 Back in the Body
My bicycle - a circa 1984 Serotta Nova - is back on the road after a 12-year hiatus.
I suppose that means that I'm back on the road, too...
New
wheels and tires were a gift from Cai and Danielle for Father's Day. I
picked up clip-less pedals and shoes during our recent vacation at the
Jersey Shore - with a happy nod to the very cool family discount my
sister in-law, Janine, receives through her shop...
While some
may think that all this bicycle stuff isn't particularly worth getting
excited about, I've got to let you know that the day after putting on
the wheels, I found myself so excited about getting on the road again
that I was, quite literally, shaking.
I felt like I was returning to a strange, yet intimately familiar land...
Would
it be the same as I remembered? Could I still spin the pedals like I
did a dozen years ago? Would I be freaked and squirrelly having cars
buzz by on country roads? Would I discover that I was the one guy in
the world for whom riding a bike wouldn't be "just like riding a
bike..?"
After fumbling around with the new pedal system,
slipping my cleats on and off my pedals several times and wobbling at
low speeds while getting used to clicking in and bailing out, I was off
and rolling...
Somehow my body remembered everything it needed
to know about balance and movement on a bicycle. All I had to think
about was where I wanted to go. I was amazed at how easy it was!
I
pulled into my driveway almost an hour after taking off, dripping with
sweat and wearing a toothy grin on my face. Sure, I'd be saddle-sore
next morning. I'd probably walk a little funny for the next couple of
hours - as the blood in my legs figured out where it needed to go next.
I didn't really care.
I was feeling good!
I'd just
experienced sensations I hadn't felt in over a decade. Even though I'd
been on a few rides with Janine and my brother in-law, Marc, when we
were still living in New Jersey, something was different. I can't place
it exactly, and my sense is that it had to do with a combination of
solitude, location, the smell of the air, and the fact that I'm a few
years older.
Truth be told, I felt like a little kid...
Part
of the thrill was the rediscovery of the joy of zipping over the ground
at high-speed - a feeling that I have in abundance during the ski
season - not so when there isn't snow on the ground...
What
really came home for me was the sense of being completely alive "in my
body." I'm not one hundred percent sure, but my intuition tells me that
that feeling - when every part of me is feeling intensely alive -
that's the little kid connection. Paradoxically, I think there's also
something remarkably grown-up about that embodied sense. While I found
it by going outside and playing, the sensation brought me to a place
that is thrilling and remarkably centered at the same time...
It
seems strange to know that, having forgotten for a while, the
possibility remains that I could forget about what being in my body
feels like. For instance, when I've been traveling, it's not unusual
for me to take a couple of days to feel as if I'm truly back home
again. My mind knows that I'm back, but my body isn't quite sure what's
happened. (or maybe it's the other way around!) I'm beginning to
understand what teachers of Yoga and martial arts really mean when they
speak of "practice."
Richard Strozzi Heckler, a teacher of
aikido, bodywork and somatic coaching, writes in <u>Holding the
Center</u>: "When I refer to the body I am referring to the shape
of our experience." he goes on to say, "Feeling the life in our body as
it appears in sensation is the beginning of embodiment. When we do this
we are attending to life in a fundamental way. It's an extraordinarily
simple and yet exceedingly rich experience..."
You'd think
that "being in the body" is just as natural as breathing. To some
extent, I it is - but only as much as... say, going to bed when you're
tired, eating when you're hungry or drinking when you're thirsty.
...Without first rationalizing the laundry list of all the things that,
in that moment, are more important than caring for one's self.
I've
watched my son run around at high-speed when he's tired. I've seen him
do anything but eat when he's hungry. Every parent I know has had the
experience of dealing with an overly tired child who, instead of
settling down and sleeping, goes into a sort of a crazed hyper-warp
drive.
What is it with us human beings? At what stage do we
take it upon ourselves to over-ride our own built-in systems? When does
the to-do list begin to trump the I-am list? What's the long term cost
of operating on a tank that's been pegged at "E" for hours - or days?
When
do we begin to believe that forcing our bodies to sit quietly when they
are screaming "move me" is sound, sustainable policy?
Oy!
I don't have the answers, but I do have those new wheels and some spiffy new silver cycling shoes...
It
feels important, at this tender age, to develop a bit of awareness
around how I go about caring for myself. I want to be around to watch
Cai grow. I want to know that, by the time he's old enough to truly
realize how little I know, we'll be able to laugh about it (loudly) Man
to Man.
The road is waiting. I gotta go...
About the Author
Ken
Mossman PCC, CPCC, is a business and personal coach who specializes
working with fathers and "creative cliff-jumpers," men and women with
creative dreams that just won't quit. Ken's coaching style is lively,
fun, challenging, full of humor and shamelessly irreverent. To contact
Ken or learn more, visit: http://www.cirruscoaching.com.
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