like riding a bike

In order for this summer to be a success, it will be necessary for me to engage in activities for which metaphors and similes are useless — like riding a bike. It is its own action and there really is no need to compare it to anything else. To not create metaphors will be difficult, were it not for the fact that I am relearning that I truly like riding a bike. In so much of what I do professionally, having metaphors to rely upon is helpful: diving into the wreck, serving as a day laborer, striving to create a craftsmen's workshop. But gloriously plain tasks don't require further explanation. Creating time with the day to do non-metaphorical activities is a noble goal.

This morning's ride was another out-and-back trip along a segment of a rails-to-trails project. I am setting no records and might be totaling 15 miles on each trek. There were lots of things to notice today:

• The refreshing coolness when the trail cut through rock outcroppings covered in moss and ferns.
• An abandoned ball cap perched on a trailside fencepost.
• The remnants of old railroad ties, also under vegetation, that seemed to pass by as I huffed my way up a gentle slope.
• A guy in black, wearing sunglasses, walking on an overcast day, in the woods, smoking a cigarette.
• Noticing the change in grade, not by the incline, but by shifts in the amount of leg muscle exertion and the pace of my heartbeats.
  

I was tempted to think about what else I do that is like riding a bike or how the things I saw reminded me of other things. Instead, I kept reminding myself that it was just the riding of the bike that was enough on its own. I don't need to compare it to anything else. In the same way, I don't need to extract deeper meaning out of making a damn good batch of sangria with red wine from a box. Nothing inspiring must come from spreading cedar mulch around bushed and perennials. My goal is not to avoid metaphors because there are times where they can be really helpful, such as when I'm inspired to contemplate my surroundings as if I'm inside a whale. I know I should exhibit restraint. When I go backpacking, it is not important that I find ways to use that experience to represent anything else. In the future, more abstract experiences may refer back to such fundamental and unmediated endeavors.
I appreciate the benefits of being in the moment and not trying to read something profound into activities that are important because of their simplicity — like riding a bike.