Church of the Two Wheels

It’s been a long time since I last joined the congregation for a day of woodland piety but on Saturday I went to church. Yup, the Church of the Two Wheels. Where the flock turn pedals on the bike, not pages in the bible. Where the house of the holy is lined with single-track not wooden pews(though, those saddles can be equally uncomfortable after a day of riding). A place where the holy spirit of the trail guides us forth while we lean forward over the bars, praying to the dirt gods.

Because of a nagging foot injury, I’ve not been on the mountain bike since March. But on Saturday, a day that for the past twenty years has been Paul’s Dirty Enduro mountain-bike event, I joined six dear friends for a five and half hour ride in the Ganaraska Forest. (three more started later and did a shorter ride) In true biblical form, the rains poured all day. It was magical and I felt great. From the first turn of the pedals at the trailhead I knew my foot would be fine. As for my mind and soul, I felt as though I was back to myself; on my mountain-bike, in the woods, with friends.

With the rains, the sandy trails were in amazing condition, the traction divine. Since those trails are not very technical, my foot was only tested that one time I crashed. Otherwise, I just rode my bike, bent over the bars in prayer, feeling the blessings of the forest rain upon me, the holy land rolling beneath me. Truly, it was heaven on earth, my faith restored.

Back at camp, we laughed and hugged and munched on tasty snacks. Stories from the day were recounted with the fervor of a southern preacher. Ali had a variety of t-shirts made to honour the ride..the church…our faith. Our faith is strong, for we are the church of the two wheels, millions strong the world over, one turn of the pedals at a time.