FEELING GOOD

 
Yesterday I took a long nap in the late afternoon and when the movie I watched finished at 10:00 p.m. I knew not to go straight to bed. So I watched some of my favorite music on YouTube and checked concert schedules and ticket prices. The Tedeschi Trucks band will be in Morrison, Colorado at Red Rocks in a couple of weeks and still have a few general admission passes  at ($230 each) but I don’t really want to go alone and the price is steep. It was midnight so I turned the AC off, opened windows and turned on the attic fan. 
My alarm went off at 6:20. The streets were wet from last night’s rain but it was clear and cool. I had dreamed or dreamt, I think both are correct, it was  a long dream that went on and on. I was riding-bike; not to be confused with riding (on) a bike. Riding-bike you and the machine become one, integrated system. Make the distinction between a two wheel kid’s toy and the legitimate mode of travel. In the dream I was with several others, dressed properly with lycra shorts that come almost the knees, shoes with toe clips, gloves and helmet. We transitioned from hills to winding grades, to the flat, went through a little rain shower and took turns riding up front. It was awesome.
I rode my bicycle seriously from 1978 until 2018. There is nothing like a 20-25 mile ride to satisfy an inherent need to be in motion. You have time to focus on technique: the spin, frequent gear changes to hold a steady RPM, small shifts forward and back on the seat, standing up and leaning forward on inclines, changing grips. It spreads the work across all of the muscle groups and for an hour and a half you stay fresh. All the while you check your mirror for traffic, take in the sights and sounds, spook wildlife you surprise as you roll up silently and people going about their business who miss you altogether. It’s almost like being invisible.
I was still biking in my mind in the shower; can’t remember when I woke up feeling so good. In 1983 I took my 11 year-old twins and 9 year-old daughter on a week long trek up the Lake Michigan shore from Kalamazoo to Traverse City. By then they had good bikes and were accomplished riders. With a small tent and two sleeping bags we camped, ate at delis along the way and made new friends at every stop. Nine summers later we were living in Missouri. My then 15 year-old daughter and I were the only ones not working but we both had great bicycles. We put those bikes and the same old tent in the back of the pickup and went to the West Coast for July and part of August. Between camping and visits with friends and family we took in Yosemite National Park and biked most of the Southern California’s beaches from Huntington Beach down to San Clemente. 
Time either flies when you’re having fun or it can drag through the doldrums but either way it will pass. So there I was in the shower, remembering details about bicycle technique and about happy, joyful times on the road with my kids. I turned 50 that summer in California. I have a photo of us on our bikes, on the beach in Newport Beach and I take a lot of comfort in old photos. They speak to another time with crystal clarity: yes, that’s us and this is how it really was. That was a great day and I knew it even then. Today is a great day as well. I woke up feeling not new but certainly better than my years might suggest. 
Early July and the Tour de France is underway. Super Bowl is an American thing that gets a lot more attention than it merits. The money it generates is remarkable but it’s business, more about the the money than it is a sport. The Tour de France is a 21 stage bicycle race (21 days, 21 separate races) with a global following, competitors and teams from all around the world. After 4 days the individual leader is Mathieu van der Poel, a Dutch rider. A typical stage race can last from two to five hours and cover long, grueling, steep mountain grades or straight, flat stretches between villages with their hairpin corners and crowds spilling onto the course or challenging combinations of both. What I like about the Tour is that all the riders belong to a team of 6 or 7  and they work as a team to protect their #1 rider and move him to the front as the race nears the finish. Not negative but I prefer the leg-pumping, elbow bumping on the steep climb to the finish line. I tend to fall asleep with NFL and NASCAR business. 
Getting back to waking up feeling good and keeping that happy thing going, I was informed by a friend who should know, “Do what you can with what you have, fix what you break and find the joy.”  Joy; a feeling of pleasure or happiness. It is after-all, a possibility made real. Finding the joy is not about getting what you want, it’s more like getting lemons and making lemonade. “You want joy, if it doesn’t come knocking on your door then make some from what you’ve got.” I have to look for it under every stone, in the darkness as well as the light. I have to treasure every tiny little shred of happiness with the full blown weight of the greater joy I seek. Sometimes I lose my way and sh*t happens but you start over, look under a new stone or grope in the dark for a new beginning. I still get up on days I don’t feel this good because time doesn’t stand still and I have high hopes for 
tomorrow’s wake-up.