Warning: this one may be a little out of left field to regular readers
The boy didn’t ask questions. He hopped on his bike and followed his nose. It inevitably led him to getting lost, but that was the point, even if he didn’t know it at the time. These adventures, care-free and self-propelled, were priceless, personal victories whose value was yet to reveal itself.
As the boy grew older he started posing those questions. He searched Eastern religions and Western philosophies for answers and found a few along the way. He fell in and out of love and had his ups and downs. He looked for meaning in travel and work and books and friends. Then one day he hopped on his bike again for a very long ride through the desert. He followed the only road there was through a land so desolate it was impossible not to turn inwards. All day, every day, there was only the repetition of his pedal strokes, the monotony of the harsh, unchanging terrain, and the burn in his legs. It would have been easy to fool himself that he was actually going nowhere, but his efforts slowly gave back to him in intangible ways and he discovered again the value he couldn’t quite manage to identify.
It’s many years later and the man has stopped asking the questions. He now hops on his bike each day and rides hard and strong. He has purpose, goals, and sometimes even a plan. He rides for many reasons now: to make a living, to stay healthy, to stave off illness, to challenge himself and to discover his limits. But he really rides because he understands that, for him, the value is in the ride, and the answers will come if he just keeps pedaling.
8 thoughts on “Value”
Not out of left field at all, Gerry. Found a bit of myself in there.
Nice post, I think many others will relate, myself included. My love affair with cycling began with a long distance tour of exotic lands, well, France.
The ride was amazing and cycling great yet it was the time alone, the space to think that I fell in love with, the riding itself was a bonus!
I think it’s a package deal when you’re doing some solo and self-propelled. And don’t worry, I still find France ‘exotic’ from time to time after all these years!
Looks like the start (and end) of a novel. You just have to fill the middle bit.
I’ve often been tempted to write a book. I think I could manage a chapter, as long as it had 3 paragraphs in it.
One part at a time, one day at a time, we can accomplish anything. Keep writing!
Thanks, Brenda. I’ll be back to my normal drivel soon, I promise!