For the last six weeks, preparing myself for long distance bike rides has become a religion, calling me, testifying that I'm not as young as I used to be, witnessing that I can withstand the heat, and baptizing me in sweat drenched clothes. I've had an epiphany: exercise and fitness has to be nothing less than a religion, a commitment.
Since latter May, no question about it, my legs are testament to gaining strength climbing hills that were near an impossibility a month ago. It's been a slow climb, a slow build. If I want to ride the big boy/girl rides, it will not happen as instantaneously as making Kool-Aid. You gotta do your time.
I'm now up to a ten mile comfortable ride at a 15 mph pace. By August 1st, the ride pimps to 25 miles, pace of my choice, for Greenwood's Bicycles, Bayous, and Blues ride through the Delta. Nearing the half century mark in age, my body wants to wink as the offering plate of old age nears.
Cycling as religion calls for prayer: my body prays for forgiveness as the spokes turn for the years of food abuse and cardio neglect, for the years of not moving at all. Nothing. You must have faith that there's something better for your body to subject to heat and hills everyday.
As a society, yes I am guilty, too, we have become obsessed with comfort and ease of life. This feeling of entitlement to absolute comfort, the it should be easy, make it no-sweat easy, we are technologically advanced so that life should be effortless ideology, has found too many of us in poor physical condition, fat, and with medical issues out the wazoo.
When the bike rubber meets the road to Damascus, exercise takes on multi-dimensional benefits: improved quality of life, better cardio health, increased strength and flexibility, and stress relief. I'm a believer.
Pray for me. Pray for my ride.
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