Homemade Biking Party
“Hold up Dad. I’ve got 40 wedgies.”
-Mae
Post Sugarbench ‘23. Monday happened all at once this week. I eased into my rainy Northway commute, with two sore hamstrings, a too many ‘tacos & donuts’ hangover and the gravelly memory of the chunks brook descent still on my mind. The Toyota swerving in front of me had a bumper sticker that read, "We don't brake for anyone." so I kept an extra lane between us. Turning onto Clayton Avenue, Mae points out the car window at a 5th grader riding to school though the cold drizzle. I ease past the rider and notice something familiar. Past the grimace, past the rain-splashed glasses and rooster-tailed windbreaker. Past the torn backpack and the nearly flat rear tire, there's the slightest hint of a smile. His eyes locked straight ahead. The kind of smile you make when small rock bits are coming off the wheel ahead of you and you don't want to chip a tooth. The kind of smile that sometimes comes from a stream successfully crossed, a bunny-hopped branch or a ridiculous uphill gradient.
This year's ride was extra special for me. Extra special for all the usual reasons. I dig spending time on bikes with good people and relish the unfiltered excitement that comes from going on an actual adventure. I like being a helper and having a project to work on. What I wasn't expecting this year was the overwhelming feeling of being inspired by so many others. Seeing people cheer and encourage others and watching others dig deep on the courses was amazing. I saw people take on challenges that seemed insurmountable and come out laughing. I think this year, the spirit of the event began to show itself more. It became more evident than ever that it's not every person for themselves. It's not a race against the clock but rather a puzzle to be solved, a landscape to be understood and respected. It all happens in a natural space where it sometimes takes more than digging deep to get home. It takes more than four scoops of sugary mix. Sometimes it takes an arm over the shoulder or a pat on the back, a bottle gifted or draft shared. I saw that generosity time and again.
So as we head full blast into fall, I don't say thanks simply for showing up to this wonky, homemade biking party. I don't say thanks for having a fancy ride or being really fast or wearing cool kit. I say thanks for reminding me of the simple joy of rooting for others to do well. For reminding me of the sometimes hidden courage needed to go on an uncertain adventure. And finally for those huge chocolate peanut butter cookies, because, well damn.
木漏れ日,
Andy
