Part 1 (cycling to Brownsville, TX): the five states of cycling being

A lone cyclist thinks about many things on the road--where his next stop is going to be, how much water he needs to bring, what car is going to try and run over him next, etc. Every once in a while, however, a thought emerges that considers something outside of the routine, at times mundane circumstances in which the lone cyclist finds himself. This lone cyclist invites you into his innermost psyche--a glimpse into what a guy on a bike thinks about for hours on end.

I present to you all the five states of my cycling being:

Gritty McGriterson: I imagine Gritty as an old farmer or war veteran. Gritty doesn't complain or groan about the unfortunate circumstances that unfold in front of him. He just stares down the road ahead, steel eyed, chews on something, spits and says "well boy, it's time to get a move on." Gritty is pragmaticism meets will, and he'll never back down from anyone or anything, given good reason. Gritty is nails.

The Happy Buddha: The Happy Buddha, on the other hand, could care less about nails or will or pragmaticism. The Happy Buddha emerges as a supremely enlightened and blissful state of being most often after a good rest and a good meal. Sitting high in his seat with a smile radiant upon his face, the Happy Buddha could ride through a mine field--or midday traffic on a busy highway (almost the same)--without so much as a care in the world. The Happy Buddha is one with traffic and considers speeding, careening vehicles purely as emanations of false objective realities. He laughs at cars.

Grog: Grog grunts at cars. He is my usual morning state, arriving in the early hours as some sort of prehistoric caveman. Grog, descendant of "Grogginess", can ride for hours straight in the morning. He feels little emotion and absolutely no pain. He cycles so well because of a not-so-conspicuous lack of self-consciousness, and would respond to any vehicle or driver with an appropriate "Grog pedal" or, on his more eloquent days, "Grog pedal fast". Of all my states, I'm probably most thankful for Grog. He's always there when I need him.

Rolls: Rolls is actually cousin to both the Happy Buddha and Grog. Rolls, as his name would indicate, just rolls. He is me at my best--when my mental state is both calm and clear and my body functions with ease and fluidity. I find myself in a Rolls-state only after hours of cycling. Rolls is a man of action but always extremely considerate of the balance between his own being and the world around him. He is the patient, smiling and determined self that I strive to be on and off the bike.

The Wince: At every other moment, I'm firmly entrenched in The Wince. The Wince is a fish out of water, flopping painfully and gasping for air. The Wince is the pain in my ass traversing its way across my entire body and into my mind. The Wince is a full body-soul shudder--a punch to the gut of my very being. I despise The Wince, but I understand and value The Wince as a starting point for other, more desirable states of being.

I have too much time on my hands.