Ride On

According to my calculations, I should be in Canada by now, somewhere up along the Gaspé peninsula, or perhaps in the Laurentian Mountains. But instead, I’m still in my apartment, tallying up the miles I’ve logged on my exercise bike.

I do about 12 miles a day and as I’m pedaling I make these calculations in my head, thinking about the many places I could be if the bike actually had wheels. 

I started using the bike a while ago. It’s the latest manifestation of my desire to stay in shape. I’ve never been an exercise nut, by any means, but I’ve tried to pay attention to maintaining some kind of physical activity.

Ever since I’ve been sober, I’ve known that alcoholism is a mental, physical and spiritual disease, and I’ve tried to address these aspects in my recovery, too. 

For me, the physical has always been the hardest. In high school and college, I was an athlete, always playing some form of organized sports and staying in shape that way.

But, as my drinking increased, my physical activity decreased in direct proportion, and about the only exercise I ever got was the occasional softball game in the park in the summer where it was really more about the beer that we all drank than any meaningful workout. 

It took a long time in sobriety to recognize how out of shape I really was, but somewhere along the line a friend of mine invited me to play a casual game of basketball with a group of his friends.

Expecting I would automatically rise to the occasion, even though I hadn’t done anything for quite a while, I quickly found myself completely wiped out after barely 10 minutes of running up and down the court.

I really thought I was going to die and had to excuse myself to go lie down on the gym floor. But, it got my attention and I have tried ever since, with varying degrees of success, to maintain some kind of regular physical activity.

I’ve tried jogging outdoors, but it never seemed right for me. I’ve had periods where I’ve used the weight room and the track at my college alma mater, but my commitment ultimately waned as the price of the gym membership increased over the years.

For a while, I was able to induce a friend of mine into a weekly racquetball game, though difficulties in scheduling cut that enterprise short.

Then I had a long stretch of jogging on a small trampoline in my apartment each morning, though eventually the springs on the trampoline started to snap and after going through a number of replacements, I decided it was time to stop. 

So far, however, the bike has been a success. And while it hasn’t actually taken me to Canada, it has provided me with the opportunity on a daily basis to address not only the physical aspect of my recovery, but also the mental and the spiritual, as it affords me some time, after my imprecise mileage calculations, to reflect and meditate on things.

I don’t always relish this opportunity to address my recovery, however, and there are days I wake up dreading the idea of getting on the bike. Nevertheless, if I can push through my resistance, I always feel better, or at least none the worse for wear. 

So, while I recognize that I will never actually reach Nova Scotia or the St. Lawrence River no matter how many miles I log each day, at least I’ve found a way to keep moving forward in my recovery.

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