Of Super Powers, Kryptonite and Salvation
The sun has set on my road trip. I returned to Portland last Friday just in time for the freakshow that is Pedalpalooza to erupt. Pretty much I went straight from car to teaching my yin yoga class, to the Wend Magazine (a super rad adventure magazine for and by “ordinary people doing extraordinary things”) release party, featuring a good old fashioned ping-pong tournament. What was so cool about this scene was knowing probably half of the guests in attendance. Hundreds packed the Lizard Lounge overflow space, drank up the free beer, crossed their fingers for raffle prizes and tried to remain upright. I had the biggest, goofiest grin on my face and a twinkle in my eye, and when people said “Welcome home” I thought: I’m back, but far from home.
Home is where the heart is, and I left mine strewn all over Central Oregon. On singletrack and teeter-totters, by the river crossings and alpine lakes, up high on Smith Rock and Meadow Crags, on the deck where I did my morning yoga practice outside in the warm sun with the toasty scent of baking pine needles, along Cascade Lakes Highway and in several brewpubs, in countless little scenarios and events that pushed my little crush on Bend into something far more serious.
When I set out on this trip I wasn’t sure what I’d find. I knew I needed a change, but not sure exactly what. Unplugging from “regular life” to drift across the Western U.S. and ride my mountain bike seemed like the best way to figure it out. My itinerary was shot to hell pretty much the moment I started and Plan B quickly became Plan B, rev. 32 soon enough as weather drove me out of the desert solitude I sought. But wasn’t that part of the idea? To simply raise my sails and let the wind take me where it would?
I let myself be guided by chance and randomness the first few weeks, but my intuition kept pulling me back to Bend for a longer stay. And one thing I’ve learned about intuition is not to go against it. I think intuition is like a latent super power that everyone possesses but not all choose to use. And people, if you don’t use it, you lose it. I spent most of first 30 years of my life insisting I didn’t have an intuitive bone in my body, but when I think back now I realize I just chose to ignore it, deeming it irrational. I’ve made some absolutely retarded decisions that went directly against intuition and paid a high price for it. But since I’ve tuned in to this internal compass I’ve never regretted honoring it.
Super powers should not be squandered or taken for granted. Ignoring one’s intuition is akin to Superman making himself a Kryptonite-enhanced Kryptonite smoothie with Kryptonite berries and a garnish of Kryptonite for breakfast.
Okay, so intuition is not as glamorous as say, telekinesis or mind reading, but it’s a pretty useful super power, albeit a humble one.
Speaking of superpowers, here’s a trailer for an odd little film tat won at Sundance last year and really deserves a viewing. Check it:
In the meantime… back here in Stumptown, Pedalpalooza kicked off with a street parade on Saturday, followed by a fast, fierce criterium that exacted some blood and bone sacrifices, and culminated in the World Naked Bike Ride which was hailed as the largest ever, with approximate 5000 naked(ish) riders! For the next two weeks there are bike-centric events all over town, daily. Some are silly, some serious, but the general theme is: More fun with bikes.
And while Portland is THE place to be for a bike party of epic (and yes, I do mean epic) proportions, my intuition told me to move to Bend part-time post-haste. Never one to argue with either intuition or Janky (who refuses to do road rides in Portland any longer), I’ve rearranged my work schedule to teach in Portland Monday through Thursday, leaving a long weekend in which to continue healing Janky on the sweet singletrack and rocky crags of Central Oregon.
Maybe that’s the book I should be writing… Saved by Singletrack: Seeking Salvation in Church of Bike.
What shall our commandments be? You tell me. No seriously. Post a comment. So come on. Let’s hear it. I want to know. Leave a comment, or if you prefer send me an email at [email protected]
And on that note, I’m out like an size-7 hipster’s butt crack in size-5 skinny jeans.