The great joy of simple pleasures while on a cycle tour is starting to take form again. As I sat on the Southern edge of the Sahara desert, I ate a pomegranate and looked back at the kilometers we had just endured. Under the shade of the roadside cabana, I could hear the call to prayer at the village mosque of Abu Simbel. As I methodically nibbled the seeds from my glowing red fruit, I felt as though this food was my religion. Nothing could make it more of a spiritual experience than the trials and tribulations of 2 weeks on a 200 pound bicycle. The satisfaction of ones most basic needs, food and a place to sleep, are enough to send me into bouts of joy. The appreciation for these little things fills my being with life and admiration. I don’t know how to explain the feeling, for at some points it’s a catch-22. The ultimate goal isn’t to reach a destination or kilometer, it is to be mid-ride, with nothing but an open road in front of you. It’s to be flying at the most efficient way a human can go under his or her own power.
The feeling doesn’t come from the places I ride to, but a release of something inside myself. A muse of sorts that plays a tune to the roars toon of the bicycle pedals. To keep it alive, I ride over each and every hill in the horizon.
When this ephemeral muse runs its course for the day, it leaves me feeling whole, proud and affirmed. Inundated with life, everything more is purely a blessing, whether it’s a cup of tea, submersion in water, fresh meal, or resting my head safely and securely. Thanks to the 1,000 kilometers that brought me this feeling and the many more with which to chase it!