Nature is Pedalling

Helmet strapped, backpack secured, AirPod in one ear, and the sound of my garage door thunking shut, it's time to head out. I roll down my driveway and use the momentum to ease into the pedals to limber up.

I take a left and follow the smooth black road of my suburb. It's mid-morning with no traffic to contend with. My mind immediately defaults to calculating the potential distance of the ride and the likely ETA of my return back to my desk, back to work which awaits. I'm certain of the time required and my work commitments and I've determined it's enough.

I playfully slalom around speed humps designed for cars and head for a local bike track. I pass one round-a-bout and then another round-a-bout which marks the proximity of my destination. As the crisp cold air begins to fuel my lungs I keep pedalling up the slight incline of the street. I feel a burn in my quads and just think about how unfit I am.

As I ride further, block by block, worry by worry peels away from my mind. My focus transitions from topics of work meetings, to noticing houses and the mix of greenery. As I begin to warm up and move through some street junctions, I’m checking over my shoulder for traffic, and each time I can smell the air, and catch bright rays of light streaming between the trees.

I take a turn off the suburban streets into a footpath that snakes down through an opening in the trees. The descent is rapid and I attempt to glide through as fast as I can. But fear gets the better of me and I start tapping the brakes to shed some speed. As the snaking path ends, it merges me seamlessly onto the main circuit.

Once again I take a left and focus on building momentum and speed. The track has little to no changes in elevation and allows me to pedal faster without too much strain. The path is lined with eucalyptus trees, the odd wooden bench, and overgrown grass. I concentrate on the horizon of the path ahead and keep pedaling.

Now a few kilometers away from home, I'm now in a very open part of the track with no shade from trees. The heat dials up and there's a wave of cicada noises coming from the field. I continue along the path. My ears are bathed in a steady stream of air, punctuated by birds chirping. Even though I had one earphone playing music, I could barely notice what was playing. I felt like a fish in a pond and the occasional sounds of nearby traffic are like food flakes hitting the surface of the water.

As I slice through an upcoming curve of the track, a flock of blush-coloured galahs takes flight in a small burst from the grass and they begin to glide alongside me. And just like that, my bike is gone, my feet are gone, and my body gone. I was one of them, gliding along filled with nothing but the morning air. Just for that moment.

I'm snapped out of nature’s trance with a notification chime in my ear. Just as quickly as I was transported into nature's depths, I was slung back into the reality of work responsibilities. I slow my pace, swing my bag to my side and grab my phone. Outlook is robotically reminding me that in thirty minutes, there’s a morning meeting that awaits me. I secure my phone back into my bag and make my way home.