People who know me well know that I am an avid cyclist. I cycle throughout the majority of the year. What most people do not know about me is that I am also a committed meditator, albeit an untraditional one. I meditate while I cycle.
In good weather — and often even in not-so-good weather — you will find me four or five days a week cycling both north and south along the Fox River bicycle path. While weather much below 30 degrees, as well as snow, usually keeps me housebound, I still mount my windtrainer and pedal unhappily for as long as I can stand the tedium. The rest of the time, I happily cruise along on two wheels enjoying the great outdoors. And each time I mount my bicycle and head out, I enjoy the added benefit of a 30- to 90-minute meditation practice.
Over the years I have tried a variety of meditation techniques, without much success. My mind refuses to get quiet, instead barraging me with incessant reminders of what remains on my to-do list, the day’s frustrations and disappointments, replays of recent encounters and conversations, and a variety of future scenarios for an even greater variety of events.
I know that not all meditation techniques require the achievement of a mind totally devoid; some simply ask us to just acknowledge our thoughts and let them go. Still, I seem to spend all my time on the emptying process and to never get any farther. Other techniques say noticing our thoughts leads to a greater awareness of the mind, allowing us to watch the mind and how it works. I can watch my mind for hours and only reach new levels of frustration with the trivial thoughts with which my mind insists on occupying itself.
I suppose the fact that I am an action-oriented person has something to do with my lack of meditation success. Meditation can provide a way to quiet the mind and to learn how to just be, but I am much more about doing. Plus, I am an impatient person, so while I can do watching my breath or my thoughts during a meditation, if something does not happen right away, such as achieving some higher awareness, I become frustrated and stop.
Meditations that require me to concentrate on something in particular, to visualize a particular scenario, or to verbalize, such as saying "ohm" or "ah," seem to be easier for me, because the verbal suggestions give my mind a focal point. Even then, however, I fail more than I succeed. And my need to see immediate results prevents my follow through with meditation practice, which does take practice.
I had just about given up on meditation when I made an interesting discovery. I was already learning to meditate almost every day — without even knowing it. Upon moving to Illinois in August 1997, I began a much more stringent cycling routine than I had pursued in the past. Almost every day I pedaled my bicycle along the Fox River for a 30- to 90-minute exercise period. After a few months I discovered that during my ride I settled into a calm, focused mental state.
On certain days, I would ride for miles and upon stopping not have any idea of what I had thought about along the way. In fact, I had thought of very little if anything, and those thoughts that did enter my mind did not seem to attract my attention at all. At the end of my ride, I would swing my leg over the bike and realize that I felt lighter, as if I had released all the burdens, worries, and stresses I was holding onto when I began the ride. Thus, I felt much more peaceful.
Just as with any other type of meditation practice, my cycling allowed me to remain more centered long after I completed the exercise. If I could take my bike ride in the early morning, I found I often felt the benefits of my cycling meditation throughout the majority of the day. If I took my ride in the afternoon, I was able to release much that had troubled me or caused me stress during the day. I then ended the day with a calmer, more centered attitude.
One might argue that I have confused my meditative state with a "cycler’s high," the euphoric feeling resulting from the release of endorphins while exercising strenuously for extended periods. I would disagree.While my cycling meditation achieves similar results — such as a peaceful, happy feeling that lasts hours after the exercise has ended — I don’t suffer from crankiness or depression on the days I don’t cycle, which many athletes find they do experience when they don’t work out. In addition, after discovering that I could achieve this meditative state while cycling, I began consciously striving for it when I rode. I don’t always achieve that state, and on some days I just ride, because time constraints or weather and traffic conditions make it impossible for me to concentrate in that manner. On such days, I feel good because I have exercised, but I don’t feel the same centered quality during the day.
Even so, meditating while cycling might seem a bit odd if not downright preposterous. You might wonder how I can meditate and cycle at the same time without crashing into a tree or a jogger or finding myself suddenly submerged in the chilly Fox River. The main trick is this: I keep my eyes open. In that way and others, cycling meditation is not much different from classic walking meditation.
Walking meditations are a common practice among some meditators, such as Theravada Buddhists, who endeavor to develop calm and insight by focusing awareness on the body while sitting, lying down, or walking. Other traditions use walking meditations for similar purposes. Besides giving us different things to notice about our breathing, our minds or our bodies, walking provides a way to energize ourselves after the calming effect of sitting.
Specific recommendations are available on how to conduct a walking meditation. For example, if you’re outside, you may pace off an area of a specific size and then proceed to walk back and forth across it, stopping at each end to "check in" and see if you have drifted away with a thought or stayed focused on the exercise itself. Two pointers from walking meditation seem especially appropriate for use with a cycling meditation: 1) keep the pace steady and 2) let changing conditions simply pass through the mind without focusing on them for any length of time. Cycling is especially conducive to the latter suggestion: sights flow by when you’re on your bike, and you can let your thoughts fly with them. Allow your mind to move on just as your bicycle moves on down the road.
I actually found I could use the passing views as a focus aid in my meditation. For instance, the sun rising above the windmill in Geneva’s Fabyan Park early one spring morning inspired me to be grateful for the new day. During another ride, the afternoon summer sun sparkling and dancing around the deep purple of flowers blooming on an island in the Fox River just outside Batavia filled me with thankfulness for the wonder of nature and my place within it. The voices of a crew team practicing in the near dark of a chilly fall morning and rising out of the fog over the river reminded me of the commitment to excellence I desire as well as of all that goes on around us that we cannot see, including God’s hand in our lives. Two deer bounding across my path in the woods of North Aurora generated a feeling of unity with all of this earth’s creatures. By focusing on the feelings and thoughts these events brought up for me while cycling, I had experiences similar to those I longed to achieve when trying other meditation techniques. My consciousness actually rose to another level.
Once I became aware of the fact that I was entering a meditative state while cycling, I could consciously use that time to my benefit. For instance, I could choose to focus on my breathing. When I did so, I often would find that I had to start with huge deep breaths to open my lungs. On many days it felt as if I had hardly been breathing before mounting my bike, and the deep breaths were difficult to take.
When we feel stressed or upset or angry, we often hold our breath. In fact, many of us hold our breath even when nothing very upsetting is happening in our lives. Doing so affects our health as well as our ability to experience our feelings fully.
So, I often begin my ride by breathing as deeply as possible. As the deep breaths become more comfortable, and as I feel my body relax, I slowly begin breathing in a more rhythmic and normal fashion. I then concentrate on my breath, watching the circular motion of the breath as the in and out motion becomes one continuous cycle. If I find myself breathing very heavily from the exertion of the ride, I again concentrate on my breathing, this time trying to slow it down and make it more relaxed.
If I am feeling fatigued from the ride or if my muscles are beginning to hurt, I concentrate on those places in my body that are straining. It is easy to become caught up in the difficulty of the ride and to begin wishing that I had finished the ride. However, this only serves to make completing the ride more difficult. Instead, I concentrate on the pedaling motion, keeping it rhythmic, and on the muscles relaxing into the motion. I imagine them getting stronger and less fatigued. I see myself and my legs, for example, feeling more energized with each turn of the pedals. As a result, the pain and strain diminish and the remainder of the ride feels easier.
On days when I notice my mind particularly absorbed in negative thoughts or dwelling on disturbing circumstances or encounters, I consciously direct it to creative thoughts or affirmations. While riding, I determine where I want my focus of attention, choosing something in particular that I want to create in my life. This could be anything from better health, to more patience, to a better relationship with my husband. I imagine what it would be like to have what I want and allow my mind and my emotions to become absorbed in this vision.
Most often I travel a circular route between my home on the east side of Batavia and Geneva’s Fabyan Park. I like crossing the river there, because I enjoy the beauty of the area and the route is one easily completed in 30 or 45 minutes (which on most days is all the time I have for a ride). I found that whenever I turned south toward home along the west side of the river, something always inspired me to pray and offer gratitude to God. Now, each time I take this route, I spend five or ten minutes reciting prayers out loud, sometimes even singing in gratitude for everything from the sun shining on the river, to my health, to the prosperity and abundance I experience daily, to the groundhog that ran into the bushes as I rode by.
When I find it difficult to keep my mind trained on one area of attention, or when I cannot get my mind to empty itself of thoughts for any amount of time, I use affirmations as a form of meditation. I repeat a positive statement over and over again to the rhythm of my pedaling. After a while this mantra becomes a way to quiet my mind.
During the winter months, the cold and traffic and other obstacles can make it more difficult to achieve the meditative state I desire. And so far, I have not been able to achieve these meditative states on my windtrainer (This is not to say that with practice of attention and focus I, or anyone else, might not be able to do so.) For now, I wait impatiently for signs of spring: my chance to gain a stronger, healthier body — and the centered, peaceful mind that comes only with regular meditation.