The life cycle of man

Life is about constant failure. Living is constantly dusting yourself off, ignoring the obvious - you'll fail again - and smashing headlong into the world. Further to this profundity is the other side of this rather obvious coin, to not try again is not truly possible. Everyday I fail as a father - raise my voice when a gentle hand was required, let slip an aberration in behavior that earlier had been identified as a trigger for consequence. As a husband, distracted and un-hearing when connection was so honestly sought after, I most wretchedly and repeatedly fail. Nearing 40 I am beginning to see a pattern. My abilities as a human - son, brother, friend, father and husband - seem to peak and inevitably ebb in correlation with my fitness, my connection to a bicycle.

Now this could be accepted as sad, as a sign of a significant lack of character. Or, and hopefully, there is something about a bicycle, at least for me, that is beyond the obvious, wheels and gears, a means of childhood transportation. For me there is something about the shear simplicity of wheels spinning, pedal circle driven, tracing a path over our circular world. The renewal so evident in nature so poetically embodied in a series of simple turnings, wheels, gears, pedals. What started for me as a way to induce adrenal gland squeezing - that adrenaline fed dichotomous connection and detachment from a daily life - with age and even possibly wisdom, has become more.

I no longer get suited up like some modern day gladiator and then launch man and bicycle down near vertical slopes or off manmade ramps. Whether rolling through a gorgeous stand of hardwoods on gentle trails on my faithful old mountain bike or more recently enjoying the speed and and distance possible on the road, the cycling serves a much higher purpose. For me, there seems to be a connection found, a clarity gained, that makes living of life simpler. Weird. And then I stop.

Ain't life grand. Find an elixir that has only benefits and then misplace it on a regular basis. That's what I do with cycling. A cold, a busy time, the change of seasons, these all seem to so easily derail my cycling. To the detriment of all that I am responsible for and to. But we all fail. And some get back up. I get up because of the support of my beautiful life partner and our wonderful kids. Jennifer just says simply, go. She may have been home single-parenting for 10 hours and exhausted; half way into preparing a supper one-handed, Lily on her hip, at the same time directing JT's homework and redirecting Matt's boundless energy, but she simply says, go. No malice, no tone tinged with anger or resentment, just a simple loving push to get out the door and pedal.

Given that kind of support I find myself making better choices. I never feel trapped by my family. The freedom to drop all and ride creates the atmosphere where I chose to sneak in rides to reduce time away from Jen and the kids. I'm cycle commuting this year. Jen authorized the buying of bike, bag and clothes and I started out like gang busters. Recently I failed...again...and have spent the last two to three weeks driving my car to work. Oh, with good reason, a bout of some malingering virus, early winter, but not good enough. Today I commuted to and from work. A whole stolen hour of cycling. -10 C with snow down, sure, but it was perfect. I'm back baby. The wheel turns and I'm back on top. With support like this you just have to try again. I can see our coat of arms forming in my head, a griffin riding a bicycle with some dead language framing - "We who get up."