I worked for a shop called Sunrise. The owner of said shop explained that he had chosen that name for a couple of reasons. A) He liked the idea of a beginning. Cycling held a deeper meaning to him than just pedaling to race and he wanted his shop to be an emblem of that. And 2) It was the only shop on the East side of Main Street.
The Spanish word for sunrise is Amanecer. Like all cross language meanings, amanecer has a few. In Chile, where I learned the brown man’s tongue, it was often used in terms of partying. To say, “Amanecimos ayer” meant you partied all night and didn’t stop until the sun came up. This was often used as a way to judge a party. If it didn’t amanecer, it wasn’t worth attending.
The meaning that I was always fascinated by (yes, I am fascinated by word meanings and the nuances that are used through colloquial speech) was the use for an “awakening.” Not that waking up is that cool, but when that meaning is tied to the sunrise it takes on a bit of a different hue. The Sunrise is an Awakening, a break from the day before. A new way of looking at things, an “amanecer.”
Many people like to take the arbitrarily assigned date for the New Year and look back on what was and look forward to their new beginning. I prefer to wait until February or March. For starters, there is no way I am getting up January 1st to go for a jog. It just isn’t going to happen. I don’t like to set myself up for failure. So I wait until the weather has warmed a bit before looking back. It tends to give me a bit more of a happy lookout on life. And if I decide changes are in order it gives those changes more of a chance to succeed. Plus I don’t like arbitrarily assigned dates that I am supposed to live by. If someone is going to arbitrarily assign something to my life, it will be me.
About this time last year, I was in one of the worst funks I think I’ve ever been in. I guess you could call it depression but I think that may be a bit strong of a word. It was a funk, a rut. Nothing I was doing seemed like a good idea and nothing I could do seemed any better. I tried making some changes, they didn’t help until…
I traded a set of wheels that had hung on a road bike in my shed for about 9 months for the crazy blue bike. And then I rode the thing. It brought me right out of the funk as quick as a month of commuting can. I then spent most of the rest of the year cleaning up my messes that I had made for the few months before that.
This past Monday was a stark realization that the demons I have buried under years of alcohol consumption aren’t buried very well. A simple photograph or a memory can bring them raging to the surface and propel me deep into the spaces in between. This past Monday was also a reminder of how important riding my bike is for my mental health. A simple 26 mile ride can bring me back quicker than anything else.
And I guess that is what it is all about, riding. A simple realization that forward motion propelled by one’s own power can be an awakening…
P. L. and R.
