One With the Wind

It may be true that nothing exceeds the beauty of a sleeping baby, but who doubts that we humans are made to move? Even an infant, from the moments after birth, begins to stretch her arms and legs, preparing her body and muscles for the day when coordination will allow her to crawl, then stand and finally walk. Parents anticipate a child's first steps with anticipation and dread. The fantastic milestone marks the end of infancy and sets the stage for a lifetime of exploration.

It doesn't  take long for walking to turn into running. I introduced my children to running by playing soccer, tennis and tag. The resulted as a natural consequence from the fun we were having. Perhaps my affinity for sports like tennis and baseball comes from the regular pauses that permit the enjoyment of the outdoor surroundings. I have felt a profound joy from the breeze on my face on a warm and calm day. I realize that I am the very creator of the wind as I move through time and space, cutting through the air like a plane through the clouds. Each step brings the encouraging blast that keeps you going. But for me this joy arrives in the quick dashes as I prefer to avoid long distance running.

I can easily explain my preference for a bicycle ride than a long distance run. Atop the simple machine I enjoy the advantage of creating that very breeze for hours on end, rather than in brief spurts. While a commute in July and August promises brutal temperatures, simple planning provides adequate hydration for long distance rides. The heat of the sun on my face may seem daunting, but I always find that as long as I'm moving I can avoid the scorching heat reflected by the boiling pavement, and instead bask in the the simultaneous cooling from a pleasant summer's day biker breeze.

I prefer a calm day for riding because, while it is nice to have the wind at your back, any round trip guarantees a head wind. But there are rare occasions that I match exactly the precise speed and direction of the wind. In those moments time seems to stand still, except every visual cue confirms that you are really moving. Houses, trees and posts pass by like ticks on a clock. But in that space there is no breeze, no air moving behind you and no clear curtain to cut through. You inhabit a space of ethereal motion where you seem to be transported without actual movement; as though you are standing still and everything else is moving.

In that space you are like that baby, quiet and still, while everything else is moving about you. You inhabit the space of complete peace and tranquility while the world turns around you. But no road is perpetually straight and no win is constant. But like the perfect drive off the tee, that moment, once experienced, will always bring you back for more.