perhaps spiritual rides I've had in a while. This
summer marks my 25th year of actively riding bicycles.
Over the years I've taken in a lot of people to teach
to ride and coach as 'bicyclists' up to full out
'racers'.
The two women I rode with are both under my wing as
serious riders. Interestingly at the beginning of the
season as friends they came to me each with
addictions. One's alcoholism had taken over again in a
fury. The other had taken up smoking once more over
the winter. The side story is they both had recently
ended relationships with their ex-husbands/boyfriends
and faced the fact they were closeted lesbians who
were ready to explore their first relationship.
They each sought me out separately this spring to train them to
ride. What I found is they also needed someone to
listen. After a bit of soul searching, deep digging,
and friendly advice, one went into treatment, the other
moved in here for three weeks while starting out
on the patch. She also asked to give up complete
control to me in order to giveup the smoking.
I knew she needed to be distracted
while she got past the hump.
I gave her a huge distraction. This house had the
best spring cleaning it has ever had. The first came
out of treatment sober, the second moved back home. I
suggested they get together for rides and kayaking.
Soon after that I was on the road racing,
traveling, and dealing with my work.
Tonight was the first time I've seen them in 8 weeks.
I checked in about the smoking and drinking, all was
good. But there was something else in the air.
Now let me tell you about the 3 hour ride. We started
out around 6:30 leaving Rutland to head south and up
into the hills of Tinmouth, 7 miles of climbing
pavement and dirt. I knew it was going to be a
Liz-venture ride because we'd be riding home in the
dark. We typically have flashing lights on the back.
There is a point after an hour or so of riding where
the body's endorphins kick in to create a bit of a
meditative high. Topping that off while we were riding
these road bikes up a long tree lined dirt road two
beautiful deer ran across in front of us, a third ran
along side of us. We climbed a stretch which opened
suddenly up into a 50 mile view of Tinmouth Valley,
Danby Mountain, Dorset Mountain and Stratton in the
distance, just as the sun was setting.
We kept climbing and climbing up more dirt roads. At
the peak of the climbs the sun had set, the light was
diminished, we put on vests and sleeves, turned the
bikes downhill, letting loose. The first downhill
section was completely canopied and dark. The woman in
the back said watching the flashing lights floating
ahead of her in complete darkness at speed was like
being on a wild 'trip'.
There was one mile long climb between there and the 14
miles we had left to ride to get home. While two of us
were side by side intuitively I asked, "so tell me
about the two of you hooking up?" The giggles started
and all she said was "Thank you Liz for putting the
two of us together."
I had a hope for them both the first time I suggested
the smoker call the drinker to talk. Though they were
strangers to each other, I knew they could relate and
be supportive on so many levels. Later on the ride when
I asked the shy one, "tell me about you both being together"
she stuttered and stammered, but said "Liz you are incredibly
special to us both."
The rest of the ride was in the dark, no headlights.
I've often been asked what bicycle riding is all about
to me. I explain the connection I feel with the bike.
There is a point where the bicycle is a part of me. I
know when a muscle is sore, hear a gear skipping, sense a
soft tire, and feel the road through my bottom, hands and feet.
Last night without the aid of headlights, the three of
us were riding our way home through the feel of the
bikes. We rode as fast on the way back, blind, as we
had earlier on the way out. We were within inches of
each other totally trusting the other and letting our
bodies meld into the bikes and sense the road to get
us home safely.
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