Just listen to the air:
The tranquillity, the isolation, the sound of silence.
I listen to the air every single time I go cycling.
Every single time I spend at least four hours on my carbon saddle,
Every single time I navigate seventy miles on the Pacific Coast Highway,
Battling headwinds, stray ocean mists, and crazy Los Angeles drivers,
I listen to the whistling wind and my singing wheels to get away from it all.
Away from all the stresses and pressures of life,
Away from all the bad and the unnecessary,
Just remember that distance is the key.
I fight it all to get to that level of intimacy.
Some mornings I peer over the peak of a mountaintop,
Into the dark restless sea,
The Sun’s illuminating fingers light up all that is dark.
I become conscious that I’m wide-awake and so alive –
The closest thing to a paradise.
It is then that I realize that nothing can bring me down,
And that this mountain is the very thing keeping me up.
At that moment, the air says,