The Power of Showing Up: Cycling and Creativity

The Morning Choice

The crescendo of “Early Riser” plays on my iPhone, coaxing my eyes open. I fumble with the phone, attempting to silence the alarm before it wakes my wife. Wiping sleep from my eyes, I stare at the ceiling, allowing my eyes to adjust as the new day’s light filters through the curtains. For a moment, the comfort of my warm bed tempts me to return to sleep. Do I really want to go riding this morning? What would five more minutes hurt? It’s my body rebelling…against the disciplined routine of cycling. I’ve yielded to the comfort of my covers too much and know how this plays out—by 10 a.m. I’ll be staring at my computer screen, wishing I had felt the morning air on my face. This movie plays in my mind, giving me the motivation to toss the covers back and make my way to the coffeepot.  

I’ve learned the power of showing up every morning through cycling. Three months in, I realized I was no longer dreading the hills on Lindsey Merritt Road that used to leave me gasping. The legs that once burned after five miles now carry me twenty without complaint. This progress isn’t always visible, but it will come if you keep tossing the covers back. You will reap a harvest if you don’t faint. It’s true that skipping a ride doesn’t ruin you. But I know the anatomy of quitting. It starts with ‘just this once’ and ends with dust on the handlebars.

Beyond the Handlebars

This discipline from riding has crossed over into other areas of my life, especially writing. There’s something in the rhythm of pedaling that loosens the knots in my thinking, that opens spaces where words can breathe. I understand why the late Robin Williams called cycling his “mobile meditation.” These rides fill my mind with words that demand to be written.

Like viewing my stats on Garmin Connect after a ride, seeing my daily word counts growing keeps me motivated to keep grinding. It’s true my first drafts feel like training rides: messy, sweaty, but necessary. Just like races are won in training sessions, good writing comes from the unseen hours of practice. There are times when my mind rebels. Author Steven Pressfield calls this “the resistance.” And the only way to overcome this pushback is through discipline.

So tomorrow morning, when that alarm sounds and my body starts its familiar rebellion, I’ll remember this isn’t just about miles on the bike or words on the page. It’s about the person I’m becoming through the simple act of showing up. The person who tosses back the covers is the same person who opens the laptop, who shows up, who doesn’t quit.