Why I Ride

Somewhere between the Airport and the Marina


I pulled my jeep into one of my usual parking spots. I'm heading out on one of my favorite rides - Airport to Marina. There are a lot of reasons I like this ride; the starting point is close to my house, it's open and flat, so I can work on sprints and increasing my speed, and the scenery changes all along the way.

"Just heading out?" the man in the car next to me asks, watching me pull on my gloves and tighten my helmet.

"Yep" I reply, hoping he'll take the hint. I don't want to talk to him. I want to ride.

"Looks like rain" he warns, eyeing the ominous clouds and looking at me like I might be a little nuts.

"Yep" I reply, checking my brakes and tires one more time.

"Why are you doing this?" He finally asks me. And then the inevitable comment, the one I knew he was waiting to throw out. "It's Saturday evening. You're a pretty girl..." He lets it trail off and waits expectantly, like I am going to put my bike back on the rack and reconsider my evening plans after his observations.

"Yep," I reply. I clip in and I take off. Thanks for your opinion, buddy, but it's my time.

As I start off on my planned 32 mile ride, his words are echoing in my head. "Why are you doing this?" Why am I doing this? After about half a mile, I start to apply some speed. I feel my muscles start to get warm, my quads start to burn. Ah, I love that feeling. The feeling that they have been worked and worked hard not too long ago, but they're ready for what I'm going to throw at them. My breath starts to come harder and faster, my lungs begin to settle into steady breathing. My body is already responding to the challenge. I think to myself "oh yeah. This is why i'm doing this."

I like riding through the airport. It reminds me of my time in the Air Force. The aircraft and the flightlines and the control tower are symbols of a time that meant a lot to me, that taught me many lessons. I let my mind run over the places, the people, and the experiences I was lucky enough to gain through my military service as I push myself through this area. As I ride, I think of some friends I have who are now serving in Iraq, one in particular. He's a biker, too. I send good vibes to him and to all those serving as I pedal through an underground tunnel. "Aaron, when you get back, we are riding this path together" I tell him this, out loud. This gets some weird looks from the guy who just passed me, but I don't care. (And Aaron, we WILL ride together soon.)

My body and my bike respond together as the miles tick off on my monitor, and the airport gives way to a business park. This is my least favorite part of the ride, but it's not too bad. I like the streetnames. Amelia Earheart Drive. Charles Lindenbergh Way. There is a ford Mustang that is always parked in front of the Shell station with a vanity plate that says "heybabe". I don't know why, but this always makes me smile. The gas station attendant always waves at me. This makes me smile, too.

The business park gives way to a frontage road that borders i-80. I love this part of the ride. I am working on my speed, so I do some sprint drills. From sign to sign, I sprint, then I slow down. I sprint, then I slow down. I do this for about 3 miles and this leaves my legs burning, my chest heaving, but still, I feel good. I feel alive and I take this time to marvel at the amazing creation that our physical selves are. I can run, I can jump, I can bike, I can dance. My body has grown a child. I think about these things and I think again "oh yeah, that's why I ride".

By now, I'm moving quickly, trying to keep the speed up as I race along the frontage road. I'm not full out sprinting, but i'm really close. I feel my lungs open up a little bit more, I feel my quads push a bit harder, and I feel something shift in me. I'm out of my own head and into my body fully now. An unconnected part of my brain watches the miles tick by on the monitor, watches the familiar scenery pass by my eyes, but I'm totally on autopilot, pushing myself as hard as I can. I race like this for quite a while, in competition only with myself, but feeling like I'm winning anyway. After a while, something clicks and I realize that I'm approaching the halfway mark of todays destination. I slow down, enjoy the quirkiness of Saltair as it comes into closer view and I marvel at how much speed I was able to put on and how long I was able to maintain it. Oh yeah, this is why I ride.

At the marina, my halfway point, I ride out to the edge and watch the sailboats as they return home. I love the water, I love boats, but I'm not here to admire them. I'm here because I'm working on my own goals, building my own cathedrals (thanks, other Amy xxox) and I need to get back on the road.

The ride back is usually easier, but the wind turned on me and instead I find myelf fighting a strong, steady headwind. My already tired muscles protest this change of plans, but they are loyal and they give up the complaints soon enough and keep working. They ache, I'm tired and this is suppposed to be the easier part of the ride. To keep my mind occupied, I start to do one of my favorite mental exercises...I start to list the things i'm grateful for. And to add a little spice to my ride, I decide to think about each thing for the space of half a mile. I begin, of course, with my daughter and the half mile is filled with her smile, laughter and funny little words. Next comes my sister, which leads into thoughts about her twins and husband. My mom, my aunts, my grandma, my dad are all juxtaposed with thoughts of gratitude directed towards my friends, the person who invented floor cleaner that gets out baby puke, and my deep and unwavering gratitude for the person who convinced me to try road biking (Candace, I so love you). This little mind game does what it always does for me: the miles fly by, i feel peaceful and blessed and very loved and before I can even get through a minor portion of my gratitude list, I realize I am almost back to my jeep, and in the distance that has passed, I have found miles of peace.

Oh, yeah. This is why I ride.

I finish up the ride with muscles burning and I know I'll be feeling them for a while. It was a tough one, because of the distance, the strenuous speed drills and fighting the wind most of the ride. But my mind feels clearer, my body is tired and I know that rest will comes easily tonight.

As I load up my bike, I am feeling calm, mellow and a little sleepy. The threatened rainstorm never did appear and I am happy to have been out in the mountain air for a while tonight. I pull out and just as I am pulling up to a traffic light, I look to the truck next to me. The driver also has his riding gloves still on and he glances at me and takes in my helmet-mussed hair and my bike on the rack on the back of my car. I can see the smudge of grit around his face where his glasses were, and I know I have an identical one on my face, too. He smiles at me, and I smile back.

"Hell of a night for a ride," he comments through our open windows. "You look like you took on the whole 32. Even with that headwind, you can't beat that."

"Yep, I did," I say, and smile. "I'm tired."

"Well, that's why we ride," he says as the light turns green.

Couldn't have said it better myself.