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Monday, May 7, 2012

Bike in Balance: Being a Good Person [Bicycling]


By Mike Magnuson
Sometime last week—I forget which ride it was because all my rides these days seem to blur into one endless ride in a countryside as indistinct to me as onepedal stroke is to the next—I rolled to a stop at the crest of this ridge east of Stockbridge, Wisconsin, and I did what blurry-minded cyclists often do when they crest a ridge overlooking Stockbridge: I took stock.
Who was I that I rolled each afternoon so far away from home, with no destination in mind, only a vague hope of finding a convenience store with a friendly person behind the counter who won’t say to me, on a 48-degree windy day, “Looks like a nice day for a ride?”
Who was I that I believed this life, training hours on end—not but because I will ever win anything but because I want to be strong enough to keep training hours on end, for years on end—has rewards anybody but cyclists can understand?
I searched my mind for an answer and found, not surprisingly, a line from a poem lodged in the upper part of my brain, near where my bike helmet has fused permanently to my skull.

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