The ride: Mountain biking as an analogy for relationships
By Rachel Leigh Cohen
Basalt
Shop around until you find the right bike for you.
First, ask yourself:
What kind of rider am I?
&& Where do I hope this adventure might take me?
Study the frame & its making:
the core materials, the design, the small seductive details.
Notice its playfulness & poise; tirelessly score the reports,
listen to your trusted sources,
& aim for an upgrade from what you rode before.
Remember: every bike has a body,
but the good ones have a courageous heart & a vibrant soul.
Take a few beauties for a spin,
& let them reveal their values to you
before you give them your full commitment.
Then, go with your gut for the gold.
Take time to learn its mechanics:
what it can do for you,
& what you must learn to do for it.
That’s how the ride stays smooth,
how two begin to move as one.
When you’re flying through the trails of unpredictability,
you’ll know how to lean into each other.
Before choosing a path,
study the terrain;
the rocks, the roots, the steep surprises.
Ask yourself how the needs & skills
of you, the rider, & bike will meet the demands of the day.
Check the weather:
conditions shift everything.
Hope for the best, prepare for the worst,
& never, ever leave home
without your well-greased toolkit.
You never know when a little tweak or necessary repair
might save the whole day.
When you’re out there,
keep your eyes forward
but always remember where you’ve been.
The old paths teach you
how to navigate the new ones.
Don’t tense up; that only makes it shakier.
Trust the training.
Trust the choices you’ve made.
If you fall —
& you will fall —
tend to your body first,
then to your bike.
Clean the dirt with tenderness.
Rest. Reflect. Breathe.
Let the bike rest, too.
Out of sight, but not out of heart.
While your wounds heal,
meditate on what occurred, aiming to never let that happen again.
Engage in alternative treasured activities
& allow yourself to recall joy.
When strength returns & you feel renewed with awareness,
start slow.
Ride one of your beloved familiar trails.
Remember why you chose each other.
then…
kiss,
&& make up.
(alternative ending:)
When strength returns & your heart feels light again,
Start slow.
Find a new trail — maybe even a new ride.
Remember what you’ve learned about balance & joy.
Then,
smile
&& begin again.
Artist note: I wrote this after a mountain bike crash that left me concussed & in total stillness — a lesson in patience & healing. Revisiting it to edit for publication years later, while navigating heartbreak & new beginnings, revealed that the trails we ride, both literal & emotional, are never truly separate. Love, like riding, keeps asking us to rise again, softer & wiser each time.