Today was to be a book-writing day so only photos for the blog, and maybe a bike ride map and stats from Strava and short map video from Relive. As you might deduce, that didn’t happen. I got my walk and yoga in, but not the writing. Then my doctor’s appointment took three hours instead of one, most of it waiting. I was not a very patient patient. Continue reading
“The goal of practice is always to keep our beginner’s mind.”
–Shunryu Suzuki, Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind: Informal Talk on Zen Meditation and Practice
A Dude Abikes began this blog in 2016 as an experiment in writing about his biking. For the first two years, he focused mostly on all the biking, not so much on the smithing of the words. As 2018 unfolds, he has resolved to write daily for a month and then regularly after that. It’s clear there is still quite alot to be learned about the art, craft, science and je ne sais quois about web logs.
Today’s blog is a writing exercise. A Dude wants to see if he can write 500 words in 30 minutes. He can tend to be long-winded, and while that may appeal to some readers, it may dissuade others. Since I intend to write daily for some period, perhaps even the whole of January, it behooves me to be brief.
It’s refreshing to hear from people who read my blog recently. One is a fellow cyclist who bikes in the winter — in Finland! Thank you all! This blog was intended to be an experiment, and I have a lot to learn about doing it well. New Year resolutions being what they are – much sound and fury signifying nothing – I’m not making many hard and fast rules for myself right now. Continue reading
It’s early morning on a cloudy Sunday in the Hill Country town of Dripping Springs, Texas. Fifty cyclists trickle into the empty school parking lot slowly, as if arriving at a wake. They spill out of Subarus and Priuses (Prii, my high school Latin teacher’s voice echoes from the past), weird clowns in brightly colored costumes, but tight and made of Spandex, shoes not floppy, clicking on the ground. Aliens looking down would be perplexed by this bizarre parade. Their faces still show signs of sleep, coffee tumblers clutched closely in hands that would soon be covered in fingerless gloves. There was banter and hugging friends, and talk about the chance of rain, while mentally they were each preparing themselves for 22 or 44 miles of relentless pedaling up and down country roads.
The Hill Country Ride for AIDS “Joy Ride”, they call their training outings. But underneath the frivolity and anticipation of just another weekend sporting event being replicated around the world, an air of solemnity hung over this group. Despite my staunch atheism I can’t help but shake an eerie feeling. It’s as if the ghosts of people lost to that damn fucking virus — so many lives lost, and still without a cure — are also gathered in that parking lot with us. Brothers, sisters, lovers, husbands, wives, partners, mothers, sons and daughters. They were there, watching and waiting, their energy drawn to the event, simply by virtue of being remembered. I imagine a silently cheer emanates from the ghosts of HIV victims past, urging the living riders to go on in their names. Continue reading
A Dude Abikes 