Life at the Speed of Bike

Well.

I’ve started writing a “coronavirus post” a couple times in the last few weeks. Distraction, redirection, and infuriation have come hour by hour, that is for sure.

Often when I write, I start with a brain-fart concept that often ends up being the title. This time around it’s been flickering between two competing alternatives: an uplifting “Life at the Speed of Bike,” or an ominous “Life during Wartime.”

Life at the Speed of Bike: Regardless of what’s going on in my mind or on the planet it’s impossible not to smile within 30 seconds of pedaling the bike. A lot of other folks feel the same way about running, especially trail running.

Riding a bike is unlike any other kind of physical experience. The combination of rolling along, wind in the face, and applying pressure on the pedals combine to become a magical therapeutic elixir. David Byrne agrees.

Life during Wartime: Meanwhile, despite the smile on my face, for whatever reason, the earworm playing these days is “Life during Wartime:”

This ain’t no party, this ain’t no disco
This ain’t no fooling around
No time for dancing, or lovey dovey
I ain’t got time for that now

Got that right.

From the perspective of a Vipassana meditator, it is interesting how the mind can simultaneously play multiple channels that at the surface level seem like opposites: The joy of the moment while cycling, plus the dread of what might lie ahead for humanity.

I’m fortunate to be able to get out and move my body–ride, run, or hike–without needing to drive somewhere. The I-90 bike trail is only 2 minutes away, and Mercer Island is my go-to one-hour ride. Longer rides generally radiate in concentric circles from the tangent point at Sam Smith Park.

For example, since the Hwy 520 upgrade, one of my favorites is a “Two Bridge Loop:”

That route now has an addition at the west end of the 520 trail that connects with Lake WA Blvd and the Lake Washington Loop at E Roanoke St.

At first, folks didn’t take the social distancing guidance from state and local officials seriously. The social media feeds looked like a global-scale Instagram FOMO party. (Which still appears to be happening in some regions.) However, during the last few days it looks as though the pendulum has finally swung in the other direction.

The sights and sounds (or quiet) these days reinforce our collective sense of the dance between light and dark.

Higher than normal usage regional trails and parks left me wondering: “Where are all these people on a normal Saturday afternoon?”

Heard of a van that is loaded with weapons
Packed up and ready to go
Heard of some grave sites out by the highway
A place where nobody knows

The sound of gunfire off in the distance
I’m getting used to it now
Lived in a brownstone, I lived in the ghetto
I’ve lived all over this town

This ain’t no party, this ain’t no disco
This ain’t no fooling around
No time for dancing, or lovey dovey
I ain’t got time for that now

Transmit the message, to the receiver,
Hope for an answer some day
I got three passports, a couple of visas,
You don’t even know my real name

High on a hillside, the trucks are loading,
Everything’s ready to roll
I sleep in the daytime, I work in the nighttime,
I might not ever get home

This ain’t no party, this ain’t no disco
This ain’t no fooling around
This ain’t no mudd club, or C.B.G.B.
I ain’t got time for that now

Heard about Houston? Heard about Detroit?
Heard about Pittsburgh, P. A.?
You oughta know not to stand by the window
Somebody see you up there

I got some groceries, some peanut butter,
To last a couple of days
But I ain’t got no speakers, ain’t got no headphones,
Ain’t got no records to play

Why stay in college? Why go to night school?
Gonna be different this time
Can’t write a letter, can’t send no postcard,
I ain’t got time for that now

Trouble in transit, got through the roadblock,
We blended in with the crowd
We got computers, we’re tapping phone lines,
I know that that ain’t allowed

We dress like students, we dress like housewives,
Or in a suit and a tie
I changed my hairstyle, so many times now,
I don’t know what I look like!

You make me shiver, I feel so tender,
We make a pretty good team
Don’t get exhausted, I’ll do some driving,
You ought to get you some sleep

Burned all my notebooks, what good are notebooks?
They won’t help me survive
My chest is aching, burns like a furnace,
The burning keeps me alive