Going to Church...

Well, not really. I went to my church tonight, the church of the bike. I cannot take credit for the church of the bike line. I read it on a friend of a friends blog, but it struck home.

My bike and time on the road is my church. I find that every issue, every struggle and every difficult situation fade when I am grinding out the miles.

I have not ridden as much as I did last year this season. I am still averaging about 50 miles a week, but no where near the 100 a week I did last season. Marathon training destroyed my climbing legs, so I have not ventured over to visit that BEAWTCH in Stillwater called Mrytle. And that other Son of a BEAWTCH named Chillykoot. I will get there before the snow flies, but my big engine prefers to climb the hills in the cold weather!!!! Still hard work, but I need not fear overheating.

I work with a lady name Liz, who lives about two miles from me. She has been asking me to go on a ride with her and show her the local bike trails. So tonight, we went for a ride. Liz did amazing hammering out nine to nine and a half miles. She really seemed to enjoy the trip. I dropped her off at her house, and then figured that I better get home as I had not eaten dinner yet and it was getting on toward 20:00 CDT. I figured I could hammer out the 2.1 miles in about 10 to 15 minutes.

By the time I got back to a mile from home, I had a decision to make... Go home and get something to eat or (insert eyebrow wiggle here), Go around the lake and add about five more miles to my ride pretty much wide open.... HMMMMMM, Decisions, Decisions. This is not a hard one to work out. Of course I added the distance. The light turned green and off I went. Cranking the pedal arms and up shifting until I had 21 miles an hour and Mr. Endorphin-Rush came a calling. Get to the next light 1.5 miles up the road down shift, make my right turn and oh boy there is a rabbit out in front of me.

A rabbit in my vernacular is another cyclist that has no idea he is now the target of my obsession. This is someone for me to catch and try to pass. I haul this poor son of a gun in over the next quarter mile and pass him on a hill. At about this time, my heart rate monitor is reading 162 beats a minute. Time to reel this rodeo in and settle it back down to zone 3 and closer to 2. 160 beats a minute is my anaerobic threshold. This is where I start burning sugar instead of fat. So, I let off my pedals and enjoy the coast to my next right turn.

Turn completed. Oh boy, another rabbit!!! Up shift and hammer out 23 miles an hour over the next quarter to half mile. This rabbit is a little faster than the last. Fly by this one and then the old ticker is tapping out 165 BPM. Time to enjoy all the stored energy in my tires. Another right turn, and long coast around a sweeping left. Bet you were starting to think this was a backwards Nascar race; ride hard turn right! One more mile to home.

I pull in the drive way only completing 16 miles, but loving ever revolution of the tires. Put up the garage door store the thoroughbred in the garage, and walk in the house to find out it is only 19:30 CDT. Whoa Hooo still time to go catch a grown up beverage at the Daddy Pop Shop.

Open my reward, sit down and write my thoughts from church down. Maybe beer is not part of the sacrament, but all my sins were washed away on the road. All my worries are gone for the night. I'm all smiles and happy to be on this crazy marble called Earth.

Find your church. Visit your church often. Enjoy the heck out of it. Live, Love, and Laugh with all your heart. Nothing can be wrong with that.