My Bike, My Ocean

Once again, I have started riding my bike in the great outdoors.

For a couple years, I rode about 20 miles a day to and from work. My rides were through the woods and along paved paths, and I loved them. I had the best biking partner anyone could ask for, and we went from being perfect strangers to good friends over the course of time as we took our daily rides together. Cold winter mornings were quiet, and had a beauty that was about as peaceful as I could imagine sitting on the moon to be. But, it was the summer mornings that I loved the best. We would head in just after 5:00am, as the sun was rising, and the air was moist and warm. It wasn't soupy and hot yet, and the bugs were still asleep. At the very end of the ride into work, there was this killer hill that we had to conquer. It was brutal, and I remember one or both of us joking, "Kill the hill!" as we powered our way up.
As we reached the top of the hill, we could see the final glory of the sunrise over the city. The buildings were dwarfed and silhouetted by a magnificent sky. I'll never forget those days.

Out here, I haven't known where to bike or when. Just last week, I put my bike back together and began morning rides along the beach paths.  My morning rides turned into morning and afternoon rides; I am, again, addicted. With the ocean on one side and the mountains on the other, I ride over 10 miles in either direction, experiencing a catharsis I have yet to be able to describe with words. As I ride south, I watch the sunrise over the mountains. As I ride north, I see the lights of a beach city in the distance, and watch the moon begin to fade above the backdrop of the great Pacific. The smell of the ocean air centers me, and causes me to breathe deeper and more slowly, so I won't miss a single wave. I have thought to stop and take pictures, but each time I consider it, I decide to keep the beauty to myself. Selfish, I know.
There is something sacred about the beach and the ocean; the sunrise and sunsets on warm mornings and nights. As I bike along the ocean, I feel a peace that comes with the spirituality of the soul and the ocean co-mingling, as if they are slow dancing. Sometimes I listen to the ocean, and sometimes I bike to the soundtrack of whatever hard rock seems to fit my mood that day. Either way, the moments are never cheapened. They can't be. There isn't a moment on the beach that can be cheapened when the spirit and the soul are dancing with the ocean.

Once again, nature is my saving grace, and my bike is the perfect mode of transportation.  Instead of riding through the woods, I am at the beach. I never would have imagined writing that sentence.

On one morning ride this week, John Mayer's "3x5" came on my ipod. Yes, I know that I am partial to John Mayer and his music. In a recent, deeply philosophical discussion, I admitted without a doubt that I will still marry him even if he had a glass eye. But that's not the point here...

the point is that John Mayer had it right with that song.

"You should have seen that sunrise with your own eyes. It brought me back to life..."