Political fights. Social media arguments. Endless headlines about what’s wrong with the world and who’s to blame. It’s easy to get caught up in it—and I’ll admit, sometimes I do.
But I’ve found a way to quiet it all.
I get on my bike.
When I ride, I’m not thinking about the latest outrage or who said what on the news. I’m thinking about my breathing, the next curve in the road, how the sun feels on my back, or whether that hill up ahead is going to burn my legs. The noise fades. The world slows down. And for a while, I remember what really matters.
Riding gives me perspective.
It reminds me that most of what we’re arguing about isn’t nearly as important as we think it is—not in the grand scheme of things. The birds don’t care about politics. The road doesn’t ask how I voted. The wind doesn’t play favorites. When I’m riding, I get to just be. And that’s a rare gift in today’s world.
I remember a ride back in 2016 that really brought this home. I was somewhere just outside Baton Rouge, Louisiana. Tensions in the country were running high—there had been unprovoked attacks on police, and you could feel the tension in town. When I finished my ride and went to grab something to eat, the atmosphere was heavy. People were guarded. Suspicious. Everyone seemed on edge.
But while I was on the bike that day, none of that existed. The road was peaceful. The air was still. It was just me and the ride. For those few hours, everything was simple again. Balanced. Safe.
The miles don’t fix everything. But they ground me.
By the time I get home, I’m usually in a better headspace. Calmer. Clearer. Less reactive. And more thankful—for my health, for the ability to ride, for the chance to see the world from the saddle instead of a screen.
So no, I don’t ride to escape reality.
I ride to remember what reality actually is.
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