The Weekly Plunder: Week 10 - Tiny Moments
Late on Friday I ventured to a small bicycle shop in Central West End in search of a solid gravel bike (I’m glad to say I found what I was looking for). The shop was small and the staff’s vibe was laid back and personable. In other words, it was my kind of shop.
As the sun set and the outside winds howled, I found myself talking for awhile with one of the employees, a 48-year-old former bike messenger, about life in general, about our injuries, our triumphs, and our failures. We shared a beer as the store neared closing. It was a moment I greatly appreciated.
“One thing I love about cycling is that you see the world differently,” he said at one point. I was about 3/4 through my Urban Chestnut brew.
“Yeah, you see the worst of humanity.”
”People, yes. You see the ugliness in people. But also, beauty. Not always beauty in people, but beauty in nature. You see nature.”
I thought about bikepacking on Skyline Drive, thousands of feet up in the Blue Ridge Mountains. I remembered the sun cresting along the horizon to my left and a view of the country, vast and green and endless, thousands of feet below. Deer grazing in a patch of grass to my right. An owl swooping overhead as the trees cast their long shadows over me and my friend pedaled ahead. Time slowing down, every mile feeling like a year. In that moment of utter exhaustion, I was truly free.
In that moment I understood time and my relationship to it.
And I thought of the cars that whirred by, and of the drivers that only saw a tiny fraction of this at most, trapped within a steel cage and likely distracted. They were there, but they were not truly there.
”Yeah,” I said. “You see the beauty of it all. And once you realize you can see beauty anywhere, just by hopping on a bike, it’s tough to get in a car.”
“And then you really get it, that it’s not about getting a really expensive bike. It’s about being part of everything.”
What I’m reading: The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People. I’m reading this because I know of one concept in the book: the idea of focusing on one’s immediate circle of control. The basic argument is that one should focus almost fully on the things that one can immediately influence: loved ones, peers, and one’s immediate environment. The further removed from this immediate circle something is, the less likely it is to be worth thinking about (the news and federal politics). The more you think about things outside of your immediate circle, the more stressed you become.
What I’m watching: Squid Game. Might be the most powerful show I’ve ever watched. The final two episodes are haunting. I’m still thinking about the old man’s quote near the end: “What do people who don’t have enough money and people who have too much money have in common? Misery.” Followed by another, on his deathbed, when asked why he played such a despicable game with the show’s protagonist. “I think about when I was a kid, playing outside with friends, and how we lost track of time. I wanted to get that feeling back.” Wow, what a show.
What I’m listening to: “Shadowminds” by The Halo Effect. It’s what I expect from catchy melodic death metal.
What I’m doing: I’m breathing. I’m pausing and appreciating that I’m here, that I’m writing passages that you may or may not relate to (though if you’ve made it to this sentence, maybe something has struck a chord).
My foot is healing. I’m planning the next adventure… off-road cycling awaits. Let’s see where tomorrow takes me.
