Long before I started using a bike as my primary mode of transportation, one of my favorite quotes has been about bikes.

“Life is like riding a bicycle. To keep your balance, you must keep moving.”

Attributed to Albert Einstein, this simple metaphor teaches that, despite unfavorable circumstances that come our way, we have to learn to adapt to change and make an effort to persevere rather than just sprinting away from our pain.

It’s been a little more than four years since I started bike commuting, and a little over a year since selling the family car. Between my mom’s death and today, I’ve experienced several changes in my life, and most of them have been for the better… at least for me.

If in part one of this series I said I started bike commuting because I wanted my mom to have full access to her car, and in part two, after her death, I said I’d continue showing up for the bike community, part three is more of a reflection of how I’m showing up for myself now, and how the act of cycling has been teaching me to sustain momentum.

Those who have lost a loved one close to them may understand the reality of going on autopilot while emotionally floating in a vacuum. We’re forced to move forward, sometimes faster than we expect. Loss and grief hurl us into a new world, and even if we said we prepared for it, we’re hit with one too many things all at once.

So I tried to find an escape hatch through cycling. I joined whatever community ride or long ride I could join and afford. I just wanted to get out of the house. But grief has a much faster average speed, and sometimes it catches up with me, and I find myself angry, confused, and on the verge of tears that people notice. I thought cycling could be a distraction, but it just made things worse. I wanted to quit-bike, sell my bikes, and isolate myself. But how can I quit something so integral to my life?

I had to slowly learn how to live alone and get used to not having someone to come home to. After a long ride or a hangout, I’d always make kwento to my mom. She was genuinely curious about where I went, who I was with, and what we all did. For a while, it was disorienting to arrive at a dark and empty apartment, fix up a quick dinner before showering, and then open a can of beer while browsing on Netflix or Crunchyroll. I eventually got used to it, of course, and now that I’ve resumed journaling again, I can at least record the events of the day.

Living alone has also enhanced my cooking skills. With how eating out can be expensive nowadays, I’m starting to enjoy cooking, even if it’s repetitive at times. Related to cooking is grocery shopping. It’s a short bike ride to Unimart, but I look forward to shopping for my food and thinking of what recipes I plan to make. I’m usually out Friday nights, and if there’s no event on Saturday, I stay in bed, order takeout, or read or play video games all day. And during the week, if I feel like biking out for coffee, I could just do that.

Another thing that’s changed is that I attend church service now. I dedicate my Sundays to bike commuting to church. It’s a nearly seven-kilometer bike commute, but it’s worth the trip.

And recently, I’ve taken up collecting vintage mechanical watches (thanks, Leandro) and fountain pens (thanks, Nadia). Wearing a watch encourages me to look at my phone less, and the latter inspired me to create a journaling ecosystem that is now helping me get out of my blogging block and back to reading books.

Life eventually became more structured in its fluidity.

If you’re thinking I’m no longer into bikes and stuff, nope; far from it. Bike commuting is an integral part of who I am as a person. But it’s no longer my only outlet. In fact, it’s what opened the door to these other activities and interests, while teaching me to be far more discerning with my time and energy, and with whom I choose to share them.

It used to be my form of escape… to get out of the house because I couldn’t stand the silence and the solitude. Now, I’m embracing a life settling into itself and being content with it. My life is expanding, and yet it’s comfortable. Where in the past I was always in a hurry to get things done, now I’m at pace with myself.

And slowly being at peace with myself.

So, why do I bike now?

I used to bike to get away, but now it connects me and keeps me steady.

I bike because I now move in and around a life I actually enjoy coming back to.

Feature photo by Leandro Mangubat