I was looking down at the metal grade beneath my feet which I walked on. A hundred feet or so below the sight of my pink toenails and dirty feet was the Illinois River. I walked over it, not looking for too long or I'd lose my balance and topple towards the bicycle I supported with my right hand. A pick-up truck with a boat following zoomed past me and I jolted a bit, stopped, and smiled as I re-gained my balance. There was but a few feet between me and cars, and inches between the bike I was walking and the shoulder of the bridge we crossed together. It arched up a bit in that way bridges do. I encountered all sorts of little goodies along my walk across it: tattered clothing, fishing lines, old shoes, plastic something-or-others. When I reached the end of the bridge the decline in elevation had still a bit further to go. Looming over the end of that downhill was a massive incline. Fast cars whipped around a curve and I couldn't exactly tell how long that up-hill went for, but I looked at it straight on and said aloud to myself, "here I go", as I saddled up on my bike and headed straight for it along the road's shoulder.
Exhilarating was launch. I peddled hard to keep my speed while grinning a giggly grin. You know that kind you just can't wipe off? I know it all too well from any sort of downhill cycling exploration.
Once I started to reach the beginning of the incline I switched gears, and soon I switched again. I got into my lowest gear and put all my muscle into this bad boy. Pumping hard, the grin was replaced with a very serious game-face. I focused on one pedal at a time synchronizing it with steady breathing. I focused not on how difficult the hill was making my life, but on how amazing it was that I had just climbed that hill on two wheels, how God made our bodies beautiful, how I. am. awesome. Conceit, there was none of. You have to tell yourself you're awesome when you're doing something tough. Your body listens to your mind. I've been on some difficult runs through the Rockies that I wouldn't have finished if I didn't tell myself how amazing my body was through the entirety of the run. Truly. All of the sudden I was at the top of this looming hill faster than I had anticipated. It was amazing that I had climbed that hill so thoughtfully, reaching the top, then as soon as I put my mind to rest rolling along flat road my body started to weaken. I felt shaky and light-headed. I could hear my body, "alright Mind, I heard ya', I listened to ya', we got up the hill. Now listen to your Body and make a little pit stop, woodgya?" You got it.
I pulled over and lay flat on my back in the grass staring up at the opaque Midwestern sky. It was white with deepening pale-blue waves throughout. There is no more a satisfying moment than accomplishing something with your mind and your body in cahoots with each other, and then stopping to nurture them both. I drank my water, I ate my Cliff bar, and I reveled in the beauty I was surrounded by as my body slowly repaired enough to bike my way back to my campsite.
Each time I do something like that I remember why I love riding my bike, running, hiking mountains that peak in the sky. There is a deep connection with body, soul, mind, nature, that these things force you to have if you want to succeed.
With each of these things I am brought close to my Lord.
"For you formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother's womb.
I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.
Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well.
My frame was not hidden from you, when I was being made in secret,
intricatly woven in the depths of the earth."
PS. We are God-breathed dirt. We are formed from this earth. We are intricately a part of this earth. This is no metaphor, God-breathed dirt. This is what we come from. And if you want to know any of the amazingness of dirt I recommend "Dirt! The Movie" (Netflix, man), but more so than this incredible substance that covers the earth from which we were made, we are also made in His image and God-breathed. No wonder we have such a connection with nature.
Take care of your God-breathed body. It's sacred. Even more sacred than the earth we live in. Don't litter the earth, don't litter your body. For you are fearfully and wonderfully made.
