I like to ride my bikes (one at a time). I have one bike that I use for commuting to and from work (for the bike geeks: a 2004 LeMond Wayzata -- steel frame, straight handlebars, great for riding in all kinds of weather including snow), and another bike that I use for riding long distances on weekends (geek info: a LeMond custom titanium frame originally built for racer, Scott Moninger).
All-in-all, I ride about 200 miles a week. I rarely get in the car unless the family is going somewhere. And I don't miss the car. Not one bit. If I never had to drive again, I'd be a happy man.
I love the exercise. I used to not ride as much as I do now, but I started putting on weight and I thought I could lose the extra pounds by upping my weekly mileage. And I have. I've lost about 25 pounds since last October and am now back to the weight I was in college when I played rugby and hockey. Feels nice to be in shape.
But here's the best part of riding a bicycle 200 miles a week: it allows me time to think.
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Every weekday morning, I enjoy nearly an hour of private time on my bike. Most of my commute is on Chicago's beautiful lakefront bike path and path traffic is light in the morning. I can ride fast or take my time (depending on what's going on at the office), but my trip's primary benefit is that I have time to think.
"Time to think" has become an increasingly rare commodity in America. (My business is communicating/marketing/advertising and we operate on the assumption that the most precious commodity to most Americans these days is time.)
There is no question that technology has encroached upon our private time... E-mail and the web are accessible -- and make us accessible -- almost anywhere now. Nevermind the ubiquitous cell phone (the real enemy to an urban cyclist who must constantly be alert for distracted drivers).
I think about work... What needs to be done. How to solve a client's problem. How to drum up more business.
I think about my family... How can we ease the pressure on our high school junior who is working her tail off academically, and still trying to do all the things she loves to do, all with an eye on choosing a college. (The pressures are enormous on kids these days -- far more pressure than I ever faced at that age.) My wife and I need more time together, just the two of us. I try to figure out ways we can spend time together as a family, knowing just how busy we all are. I think about my own parents and ways to spend more time with them as they near 80. Time is fleeting and regret is not something I want to feel.
I think about life... How is that I'm almost 50? Am I being the best father to my kids? The best husband to my wife? Why do the Cubs suck nearly every year? (I am beginning to believe that being a lifelong Cubs fan has been a collosal mistake.)
All these thoughts, sometimes firing randomly, sometimes ordered, structured, resolved. Time to think.
It is a luxury, really. I'm not religious. I don't meditate. But I cycle. I feel lucky that I am able to do it just about everyday.
I would love to say that I ride to help the environment. That may be a benefit, but it is not my motivation.
On the way home from work, I can unwind. I think about the day and what transpired. Sometimes I race with other commuters, barreling along the path and working up a great sweat.
Often in the winter, I am completely alone along the lake, watching the ice bobbing in the water. Lake Michigan in winter can be even more beautiful than it is in the summer.
I wrote this because I wanted to take a moment to think about thinking. To ponder how important having time to think is to making the most of our lives.
It is odd and a bit sad to realize that I am now surprised when I hear someone on TV or radio actually being thoughtful -- "thoughtful" in the sense that this person has obviously spent some time thinking about what he or she is saying. (Books are much better at conveying thoughtfulness.)
I hope you find time to think today.
I am off to ride to work now. About an hour all to myself.
You may be jealous. I promise I'll spend a few minutes of the ride thinking of you.