Mortification of the Flesh on a Bike

Someone once said that cyclists all had demons they fought with the act of cycling itself.  Hard exercise is often mortification of the flesh. And, so it is.

Today I was riding my road bike along the backroads around Avery Island, Louisiana.  I rode almost 15 miles.  It was hot, and I had ridden 11 miles yesterday along a similar route.  

The route was the typical desolation of this area of the country: stagnant bayous, tall weeds, bad pavement, humidity, intense heat, dumped trash, patched trailers, and the sound of cicadas.  The water stank with brackish putridity.  

In all this desolation, you think - especially on a bike.  I was pushing myself.  I had to.  It was unpleasant riding on bad pavement; my hands shook and my bones rattled as if I were using a jackhammer.  

Mortification of the flesh!  The spirit is freed!  It is like fasting, or some ritual of deprivation.  You find out what is important, and what is not.  Your perspective widens and you see clearly things you had not when the flesh was not mortified.  When the environment all around you is devoid of meaning, the spirit arrives and fills the void.  The desert is where all the major religions began.  Since nature abhors a vacuum, our desolate areas become settings of spiritual renewal - if only for a while, or for longer.

Often, we find strength in situations that appear intolerable at the time.  Of course, afterward is always when we realize this.  If we realized this in the moment, it would not be the same, and it would not have the same effect.  We cannot realize it in any case because of the nature of the ebb and flow of spiritual stress and spiritual flourishing.  One gives rise to the other in a regular rhythm.