Cycling Spirituality (Alpha)
Yes, I'm one of those guys in the tight shorts on a bike. You know, the kind that irritate you on the road. Why just the other day I was pedaling up a ten mile stretch when I was startled by a crack on the back of my helmet. I nearly fell off my bike for fright! Catching myself, I saw a harmless chunk of ice bouncing on the road, apparently thrown at me by the Jeep jaunting merrily ahead.
I don't know why cyclists irritate motorists. After all, I'm a motorist too. I pay road taxes, and while on my bike I'm subject to the same laws you are.
I guess the guy just thought it would be fun to see if he could hit me. If he knew how close he came to causing an accident, he'd probably think twice before doing it again. Or not.
I've been honked at, sworn at, and, now, thrown at. At least I haven't been spat at. Yet.
I got into cycling about a year ago when a friend from our church cajoled me until I consented. I dragged myself out at dawn, dreading thoughts of huffing and puffing and sore backsides. But someone was counting on me, so more out of duty than desire I showed up.
I had a blast! Part of it was the companionship, I admit, for we always rewarded ourselves with a long stay at the coffee shop. But beyond that, I enjoyed the sense of freedom, accomplishment, and improvement I felt with each passing ride. I understood what another cyclist had said to me once: "It's kind of a religious experience."
Alas, the summer of our bike content was about to end, for my friend got a new job and we've been able to ride together only once since. And since I'd been riding on his second bike, my own riding pleasure was affected.
Having put over a thousand miles by then on a borrowed bike, I decided it was time to spend some of my own money on my habit. But where to begin? I didn't know the first thing about cycling....
My first venture into real cycling shops was a little disconcerting. I didn't know if I belonged or not, being a "newbie" and all. In fact, some shops made me feel awkward by the questions they asked: "What kind of riding do you do?" (I don't know -- the kind on two wheels?) "Do you ride recreationally or competitively? (Uh, I recreationally ride as competitively as I can.) And, "Are you looking for steel, aluminum, carbon, or titanium? (Hmm, how 'bout a red one?)
In contrast to this was my local bike shop named, oddly enough, "Flat Tire Bikes." It was there I met Kaolen, whose enthusiasm for helping a new rider get his first set of wheels was contagious. He patiently answered every question, never making me feel foolish for asking it. I knew he was more interested in finding the perfect bike for me than he was in selling a bike at all. Needless to say, I got my bike there, and now I shun the big guys for my LBS (for all you idiots, that's cycling slang for local bike shop).
My experience with bike shops strengthens my resolve to make sure that the church I pastor is welcoming to those who are uninitiated in religious slang. I'd like to be like my friend Kaolen, who sold me on his bike shop without even trying to do so. Wouldn't it be great if my natural enthusiasm for being a Christ-follower spilled over in an infectious way to those still in spiritual training wheels? Even better, wouldn't it be fantastic to pastor a church filled with contagious Christ-followers?
I don't know why cyclists irritate motorists. After all, I'm a motorist too. I pay road taxes, and while on my bike I'm subject to the same laws you are.
I guess the guy just thought it would be fun to see if he could hit me. If he knew how close he came to causing an accident, he'd probably think twice before doing it again. Or not.
I've been honked at, sworn at, and, now, thrown at. At least I haven't been spat at. Yet.
I got into cycling about a year ago when a friend from our church cajoled me until I consented. I dragged myself out at dawn, dreading thoughts of huffing and puffing and sore backsides. But someone was counting on me, so more out of duty than desire I showed up.
I had a blast! Part of it was the companionship, I admit, for we always rewarded ourselves with a long stay at the coffee shop. But beyond that, I enjoyed the sense of freedom, accomplishment, and improvement I felt with each passing ride. I understood what another cyclist had said to me once: "It's kind of a religious experience."
Alas, the summer of our bike content was about to end, for my friend got a new job and we've been able to ride together only once since. And since I'd been riding on his second bike, my own riding pleasure was affected.
Having put over a thousand miles by then on a borrowed bike, I decided it was time to spend some of my own money on my habit. But where to begin? I didn't know the first thing about cycling....
My first venture into real cycling shops was a little disconcerting. I didn't know if I belonged or not, being a "newbie" and all. In fact, some shops made me feel awkward by the questions they asked: "What kind of riding do you do?" (I don't know -- the kind on two wheels?) "Do you ride recreationally or competitively? (Uh, I recreationally ride as competitively as I can.) And, "Are you looking for steel, aluminum, carbon, or titanium? (Hmm, how 'bout a red one?)
In contrast to this was my local bike shop named, oddly enough, "Flat Tire Bikes." It was there I met Kaolen, whose enthusiasm for helping a new rider get his first set of wheels was contagious. He patiently answered every question, never making me feel foolish for asking it. I knew he was more interested in finding the perfect bike for me than he was in selling a bike at all. Needless to say, I got my bike there, and now I shun the big guys for my LBS (for all you idiots, that's cycling slang for local bike shop).
My experience with bike shops strengthens my resolve to make sure that the church I pastor is welcoming to those who are uninitiated in religious slang. I'd like to be like my friend Kaolen, who sold me on his bike shop without even trying to do so. Wouldn't it be great if my natural enthusiasm for being a Christ-follower spilled over in an infectious way to those still in spiritual training wheels? Even better, wouldn't it be fantastic to pastor a church filled with contagious Christ-followers?