What connects Dr Martin Luther King Jr., the year 2020, and bike touring?
At first sight, asking this question must put me in contention for the so far non-existent prize of “Most Blatant Demonstration of Bathos 2020”.
Two very serious subjects – Martin Luther King and the year 2020 – followed by a trite one: bike touring. Bathos at its purest and most pathetic.
But let me make my case.
Let’s start with 2020, a year like no other.
As we do in December of any year, we can focus on the ‘what happened?’, the ‘what did I do?’, and the ‘what should I do next year?’.
But what is more interesting in this year is ‘what did I learn?’.
And for me, the Number One answer is: to understand and obey the fierce urgency of now.
This year, above all others, has demonstrated the importance of living in the now rather than deferring to tomorrow. It has shown that what you take for granted now can be precious or unattainable tomorrow.
Let me give a small example. For years since moving back to Europe, I have taken it for granted that I could visit my parents for the weekend. I could be at their place in four and half hours door-to-door.
And what did I do with that opportunity? Did I visit every fortnight, every month like a dutiful and grateful son?
No of course I didn’t. I made excuses. I ‘got on with my life’. I managed to go there two or three times a year.
Until I couldn’t.
Until that bastard little bug stopped me and screwed up every aspect of our lives.
And borders were closed and trains were cancelled. And stay indoors.
What did I do when the borders re-opened in late June? Did I seize the moment and book the next ticket to London and get as close as social distancing rules and a face mask would allow?
No of course I didn’t. I glibly told my parents that I would come in early August (and booked the train ticket). Because it was only six weeks away and what could possibly go wrong? I had other things to do: a bike trip to Brittany…
And then suddenly it was all too late. My train ticket rendered redundant by new UK restrictions less than 48 hours before I was due to travel. To protect the UK from Belgian infections… Quarantine requirements.
I have been kicking myself and cursing myself ever since.
And you?
Because this year has been about all the things that you could do at any time. Until you couldn’t.
The museums you could visit, the holidays you could take, the friends you could see, the family you could visit, the air you could breathe without a mask, the trains you could use without thinking, the borders you could pass through without blinking. Until you couldn’t.
The thousand things that you found yourself pining to do during the fifty days of the hard lockdown yet you had never found time to do during the previous five thousand.
And during that brief summer lull as life edged back to semi-normal, did we go? Did we run out of the house before anyone changed their mind?
No of course we didn’t. We planned it for tomorrow. We took a lie in, because we could leave the house whenever.
Week upon week, new restrictions, new alarms. So we are going back to the pining.
If there is one thing – one thing – that this testing year has taught us, it is the importance of living in the now, doing what you can do now rather than postponing to tomorrow.
So let’s turn to Dr King.
In 1967, in a sermon on the Vietnam War, Dr King stressed that:
We are now faced with the fact that tomorrow is today. We are confronted
with the fierce urgency of now. In this unfolding conundrum of life and history
there is such a thing as being too late. Procrastination is still the thief of
time. Life often leaves us standing bare, naked and dejected with a lost
opportunity. […] We may cry out desperately for time to pause in her passage,
but time is deaf to every plea and rushes on.
Yes, he was talking about Vietnam and civil rights, but is not the same message true for our lives right now?
For many, this year has been a desperate crawl. I salute you and hope for a better 2021.
But for many others, this year has rushed past. I can never remember a year that seemed such a blur. I can remember the intensity of March, but what else?
Life is rushing past so we need to seize it with both hands.
We must live, live, live with the fierce urgency of now, not knowing what comes tomorrow.
You might have 10,000 days left to live; you might have one.
The friends and family that we care about can be suddenly ripped from us without a chance to say goodbye.
Not just from COVID but from the thousands of other ways that we manage to die: cancer, leukaemia, pneumonia, road accidents, house fires…
Buildings get brought down, forests get destroyed, landscapes ruined, peoples go to war.
So don’t wait.
Seize the opportunities as they come.
Live within the here and now.
We are gifted with dawns that others do not live to see.
Tell her you love her even if she doesn’t back.
Give your kids a kiss.
Call up an old friend.
Pick up a musical instrument and play. Badly. Who cares?
Pick up a pen and write. Badly. Who cares?
Write trite and bathetic blog posts. Who cares?
But live, live, live in the fierce urgency of now.
And so I come to bike touring. Sorry.
Because.
Because to be out there on a laden bike in an alien landscape is to be alive.
To feel your heart, your lungs, your legs, your arms, your sweating skin. Alive.
To see, to hear, to smell new sensations. Often sublime. Sometimes mediocre. But all of them telling you a story about the world you live in.
To meet or see new people, to hear their stories, to imagine their lives.
To live in the now. Because you might have 10,000 days left to live but you might have one.
So buy that touring bike and get out touring. You might never have another chance to see that landscape, admire that building, sit peacefully with those people.
You might even find love…
So don’t postpone a moment longer. As the precious liberties return, get out there, kiss the fresh air and do it.