Like Riding a Bike

Isn’t it amazing how riding a bike is like…well…riding a bike? You really don’t forget. After not owning a bike for decades, I find it simply incredible that I can hop on my new set of wheels and set off on an 18-mile ride as if I’ve been doing it every day of my life. Sure my legs were a little wobbly when I dismounted, but what else in life has such staying power as those bike-riding skills?

Why does our muscle memory hold tight when it comes to this one activity? How I wish I could recall the Spanish I could speak almost fluently in college or the American Sign Language I took while living in Texas with the same speed and ease. Heck, I’d even settle for just being able to recall why I walked down to the basement. (Pssst…It was for a roll of Scotch tape.)

The fact that there is anything at all that I can remember without effort is a gift. As I peddled and coasted, wind in my hair, beautiful scenery all around me, I felt almost giddy, much like I did when I was a little girl and would ride at breakneck speed down the hill near my home in Pearl River.

My renewed love of bike riding got me thinking, and it occurred to me that there is at least one other thing that can be a bit like riding a bike: prayer. There is no Catholic—or former Catholic—for whom childhood prayers aren’t second nature. It’s like saying your own name. A little turbulence on a flight and suddenly the words of the “Hail Mary” come tumbling out. A request to join together in prayer at the spur of the moment, and the “Our Father” is on everyone’s lips. The Sign of the Cross, grace before meals, the “Glory Be”—they are part of Catholic DNA, a spiritual fingerprint we just can’t erase.

Those childhood prayers are a little like the Catholic version of coasting downhill. No heavy lifting or pumping is required. But when we inevitably have to come back up the other side, it’s not always so easy or rewarding. Our lips may be moving but we feel like we’re standing still, like our spiritual chain has slipped from the gears and left us stranded in the middle of nowhere.

When you don’t feel God’s presence, and the familiar words of childhood don’t seem to be helping, what do you do? The same thing you would do if you were on a bike and snapped the chain or popped an inner tube. Call for help from a family member, a friend, someone who could get you back home.

And so it is in spiritual life. When we get stuck, when we feel lost, we need to call for help, not only from those people in our actual lives who can walk with us during the difficult parts of our journey, but also those saintly companions in the spiritual realm who will pull us along from the other side.

Of course, we need to pay at least a little attention to our equipment over time, whether it’s a bike that needs tuning up or a prayer life that needs tending. When we neglect our prayer life, like a bike left out in the rain to rust, that trusty muscle memory will only take us so far.

So go dig out your bike, oil it up, and take it for a spin, and while you’re cruising along, amazed by what your body can do, why not turn it into a moving meditation?

When I was cycling on the bike trail recently, the rhythmic movement set against the sound of a lone woodpecker left me smiling and quietly giving thanks to God for my many blessings, a prayer powered by the peddling.   

Mary DeTurris Poust is a retreat leader, public speaker and author of six books on Catholic spirituality. Visit her at at: www.notstrictlyspiritual.com.