The Resting Rock

As I write this, my wife is on a bike trip across New York State with the Empire State Ride, which raises funds for Roswell Park Comprehensive Cancer Center. By the end of this week, she will have ridden more than 500 miles on bike paths, roads, up hills, along canals, in the shade of mountains and forests and through municipalities ranging from small towns to cities. We both bought our current bikes in April 2020 during the COVID lockdown and have found how much we enjoy bike riding. And, now she’s using her enjoyment to help people suffering from cancer.

This brings me to the focus of my latest post – a poem – on the Resting Rock. It ain’t the Pulitzer Prize or Nobel Prize, and it won’t make me the United States Poet Laureate, but I’ve received an award for my writing: two tickets to a Buffalo Bills game.

Here in Buffalo, at least for now, some might see those two tickets as a more valuable award than the literary honors mentioned above.

My company held a bicycle essay contest. Instead of an essay, I wrote a poem about what getting on a bike does for me.

This isn’t the first award I’ve received for writing. In 2015, I won a sail repair and maintenance kit from Quantum Sails. The sailmaker judged entries from sailors about their ultimate sailing dream. I wrote about my wish to sail the five Great Lakes in five months. I came in second place.

Back to this award-winning piece of literature. As always, I welcome your feedback, likes, comments, and shares..

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Ode to Bicycling 

Aerobics: no thanks; and the same goes for swimming
Humming "om" with a straight face I can't do without grinning
So yoga is out and its child pose, too
Its positions - I admit I just cannot do.

When I'm out on a run, I can't wait to be done
And the gym to me has no appeal
It's speed that I like
So, I get on my bike
I'm much better off on two wheels.

From Amherst to Clarence to Akron and back
I'll keep a good pace as I ride;
The sound of the gears and the rush of the wind
Help me put all my stressors aside.

Riding along, it's what's on the journey:
A horse in a paddock staring at me, 
A blanket of fog down in a valley, 
The orange sun rising over a ridge,
The gurgling of water under a bridge.

I'll head north or south, go east or west, 
Ride for an hour or two, and then I'll rest
The legs will be tired, my mind in a good place
Ready again to face the rat race.

On top of two wheels, it's kind of like life:
It's a balance, measured effort, and easy and tough,
One day's a great ride, another is rough.
Fall off, stand up, get back on the seat, 
Miles to go, so head down the street.