Things learned through thought and conversation often need to be consolidated by some type of physical activity. For me this can be cooking or washing up, the hot water over porcelain or glass is curiously restful, but many weeks I use a long ride on my bike to push thought down into the background rhythms of my body and make it my own. Friends who run long distances say that running performs the same function, but I prefer to get out and ride. I can go farter and keep up the effort much longer. For me a long ride is anything over 80 km, but preferably longer, 120 to 140 km, and occasionally I will do a century (100 miles or 160 km).
I generally set up some themes for each ride, things I want to have in the background as I push my legs around in circles. This could be a bit of math or logic, Cantor's continuum hypotheses and Zermello's axiom of choice are themes I have used on rides in the fall of 2008. Or it could be a business problem or personal issue I am working on - how to grow and support the people I work with or how to knit deeper my relationship with Yoshie. Sometimes I will try to blend two different themes on the same ride and then use a line from a poem or song as a prompt or point of distance reference, something to come back to as the pedaling begins to wear me down or a hill gets steeper. When the themes are something I grasp poorly, as is often the case with mathematics, logic or certain algorithms, or when I want to be precise and need a memory aide, I will often jot them down on a piece of paper I can shove in my pocket. If I need to I can take this out and glance at it while I wait at an intersection for a light to change, but often just writing something down is enough to fix it in memory long enough for the ride.
I can't say I am thorough or methodic in the way I think while riding. That is not really the intent. The goal is to get things working in the back of my mind, and as the effort grinds on, usually about 80 km in, ideas begin to drift and associate and become part of the sensations of the ride - the wind or rain, sun, sweat, road grit, in the summer bugs, in colder seasons the sting on my face and slight pain in my lungs. This let's loose coalitions of ideas from, how the axiom of choice implies a kind of freedom in infinity, or how my own growth and performance depend on the people I work with. I sometimes see images from Yoshie's photo blog flash up and blend into the textures of the road surface or flow beside me in the light flickering through the trees or off the water. It is not just the way ideas drift together and form new connections that is important, or the way the sensory flow smoothes things together. Riding helps me to think by linking ideas deep into the repeated pattern of movement, the muscle effort of pedaling and guiding the bike around the small dangers on the road surface - loose gravel, pot holes and ruts, the car brushing by too close or coming out of a blind corner not concerned with cyclists. It is the drifting thought, the physical work, and the peripheral flow of sensory information that calms and let's the ideas come together in new and deeper patterns that I can use in my work.
In Vancouver I like to ride from Kitsilano out to Deep Cove and sometimes up Mount Seymour. Or if I am too tired for this, I go south down to the fishing town of Steveston, where the ride along the Richmond dyke is especially lovely. In Boston I tend to head west, out the 117 past Bolton and down the 110 to the Wachusett reservoir. Or on some summer weekends I will take a train north to Beverly and then ride up through Ipswich to Newburyport and out to Plum Island then back down through Essex and around Cape Anne. These are all good roads, long enough to get into a rhythm, enough variety to keep the mind alive, and the car drivers on these roads tend to accept the odd cyclist.
For me, learning requires the integration of many different modes - physical and sensory as well as abstract and concrete thought. Cycling is one part of how I do this. Of course I need to talk to people as well, and conversation is important, but at times I need to be alone with my body in the world.
