Fires. Floods. Disease. Daily barrages of bad news. It’s heavy, and it’s wearing on us. It’s wearing on me. My bike rides are my path forward to the change I want to see; my prayer to my Maker to help me continue to trust the journey; and my time to plan so that I can actually be effective in a world in need (rather than just spinning my wheels). They are necessary to me, and it’s a rare day that I don’t ride at least a mile.
So yesterday in the pouring rain I tossed on my poncho and zoomed around 10 miles of suddenly-available multiuse paths that were completely empty except for Magic and me. I tore through puddles, legs up and laughing, breathing in the heady fragrance of muscadines hanging heavy above me and littering the ground.
Today and tomorrow I’ll be Zooming online at the Georgia Bike Summit, where I’ll most likely be restless because it’s hard for me to sit still but I know it’s important to bear witness, to be involved beyond the saddle, and to learn from others who are doing so much heavy lifting as well. It’s free — why not join me?
My letters of endorsement to become the first Metro Atlanta Bicycle Mayor are already coming in (thank you). Lots of other things are happening as well in other areas of triple-bottom-line sustainability in which I’m involved. Maintaining some sense of positive attitude is still my daily goal even as the world implodes, and it will, I believe, help me stay motivated (and maybe encourage others as well) at a time when we are all needed.
And so, as the outer rings of Hurricane Sally cascade seemingly without end across the land I steward in the place I currently call home, nourishing it with its nitrogen, I am reminded once again that the seeds we plant — of food, and food-for-thought while Traveling at the Speed of Bike — do eventually grow.
Traveling at the Speed of Bike 