Back in the Saddle, Again!

I know I have been neglecting you.  I’ve received your imploring letters, your quiet bottles of trapped tears, your angry voice-mails.  I know your ire is simply a symptom of your deep sense of abandonment, your heartache at the abeyance in updates from my swashbuckling life.  Rest assured; I’m still here.

Where is “here”, you ask?

My beloved Chico, California!

Isn’t that just downright charming? (The only acceptable answer here is Yes.)

Why Chico?  Maria, you could have literally gone anywhere in the world to establish your rule.  Why did you choose Chico?

The simple answer is that I love Chico.  I love the eco-conscious community, the wealth of wonderful people that encourage and inspire me to cultivate love rather than human domination, all the damn bicycles, and the vast resource of sanity-assurance that is Bidwell Park.

Upper Bidwell Park with Big Chico Creek

I particularly like when those last two are combined.

For those unfamiliar with Bidwell, it’s the third largest municipal park in CA with over 3,600 acres of delicious, savory dirt.

Mmm… dirt.

This brings me to the whole reason I started writing today: Bicycles and Bidwell and the magic that happens when you combine the two.

Since returning to civilization, trading this:

While searching for monkeys I crashed through a nest of giant, black wasps that swarmed my face, followed quickly by me collapsing to the forest floor, uncontrollably sobbing “WHY AM I HERE?!?!” while my face swelled to the point of not being able to drink water because there was no more room left in my mouth. Fun.

For this:

I just took a nap and did me some yoga.

…I’ve developed a particular fondness (bordering on addiction) for mountain biking.  You may know that I had a healthy love for cycling before I decided to dedicate nearly two years of my life to stalking these munchkins:

Damn cute but demanding, I tell you! (Photo by Isabel Gottlieb)

But that was road biking.  Times have changed, Sister.  Now I get to roll in the dirt, climb up rocks, avert others, and weave through poisonous plant-matter.

Err…

Okay, that sounds a lot like what I did in Costa Rica but this time I get to do it all on top of my sexy new bike:

Go on. You can stare. He likes it.

Plus I don’t have to do it for 14 hours a day!  Though, admittedly, I still get up when it’s dark out which just feels wrong but I swear it’s totally worth it.

Usually I go riding with my friend Alex but this morning she was too knackered to join me so I headed out in the dark all by my onesies.  I rode up the North Rim trail which is a gradual but super rocky climb.

Climbing North Rim Trail: Bumpity, bumpity, bumpity.

I tried my legs at it twice recently but both times were in 95F-ish weather with the sun leaving me with a new compassion for the plight of Shrinky Dinks.  I didn’t get very far.

In the still, coolness of dawn it was WAY more manageable and I was actually able to get all the way UP it to where the goodness really begins.

Riding along the top, I stopped to take in the expansive view and found myself awash with the familiar pleasure and calm of being alone in wilderness.  I looked up at the clear, blue sky with our waning gibbous moon still visible and felt such gratitude for the fact that I was able to do the simple act of looking up and seeing the sky.  I could see it and appreciate it for as loooong as I wanted.

You see, in CR, that was a luxury unknown to us Moneros.  When we looked up, this is what we saw:

And we didn’t even see the sky.  We just saw the monkey. Can you see the monkey?

Every so often the capuchins would take us to the edge of a pasture and we’d steal the opportunity to step out into the soothing openness and notice what a lovely day it probably was out there for the rest of ‘em.

Today, I reflected on how dramatically different my life is now.  I split the frame with my Costa Rica life on one side and this moment of my life on the other.

Such a contrast!

How grateful I am that I get to be here, riding my bike for the unadulterated pleasure of it!  How fortunate am I that I get to exercise; I get to indulge in hours of activity a day with the simple objective of keeping myself healthy.  What luxury I live in!

I get to enjoy the view.  I get to savor the magnification of every shift of my weight and sigh of breath as I step out a soloist from the human orchestra.  And the knowledge that at the bottom of this hill, snuggled up in their beds, is a collection of people I get to return to who so generously share their love and lives with me.  It makes my chest swell and throat tighten.

I am healthy.  My heart beats.

I have love.  I have support.

I have time.  Finally, I have precious time.

"Time Enough At Last", The Twilight Zone. If you haven't seen this classic episode, watch it on Netflix. Season 1, Episode 8.

Now, as long as I don’t break my glasses, this should be a sweet ride.