The other day was an unpleasant one. A friend of mine had died as a result of an accident, and it was time for his funeral. Part of me wanted to hide away and skip it. There isn’t a bigger reality check in life than the death of a friend or loved one, and I’m not too proud to say that I was afraid of facing those realities. I thought I could just load up the bike and ride my day away, pretending that everything was just fine. I could do  that, but I realized that my friend's family didn’t have that luxury. They were face-to-face with a tough situation, and I knew I’d feel some shame if I didn’t show support for them and say goodbye to an old friend one last time. I put the ride on hold even though I really wanted to pedal to the point of  exhaustion, then sink into the couch and forget about life (and death) for the rest of the day.

I made it through the funeral despite the ache in my heart, the tears in my eyes, and the confusion in my brain. But my day still had another heartbreak hurdle: my dear mom has been ill for some time, and the prospect isn’t good. So I went for a visit. It certainly wasn’t as sad as the funeral; mom still has her lovable chuckle now and then. But by the end of the visit, I was emotionally  spent.

There was still daylight left, so I gathered myself up and loaded my gear and bike into the car. As I strapped on my helmet and clipped into my pedals, my pain started to wane. My bikes, I would consider, are my close friends, having given me so much joy over the years. The feel of the grips in my hands and the sensation of momentum with that first push of the pedal was like a warm, caring embrace.

The trail unfolded in front of me, and my focus switched from sorrow to the concentration that the trail demands—a welcome respite from the truly hard part of the day. In fact, any difficult efforts I did on the bike that day not only felt insignificant in comparison, they also felt calming in a burning-legs kind of way. 

With each explosive uphill, dopamine washed through my system. With each downhill, twisting through the trees, endorphins mixed into the feel-good cocktail. I was soon happy to...be. Mind you, riding your bike isn’t going to make everything bad magically go away. I thought of my friend and my mom many times during my ride. But it dulled the barbs of unhappiness, even if it was just for a little while. Sometimes, that is all you need to keep you going.

Nature also played a part in my catharsis. Sitting down for a break, sipping an energy drink, I became keenly aware of the quiet sounds of the breeze, the birds, and a squirrel bounding through the underbrush. The view in front of me stretched out for miles in a wonderful, multi-colored, real-life  painting—a visual shoulder to lay my head on. 

Life is full of hardship and heartbreak, but I’ve learned that your bike has your back. It’s a friend you can turn to in your dark hours that can provide a means to a better headspace and a lighter heart. If you’re in pain, take your sorrows out for a ride.