Escapism. Denial. Call it what you want.
Therapy. Masochism. We all do it.
Each turn of the pedals removes logical thought; with each stroke to be replaced by the freedom of an empty mind and burning lungs.
Tunnel vision ensues, and tunnel-thoughts follow. No need to think further than the top of the climb, no need to reason, other than the reason of getting to the top. The destination isn’t a place, but a feeling that can only be achieved by the journey. Mental and Physical.
It isn’t rapture, or solitude, that you’re seeking. You’re seeking the joyful hurt that can only be enjoyed in retrospect.
The top doesn’t even matter today – thoughts of an Esher-esque eternal climb; your introspection doesn’t wish to cease.
But the top does arrive. It always does. As it approaches you can only hope the clarity you’re seeking arrives with it. Revolutions of clarity.
But like the arrival, the destination is temporary. The clarity is short lived. You embrace it, watch it slip away, and know it will take less burn in your lungs and fewer circles of legs to get to the same place again.
But you wont pedal slower, or breathe softer.
You’ll pedal faster, lungs will burn deeper and the top will be further away.
But you’ll get there, and the clarity will be worth it.