Then There Is

After the early class, another grande cuppa joe and a quick kit change, I was back on the Honda riding in the drizzle. I am putting the final pieces together on the class profile and somehow the ancient Zen adage pops into my mind as vivid as Kilimanjaro or Fuji. 

First there is a mountain,
Then there is no mountain.
Then there is. 

Once upon a time I used that cosmology as the basis for an entire quarter as metaphor for our approach to indoor cycling. To me, my interpretation has always been simple:

You see the challenge as impossible,

You take ONE STEP towards it,

And the journey begins. 

Or,

You see challenge, hardship an insurmountable goal as unobtainable,

Something changes your bias and you reconsider,

You make the courageous decision to act.

Or,

I could never do that,

I tried,

I did. 

Or,

First there is fear,

Fear is faced,

Another fear takes its place.

Or,

First there is doubt, trauma and bad luck,

They change when accepted as ‘life’

Then there is less doubt, more flow and good karma.

I am smiling in the saddle as I crest a hill, happy to have rhetorically juxtaposed something classically timeless into a theme for the class. There are so many interpretations to this, one could riff on its beautiful theme for an hour, so I celebrate the tiny artistic victory by taking both hands off the handlebars and clapping like an Italian football fan, ala tifosi. I must have looked like a loon. Who claps with happiness in the rain?

Over the hill on the back side descent a cobalt SUV passes at the precise moment that I spot a patrol car hiding in the bushes of a driveway opposite. Instantly I regrip the handles and look at the speedometer, which I cannot read because of raindrops. I see the officer pull from his cover and turn in my direction, lights on.

First there is a mountain.