10/25/23 Biking & Listening

Here’s today’s bike ride.

Why I ride

Biking is something I both love and hate. The conflicting emotions arise from the undeniable physical effort it demands. However, this exertion is precisely what makes it an excellent form of exercise. Most days, I dedicate over an hour to my cycling routine, and in doing so, I’ve discovered a unique opportunity to enjoy a good book or podcast. The rhythmic pedaling and the wind against my face create a calming backdrop that allows me to fully immerse myself in the content. In these moments, the time spent on the bike seems worthwhile, as I can’t help but appreciate the mental and physical rewards it offers.

I especially like having ridden. The post-biking feeling is one of pure satisfaction. The endorphin rush, coupled with a sense of accomplishment, makes the initial struggle and fatigue worthwhile. As I dismount and catch my breath, I relish the sensation of having conquered the challenge, both physically and mentally. It’s a reminder that the things we sometimes love to hate can often be the ones that bring us the most fulfillment. In the end, the love-hate relationship with biking only deepens my appreciation for the sport, as it continually pushes me to overcome my own limitations and embrace the rewards that follow the effort.

My bike

A Rockhopper by Specialized. I purchased it November 2021 from Venture Out in Guntersville; Mike is top notch! So is the bike. The ‘old’ man seat was salvaged from an old Walmart bike (update: seat replaced, new photo to follow, someday).


Something to consider if you’re not already cycling.

I encourage you to start riding a bike, no matter your age. Check out these groups:

Cycling for those aged 70+(opens in a new tab)

Solitary Cycling(opens in a new tab)

Remember,

Photo by Suzy Hazelwood on Pexels.com


Novel I’m listening to:

Podcasts I’m listening to:

From Waking Up app–Vocabularies of Being

Sam speaks with poet and essayist Jane Hirshfield. They discuss Jane’s poems “Habit,” “Many-Roofed Building in Moonlight,” “​​A Cedary Fragrance,” “It Was Like This: You Were Happy,” and “Three Times My Life Has Opened,” all of which she recites.

They also discuss Jane’s experience as a member of Princeton’s first graduating class with women; the creative power of beginner’s mind; poetry as a hybrid art form; Jane’s years-long “detour” at America’s first Buddhist monastery; distinguishing between lineages and teachers; various frameworks of Buddhist practice; Jane’s experience with psychedelics; the Japanese poem that changed Jane’s life; the deliberateness of practice vs. the automaticity of routine; how a Miles Davis record inspired Jane’s first glimpse of non-duality; the fundamental unknowability of other people; and other topics.

Jane Hirshfieldin poems described by The Washington Post as belonging “among the modern masters” and in The New York Times Magazine as “among the most important poetry in the world today,” addresses the urgent immediacies of our time. A practitioner of Soto Zen for almost fifty years, she received lay-ordination in 1979 in the San Francisco Zen Center lineage of Shunryu Suzuki Roshi. Hirshfield’s honors include fellowships from the Guggenheim Foundation, Rockefeller Foundations, and the National Endowment for the Arts. She has received the Poetry Center Book Award, the California Book Award, and Columbia University’s Translation Center Award. Her books have been finalists for the National Book Critics Circle Award, National Book Award, and England’s T.S. Eliot Prize in Poetry. Her latest collection is The Asking: New and Selected Poems.

Sam Harris is a neuroscientist, philosopher, five-time New York Times bestselling author—and creator of the Waking Up app. He has practiced meditation for over 30 years and has studied with many Tibetan, Indian, Burmese, and Western meditation teachers, both in the United States and abroad.


Here’s a few photos from along my pistol route:

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Author: Richard L. Fricks

Writer. Observer. Builder. I write from a life shaped by attention, simplicity, and living without a script—through reflective essays, long-form inquiry, and fiction rooted in ordinary lives. I live in rural Alabama, where writing, walking, and building small, intentional spaces are part of the same practice.

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