The ride.

About four weeks ago, I decided to start riding my bike to school everyday. Not only would I essentially be paying myself about $350 dollars to do so, but it would also give me a great chance to get my legs moving and conjure up a little energy in the morning. On my first day of riding my bike to school, I woke up feeling as though my twin sized bed had a wrong side for which I had woken up on. I was grumpy. Anxious. Nervous. Late. And mad...mad that I had to ride my bike to school that day.

With my eyes half crossed and swollen from sleep, I stumbled into the bathroom which I share with one of my roommates. She looked at me and asked, "are you ok?". I offered some incoherent and brief reply about my exhaustion and shut the bathroom door. Begrudingly, I got ready for my internship. I stepped out the door just 15 minutes later, and walked around my duplex to the garage where my bike was stored. Now, I have been the owner of a hybrid bicycle since the time I served a mission in North Carolina. I remember as a missionary being able to ride so much faster than my companions because of my bike. We would trade bikes to test and it was quickly decided that my bike was decidedly supreme to theirs. So this bike, once such a champ was my vehicle for safe arrival on this dark and dismal morning.

I rounded my first turn on my bicycle, and as I searched the road for any other vehicles, my eyes fastened onto an old man riding his bicycle. I thought in my mind, "Please, turn...don't go my way! Don't ride next to me!" Much to my dismay, this was exactly what happened. I muttered something under my breath about my annoyance with my present situation. But I rode on. Looking back on this situation, I am positive he must have seen a sign on my back that said "back off brother, this is my road!" And back off, he did. I rode faster to place as much distance as possible between me and the old man.

As I continued to ride along on my way to school, I soon found that my once glorious wonder of a bicycle had passed her prime. She was now rusty and the gears wouldn't switch. My seat kept rotating out of turn and I was reminded of the incompetent front break. I was slow. Really slow. This was more than evident as I noticed several riders pass me at double my speed. And I was sweating. And breathing hard. I rode on, continuing in my frustration. Somehow, this ride had already given me so many more reasons to curse the world and the day itself, engaging me more strongly in my annoyance.

And then, something magical happened. I came to the final stoplight before I rode onto campus. As I looked ahead of me, there were atleast 15 people on bicycles waiting at the stoplight. A curious sight indeed. I looked behind me, and 10 more. We all stopped. And waited. And then, at the change of a light from red to green, we rode on. Not one man or woman for themselves, but everyone for one another. Together. Synchronized. And powerful. My once slow pace quickened. I soon forgot my frustrations. Immediately I became cognizant of fellow riders pace, and I fell in step. We moved together: leaning, braking, riding. It was marvelous. I began to feel like I was a part of something bigger than me. I was a part of a team. A team that was going somewhere and had purpose. As we rode through the campus of Colorado State University, I found myself giddy with excitement. I felt their energy and drive, it had been transferred into my soul.

I rode to the building where I intern, and got off my bike. I shook my head, wondering what and how this had just happened to me. Amazed, that such a morning could change so quickly with the presence of another; the presence of many, seeking the same or similar destinations. I felt grateful, to have felt the comradery of my fellow bicyclers. It renewed my a hope for a better day. And helped me chuckle at my previous behavior. I walked into the counseling center, ready to go to work and feeling a little less burdened. And the day went on, just as the ride had that morning.