The rhythms of the long commute
Posted on | September 5, 2007 | No Comments
I was going to write a reasonably serious post this evening about the blogosphere and its role in the media-relations business and blah blah blah. I still will attack that with seriousness, maybe even this week. But I shifted gears because in blogland you need to listen to your rhythms.
As I’ve changed jobs, I’ve rededicated myself to being more disciplined about aspects of life outside work. Let’s face it: unless you’re a total slug (and virtually all of your aren’t) you like working and working hard. It’s the American way. But we can’t balance for shit in modern American, and I’d like to find some balance. So I have the fantastic luck of working in a building in which there’s a great health club with a great shower. So that means not only that I get to lift more during the week but that I can rekindle my bike-commuting flame because there’s a great shower.
Too many of us work really hard and then carve out time at the end or beginning of the day to hit the gym before or after our long commute. I’ve been fortunate enough to be in situations where I can incorporate the workout into the commute. And these days are ideal for that.
I’ve tweaked my 10-year-old bike for a 15-mile commute to the city (saddle bags, better handlebars and a more comfortable seat for my aging ass). I leave at 7 and hit the office at 8:10. (I’ve done worse: home to the ferry to the city to biking around the Embarcadero to the train station to San Mateo to the office waaaayyyy up the hill: 2 hours one way).
Today was just one of those days. I hit a group of three bikers (working out; not commuting) not 50 yards from our garage as we all made a short ascent. They chattered away. On the downslope there were riders coming up and riders going down and the sun slanted on us from the east. A guy with a road bike whizzed past me with a cheery “hey, good morning!†You bet, brother; none better. At the bottom of the hill, at the light, we all jawed and then went our separate ways, some to exercise; some to work.
I roll through Sausalito (where I once got a ticket for running a stop sign on my bike), make the energetic ascent to the Golden Gate Bridge and glide across that span either in bright morning sunlight or rainy fog, gumming up my glasses. If you stop at the towers and pause in the right spot, you can barely hear the commute traffic as you stare at the water and the city. And if you’re on the west side looking toward the Pacific, you’re alone at the end of the Earth and ain’t it grand?
What’s the point? The point is try to make sure that you hear your heart every day. People who ride or run with ear buds and iPods, well I just don’t get that. Biking or running or pickyourexercise is about tuning into the rhythms of yourself. Sometimes those stressors are illuminating; sometimes they’re debilitating. Either way it’s liberating. Feel either the joy or the pain of strain. But feel it.
I have ridden, years ago, on that long San Mateo commute in a driving rainstorm, soaked to the skin and
rarely
been
more
euphoric.
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