Mindful Cycling:

Riding a one-speed bike is skinny dipping a starlit cove in West Cork.  Visualize surfing an endless point break alone under the golden moon of summer.

I am again in the throes of One-Speed Fever, a passion which affects thousands of bikies daily.  Every cyclist is at heart a minimalist and burning deep in that heart is the joy of mindful riding, a meditation.  In that zone respiration is the Creator’s breath filling your lungs with life, stoking the fire of metabolism deep in your belly.  Your legs move, your muscles stretch and contract rhythmically, but you are utterly still; the world rolls beneath you. The Cosmic OM resonates throughout your body, vitalizing both bike and rider.  Visualize a cyclist within a swarming galaxy whose axis is her fontanel. If you’ve got that, you “get” one-speed.

The one-speed idea is a bicycle so spare that nothing is without immediate function.  Here you see no spring forks, iPods, or clusters of electronic doodads.  There are no fancy gear shifters, derailleurs or hydration systems. You don’t need a pulse and blood pressure gadget when you feel every heartbeat throughout your body.  One-speed cyclists fret over whether to retain the rear brake, hardly necessary and always mushier than the crisp snap of the front canti.   Ms. Raleigh has Paul cantilever brakes, front and rear; her front canti is a touring model which would stop a rockslide.  You must learn not to apply it too forcefully.  Although the rear brake is elegant and functional, it comes with its own clutter.  I sometimes forget my helmet. So it goes. 

With a one-speed comes an entirely different cycling reality; a deeper serenity and harmony.  You do walk up many hills and invariably coast downhill, but when was the last time you had such unalloyed joy as coasting down a long hill?  Gravity, usually your master, becomes your friend.  Walking your bike uphill you meet the world at the only pace known to your ancient ancestors. When was the last time you really looked at a horse? A cow? A caterpillar? Walking up Ardfield Hill was how I met May, my Airedale friend who sometimes gives me kisses.  There is nothing more innocent and sincere than May’s kiss.  She’s your pal.

If I’ve infected you, you may come to thank me.  Now we’re dreaming of taking a one-speed tour of coastal Ireland next spring, Ms. Raleigh and me.  Ms. Raleigh likes the idea of becoming a bikini bike again.   Me too!

(If you want to peek at an elegant one-speed, check out Rivendell Bicycle Works “Quickbeam” at http://www.rivbike.com/.  It’s not Ms. Raleigh, but he is an elegant machine; her American cousin.)

Peace.