Free Love

"What's gonna set you free?
Look inside and you'll see
When you've got so much to say
It's called gratitude, and that's right."

--The Beastie Boys, "Gratitude."

This afternoon, taking advantage of the chilly but dry and sunny weather, I did something that had been on my mind for a while: I washed two (out of three) of my bikes. As I was detailing Sugar and Cadel, passersby commented on what I was doing.

"Wow, you must really love your bikes."

"That's a labor of love."

"You show your bikes a lot more love than I do!"

I smiled and said something friendly back, generally about how I ride them a lot and they get dirty. I scrubbed at the cassettes, washed frames and brakes, and removed greasy specks with my secret weapon (Mr. clean Magic Eraser! Works like a charm!). I contemplated this notion:

Do I love my bikes?

It didn't take me long to arrive at the conclusion that I don't love the machines themselves. Sure, I name them (Bella, Sugar, and Cadel are the current fleet; past members included Candy, Ruby, and Tuesday). I wash them. I tune them and replace their parts and try to take care of them. These are acts of operations and maintenance. Are they acts of love?

Certainly, I don't feel about my bikes the way I feel about people. I don't "love" my bikes the way I love my family and friends. Scrubbing a cassette isn't like cooking a meal with my sister, or painting with water colors with my nephew. Greasing a chain isn't like chatting with my mom, or texting with Pam, or meeting Christy for dinner.

So, why do I "love all over my bikes" (as Kim would say)?

I value greatly the experiences and friendships that have come to me through cycling. I value the weekends at Deep Creek and the mutual suffering of roads named Sugarlands, Limestone, Bowman, Miller, and the climb to Wisp. I value pit stops in Poolesville with Olwen... and all the Doritos. I value the camaraderie of a perfectly executed double pace line at Asilomar Beach. I value Martha chasing after me on that darned QRoo as I gazelled up the hills at Sea Otter on Miss Sugar... and now that she has a real road bike, I love her for chasing after me to come ride with her in Utah. I cherish getting lost with Pam in West Virginia. I can't live without being deafened by cicadas with Olwen on our Skyline Century. And the barbecue potato chips that saved my life. I need to chase Scottie's jorts in Colorado. And I love his "computer" that reads "BAMF" at all times (and altitudes). Lest Kim be left out, I will say just this: Pinkypants. Cruising the course in San Diego with Andrea. Riding Sean's wheel like a pro on the P-loop. Breaking 50 mph with those 4 random dudes from Georgia. Crushing technical descents in Marin and likening it to skiing. Sunrise on Spanish Bay. Finding Jan and Cath, then Doug, Elizabeth, Kathy, And Sheri in Monterey...

The things I've seen, the places I've been, and the friendships I've made--because of the bikes--have changed my life.

I don't talk about it much, but here it is: when I ride, I pray. I didn't know I was doing it at first. Once, on one of my first really long rides, I was admiring the rolling hills and countryside in Montgomery County and I realized that I'd been talking to God for a while. I was singing a children's hymn, "Thank You, Lord," in my head. It was like it was playing in the background and suddenly the volume got louder and louder as I rode on. As I climb a hill, I thank God for giving me the strength to make it up. When I see a beautiful landscape, I thank God for putting me in that place at that moment so I could see it. I thank Him for giving me the opportunity to spend time outside in beautiful places with beautiful people. I thank Him for keeping us all safe. I call riding my "gratitude time."

In the past several years of life's twists and turns, I confess my faith has often been shaken. When things seem most confused, I can shove snacks and cash in my jersey pockets, fill the water bottles, jump on the machine and know that somewhere out there, the volume will start to increase, and the gratitude will take over. Whatever the plan is: thank you, Lord, for giving me life. Right where I am.

I've been struggling to find my path lately. Rather than dwell, though, I have been riding a lot, finding lots of gratitude and having some good chats with The Big Guy.

So. The bikes. Do I love them?

Sure, in a way. Goodness knows we spend a lot of time together. They are the instruments of some serious joy. Of course, when they wear out or break down (or if I win the Mega Millions), they could be swapped out for new instruments. I certainly don't feel that way about my friends!

I love the life that the bikes have enabled, and I will show those machines my gratitude and LOVE with a bath every now and then, yes.

Thanks, bikes.

More thanks: friends!