Friday, June 25, 2010

A Cyclist's Holy Day

Last Wednesday (June 23) was Denver's Bike to Work Day. For a variety of reasons, it was the first opportunity I'd had to participate in the event since moving to Colorado three years ago. It was a regular observance for me in California; it happened there during national Bike to Work Week, the third week of May. Of course, it took a bit of getting used to, this change in time. But I reconciled myself to the fact that I'd changed calendars -- kind of like from the Julian to the Gregorian. The "festival" was the same, just on a different day.

The festival was the same: ensure that I have work clothes, but also cycling gear (distinctive garb: helmet, shoes, maybe spandex); find a breakfast station or two (and partake of the sacred meal -- bagel, burrito, whatever); wave at the other cycle-commuters (acknowledging our membership in a select community); arrive at work and re-enter the world of "regular" people. It is almost a religious rite! And, given that it occurs on the same day every year (even if the day is different in different locales), it takes on, somewhat, the nature of a holy day for those in the community. Those of us "devotees" are happy to support neophytes, offering suggestions and encouragement. A similar phenomenon occurs for many cyclists as they anticipate their favorite annual charity rides or races. We begin to pattern our lives a bit around these sacred times: we make arrangements to be away from home or job, we set aside time for training, etc. And the sacred times begin to form us: we become stronger, other activities (or some foods) no longer attract us, etc..

I'm sure the same is true for other athletes, or even spectators. We're surrounded by examples: the four-year cycles of World Cup, Olympics, Winter Olympics; the annual cycles of various sports championships and tournaments; Opening Day in baseball; gosh, even the Westminster Dog Show or the Western National Stock Show (the end of which signifies, in Denver, the time to take down Christmas lights, I'm told). And all of this is clearly generalizable. Time forms us all, provides structure and meaning (e.g., 7:00 am means breakfast; 9:00 pm means the kiddos go to bed; January 1st means we start over again; etc.). Sacred time forms us in a different way, providing opportunities for community-building, challenge, celebration, contemplation, and change.

What I've found is that my religious tradition's cycle of feasts and fasts, as well as my sport's training rides and centuries, help me remain grounded. They renew me; they help provide hope. I've found, too, that daily practice of both provides a foundation for those more widely-spaced events. No big surprise here; all of the world's religious traditions suggest some form of daily devotion. The message is the same all over: practice, practice, practice! And it becomes easier and more meaningful as time goes on.

Bike to Work Day is a festival. One that invites new people to experience the joy (and relative ease) of bicycle commuting. It encourages continual, daily, practice -- a practice that leads to health and well-being. It's a wonderful metaphor of other sacred practices. AND, they're good for you AND the planet!

Blessings,

Gary

Friday, June 18, 2010

That's commitment!

That's commitment!

I've been asked several times over the last few days why I'm not participating in the "Ride the Rockies". I could say "I didn't win the ticket lottery", and ease out of it that way. But the truth is that I'm conflicted about my commitments. Those who can take a week off from many responsibilities for this epic ride (the most difficult, it's reported, in its 25 year history) are indeed blessed by either much leisure time, or by an incredible support system, or both. I am NOT blessed with much leisure time; I DO have, however, an incredible support system, one to which I'm very committed. And I choose not to impose on it very often. (I did, however, impose on it in 2005 when I rode from San Francisco to Los Angeles in the AIDS LIfe Cycle 4 -- my ride of a lifetime!)

So, as I mentioned at the outset, I'm conflicted about my commitments. And I imagine that the riders pictured in the Denver Post were wondering about THEIR commitment to the ride on that first day when hit with a monumental hail storm, and then, in recent days with strong winds coupled with massive climbs. Yet, by all reports, riders are sticking to it, if necessary making use of SAG wagons (that's either "support and gear" or "stop and go") when their legs give out, in order to get to the next stopping point. They are committed to the experience, to enduring, to the goal of completing the journey.

How DO we deal with conflicting commitments? I remember reading in one of Stephen Covey's books (I think it was First Things First) that when faced with two compelling alternatives, the person(s) you turn down are more likely to understand when they know that your rejection is grounded in a STRONG "Yes" to the alternative. Saying "I just don't feel like it" won't get us much sympathy. So, for me to say that I'm not doing "Ride the Rockies" because of my commitment to my family (which is true) is a heck of a lot more compelling than "I couldn't get in shape" (lack of commitment), or "I couldn't find the time" (lack of commitment), or "I lost the lottery" (a double lie: I didn't enter so I couldn't lose!).

A question about something like "Ride the Rockies", however, is one thing. A question about a larger moral/ethical commitment is something else. Faced with a conflict between speaking up about injustice (when it may be unpopular to do so) or giving witness to values based on religious belief (which may be equally unpopular, if not just uncomfortable) may end up coming out like "I just don't believe it's right". It may be true, but where's the big "YES" to that ultimate commitment that may help the other person(s) understand who we really are?

It was popular some years ago to ask "Well, you can talk the talk, but can you walk the walk?" I have begun to wonder how much I simply "walk the walk", but, by not "talking the talk", avoid showing where my commitments are grounded ,e.g., "As a disciple of Jesus, I . . ." or equally, "As a Buddhist, I . . ." or "In submission to Allah, I . . .". I wonder what kinds of interesting conversations I've missed?

Blessings,

Gary