Cycling Lessons.

Perhaps one reason why I've grown to love biking so much, more than the heady thrill of it, more than how it reminds me of my overcoming fear (never rode a two-wheeled bicycle properly in ten years then upgraded to a roadbike within 2 months), is how much truth I find it teaches me. Ever so often when I find myself on the road, an epiphany hits me and I pause in amazement to take in the revelation, fresh like a breath of air.

I've been learning a few cycling lessons of late.


Lesson 1: Stop planning.
Lesson 2: Be distracted.
Lesson 3: Don't rely on yourself.


I see you raising your eyebrows. I can explain.

Lesson 1: Stop planning.

All our lives we've been taught to plan. Plan, and you will succeed. And so we've sold ourselves to this Planning Conspiracy where every single minute of our lives has to be recorded down in a compartmental box on a calendar. Work fills our days. And on the days we don't, how many of us can confess, unsheepishly, that we've never succumbed to that obsessiveness of planning whattodo, whotomeet, wheretogo next. Being busy is normal, fashionable even.

Don't get me wrong. I believe planning is important. My final exams for the year are in 2 weeks, and I've a calendar with my study plan right here.

But for too long, how many of us have set one too many goals, penned down one too many targets to reach, worried and obsessed over one too many Things to Do on our neverending list? We plan weeks, months at a time, (to attend this course, accomplish this project, participate in this race, read these number of books) and the pressure comes not merely from the sheer list drafted, but really, from the worry of our inability to fulfill them.

I was roadbiking the other day, with my new-found training partners on the road. They're triathletes and biking enthusiasts nice enough to give their time to help me. On a straight stretch of road where we decided to each break up to our own levels of speed, I watched as they tore down the road, disapppearing into the distance, as I tried my very best to keep up, albeit failing to. A seasoned cyclist ahead of me had slowed down, and my next aim was to overtake him.

Heavy vehicles were roaring down the road occasionally, and I had to check behind before I swung out of my line to overtake him. Anxious, I kept looking over my right shoulder to check for oncoming traffic, though I was still metres away from who I was trying to overtake.

It was then that I realised how silly that was. First things first, I should've got close enough to him before checking for traffic. Traffic, being dynamic, changes all the time. What was the point of checking behind if by the time I had decided to overtake, a truck had steamed near enough to hit me? What was the point of checking for traffic so early when he could decide to speed up and race off anytime?

And right there and then it struck me- isn't that how we live our lives sometimes too? We make plans way ahead of time, bullheadedly and adamantly, make a tonne of resolutions, even take measured steps to reach them, but forget to leave room for God, fail to leave room for the dynamics of life, which change as God leads. When we're so fixed on fulfilling tasks and meeting targets with such unrelenting definition, ignoring changes in circumstance or ourselves, not leaving space for our plans to change because "I have to do this", life becomes so... stifling.


It's funny. In the past, I used to plan my weeks, months in advance with meticulous precision. I believed those hard-lined goals would mould character, those unyielding deadlines would instil discipline. Yet, for all my punctilious planning, I never was happy. I got very, very sick instead. Tired. Heavy-burdened and weary. But now that I've learnt to trust in God a day at a time, making enough plans only to give me some sense of direction but leaving much, much room for His call for change and His guiding, leaving room to listen to my body (am I doing too much?) and circumstance (has the situation changed?), to His voice, I find I accomplish much, much more than I ever set out to do in the first place, with much more joy, peace and satisfaction, simply because I've more energy and zeal without the self-imposed stresses.

When we choose to give up our obdurate natures, lay down our pride, surrender our futures to God, trusting Him to take us through whatever may come our way, releasing to Him our worries, anxieties and must-dos, trusting Him to take us to the top when we remain faithful to His calling, allowing ourselves to become pliant and flexible, limber and yielding, life becomes a whole lot more enjoyable, easy and fun, too. You never know when God will surprise you, never know when a turn in the road may take you somewhere so new.

Pliance is not weakness. Yieldedness, not leniency. In fact, when we allow ourselves to be flexible and give God permission to s-t-r-e-t-c-h us, we, like elastic bands, surprise ourselves with simply how much we could hold.

Which is why I am learning not to plan rigorously for another book, not to plan to join another race, not to dictate God's will by saying which specialty I intend to pursue, not to make it another item chiseled intransigently onto my to-do list. Planning is important, yes, but focusing on Now instead of boasting in a misty future, hitting goals which are but temporal is even more so. Yes, I shall continue to do my best to be a good steward of the gifts God has given me, shall continue to train, shall continue to dream, but I am learning- that above and beyond this, letting God and giving Him room to work, to change our plans, to be the author of the ending is far, far more exciting. I never planned for Kitesong, and now, when I've decided to throw away my training plan and listen to my body instead, I find I train much better simply because I've learnt to enjoy it so much, because I'm giving God room to say "that's enough for today".

When I was so intent on checking for traffic so I could hit my target ahead, I could hardly enjoy the ride anymore. But as I understood the laws of change and waiting, taking action when the time called for it instead of taking two steps too soon, allowing room for variability and change, and focused on pushing myself instead of looking outside for affirmation, things fell into place and my bike took over quietly, swiftly, steadily.

Hence, lesson one for me: Stop planning. Start living.



Lesson 2: Be distracted.

I love riding at the beach. Being a large part of my childhood, the beach is a place I can unfold in, and I feel the sea speak to me each time I visit it. But ever notice how when you race down a path, with your eyes transfixed ahead, the wind blares in your ears, and all you hear is the wind resisting your inexorable advance? And I can no longer hear the sea. It is far away.

The world tells us never, ever to take our eyes off our targets. Not even for a split second. Is that why so many of us lose ourselves in temporal goals, failing to realise they are but a chasing-after-the-wind, and it is really what we learn in the process that counts? And I realise, it is only when I tilt my head ever so slightly, allowing myself to be distracted from the road ahead (if only for a moment), that I can hear the ebb and flow of the tide, its pulsing song, and careful whisper.

We go to the beach to enjoy the sea, but when we're there, we forget it altogether. Are we like that too, do we become so focused on racing ahead that we forget the point we started our journeys in the first place- that is, to learn lessons, to enjoy the scenery, to listen to what God has to whisper to us?

Sometimes, perhaps it's good to take your eyes off the road ahead for a while, stop for a moment, and hear what God has to speak to you. He might very well ask you to change your path, change lanes, stop for a moment to admire the rising crimson sun in the dawn, and it could very well be worth it.



Hence, lesson 2. Be distracted. In the good sense, of course.



Lesson 3: Don't rely on yourself.

The world tells us to be fiercely independent, that it's a dog-eat-dog world out there, that no one besides yourself is reliable. I used to be entirely self-sufficient, and darn proud of it too. But I am learning, it is only when we allow ourselves to expose our vulnerabilities that we open ourselves to many a good samaritan out there, who've much to teach, much to share.

Ever since I made new cycling friends (those triathlete enthusiasts with time and energy to spare to teach an amateur as myself) I realise how much I enjoy their company, even though we don't have much in common, because they make the journey easier. I hardly go as fast when I ride by myself. One's aching muscles literally make cycling a pain in the butt. But Friendship makes the toughest roads easier to ride through, and the funny thing is, they even stretch us to distances we never thought possible. With friends, one forgets the pain and monotony in the ride. Also, when you ride behind someone more experienced (called 'drafting'), you ride much easier because he's helped you cut out the wind resistance.

Friends are precious. Hence lesson 3- there's no point pretending to rely on oneself all the time. God gave us friends.


And so I've really grown to love my roadbike, for all the lessons it teaches me, like learning how to live a day at a time in God's grace, and all the growing up it's been helping me to do. Just the way I'd like to turn twenty-two.

"Now listen, you who say,

'Today or tomorrow we will go to this or that city, spend a year there, carry on business and make money'

Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life?

You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes.

Instead, you ought to say,

"If it is God's will, we will live and do this or that..."

-James 4:13-15