Don't Get Off The Bike

A few years ago, I picked up cycling to exercise and get out more. It's been amazing. I've really enjoyed distance cycling traveling far and wide on my bike. It’s given me peaceful time to think. I've learned a lot of lessons on my bike -- some of them about cycling, but most of them about Christ.

When I got on my bike, it had been many years since I last rode one. I didn't think much past pedaling and getting used to it again. I was sore, confused at the best way to handle some roads, and not well balanced but it didn't take long before it all felt natural. It reminded me of watching investigators in Armenia after baptism -- starting off a little unsure, finding some things are easier to get used to than others, eventually finding serenity and joy.

My new bike also came with features that were new to me: It used levers pushed sideways from the handles to switch gears that were much easier to use than the twist handles from my teenage years. The clank and crunch of moving into a new gear felt odd at first but learning to lower and raise my gears properly as I sped up and slowed down greatly enhanced my experience. This reminded me of service in the church, where giving myself over to a calling or assignment made church more intense and involved, like moving to a higher gear, but gave me greater fulfillment and satisfaction as a result.

For a long time, I just enjoyed my new commute. Eventually I wanted to bike long distances in different parts of the world. I began to train for touring on my bike, going on longer and longer rides until I could travel dozens of miles in a day. My training went well but I did not realize I was missing something very important. Most of the areas in and around Buffalo where I biked are very flat. The slopes are gentle and the hills are short. I would sometimes shift down a few gears to make the cycling easier during a tough stretch but never into the lowest gears. It didn’t seem necessary.

Eventually I went on my first touring trip to Prince Edward Island. My brother and I were cycling from one end of the island to another. Not very long or extremely challenging, but I was looking forward to the multiday trip.

On the very first day there were very heavy winds, but I would not be stopped. I had trained in heavy winds. Later in the day there was heavy rain, but I would not be stopped. I had trained in heavy rain. On the next day, however, there were hills.

These rolling hills were steeper and much longer than what I had gotten used to on my rides. The slope was not extreme but they took a while to get over and I grew tired quickly. My legs ached so badly that I didn't think I could take it. I did what every cyclist says to never, ever do on a tough climb:

I got off my bike.

I began walking my bike up the hill, and I realized very quickly the many good reasons I was cycling and not walking! Instead of the wind whipping around me and cooling me down, the sun beat relentlessly on my face. Instead of flying along to my destination, each step presented so little progress! When cycling, the bugs couldn't keep up with me, but trodding up the hill I was now easy prey.

Life had been better on the bike.

My brother rode up beside me and looked at me walking my bike up the hill. He looked down at my gears. He shook his head and said "Why did you get off your bike? You're not even in your lowest gear?" He was right. There were gears on my bike so low I'd never used them. I’d never had to. I would just shift to my lowest back gear and never touch my front one.

In my pride, I dismissed his criticism and waved him off.

The hills that day were miserable, and I was a worse cyclist for it.

As the world continues to struggle with a pandemic that drags on, it isn't the first or last long, hard hill that the world collectively and we individually will have to climb. There may be longer and steeper ones ahead. How will we handle them? When our faith is tried and our spiritual muscles ache, it becomes very tempting to get off our bike. In the hard moment, we become convinced that stepping away from our hard effort will give us relief. It’s tempting to think that not attending Sunday service, not serving in our calling, not ministering to others, not reading the scriptures or giving ourselves over to prayer regularly, will give us relief when we feel overwhelmed with the world around us.

But it will not.

The sudden instance of losing responsibilities may seem like a relief at first, but very quickly the sun beats down, the bugs catch up, and our personal progress slows to a crawl. In losing the struggle we lost the joy of the whipping wind and the road melting away behind us. We realize too late and deny in our pride the truth: It is never better to get off our bike.

Then, what to do? When our muscles ache and we can't continue? When it's all too much? We can’t pedal one more stroke. We're simply too tired to keep it up.

There are lower gears. I learned that I’d gone so long without using them, I’d forgotten they were there or wasn’t familiar or comfortable switching to them.

In lower gears, it’s easier to push the pedals. We may go a little slower during a challenging stretch, but critically it allows us to not get off our bike!

What are the 'lower gears' of the gospel in challenging times? It can mean leaning on counselors and helpers in our callings. It can mean sharing with our spiritual leaders the challenges we're facing. It can mean increasing, not decreasing, the time we spend in the scriptures and prayer even when that time is hard to find. It can mean reaching out to priesthood holders for a blessing of comfort. If you're not sure what it can mean to you, it can mean talking it over with your bishop to figure it out.

Yes, we need to preserve our own light to share with others, self-care matters, but ironically focusing too much on preserving our light over sharing it is what causes it to dim. We are forewarned: 'The first will be last and the last will be first.'

The Master taught this exact thing, to double down on the good work for relief: "Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light." Matt 11:28-30

The next day on my biking trip, I swallowed my pride and dug down to my lowest gears. It made a world of difference and, most importantly, it kept me on my bike. I'm grateful for the chance I had to learn the ironic lesson. I could not give up the struggle, I too badly needed the blessings of the effort. We all do.

Doing the work in whatever capacity we can handle it, even a reduced capacity, is infinitely better than stepping away from the work entirely. Don’t get off the bike.