I had mud on my legs and actually appreciated that fact. You see I went for a mountain bike ride Sunday afternoon. The last time I was off road on a bicycle I lived in California. That was six years ago. My old ti bike has been transformed into a rigid forked, slick tired city basher that can pull a Burley trailer with baby. The cold weather has arrived suddenly and riding a road bike in weather like this sucks. You need a thousand layers on and even then your fingers and toes freeze. I am a warm weather roadie. Riding the rollers indoors is an exercise in will and focus and patience. I started thinking there had to be a better way to keep riding my bike outside until the snow started falling.

I had a brilliant and simple idea. I’d buy another bike. Mon dieux! Not another bike! Yes add another to the stable of 3 now 4. So a friend of mine sold me his full suspension bike that he never rode and was in virtually showroom condition (thank you Chris!). I opted to just do a mellow tour around town since my lower back has decided that after 50 years of playing stunt man it’s rebelling. (Ok at this point in the story those of you who are asking why someone who is ailing would throw a leg over something that is meant to subdue terrain that most people would have a hard time walking. You are smarter than me. So stop reading this instant. Those of who you who love watching someone about to do bodily harm to themselves – keep reading!).

As I pedaled around I felt pretty good so I decided to ride in a section of woods that we (the old bike crew) used to ride regularly. 8 years ago I knew those trails intimately. I steered the bike onto the trailhead and it all started coming back to me. I found myself knowing what corner was next, what line to pick, and when (thank gawd!) to dismount and walk it (don’t tell anyone though). The further I rode the more my love of riding off road began to resurface after a long disappearing act. An hour into my rediscovery I found a large rock in a clearing that looked good to stretch out on. I did some yoga there on that rock to keep my back loose. And then I lay back and looked up and breathed deeply.

The sky was a brilliant blue and the clouds all puffy white. The only sound was the wind and nothing else. A hawk raced overhead on one of the wind gusts - so effortless and inseparable from this place. Feeling the sun warming me on such a cold day felt restorative. I had never in all my years of riding mountain bikes just stopped and relaxed and appreciated the place I was in and the expression of solitude. We used to race along these trails on a mission and with total focus. A competition with either ourselves or each other. Today it was just me appreciating the moment.

A few crows passed and landed in a nearby tree. They had a conversation going that was probably about the hawk. I smiled listening to their song. I stretched a little more and gave thanks to this place and this moment that I was able to stop and appreciate the passion I rediscovered.

I finished my ride in the woods and rode home on the road feeling calm and clear and re-energized. I looked down at the mud covering my legs and on my new bike and smiled. I took the time to play and get dirty and loved every second of it. Mountain biking used to be my favorite sport. And on this blustery Sunday I got my mojo back.

That felt awesome. So here’s my advice. Go play and find your passion. The time is most certainly now…

Keeping the knobby side down.

J

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