Field of Dreams

Growing up for me was a life wrapped around baseball. Playing it, watching it, listening to it, talking about it, and dreaming about being great at it. My father was a good player and continued playing baseball up until I was the age of 4 or 5. I can recall traveling with him to games and marveling at how anyone could become as good at a sport as he was. I followed in his footsteps and became a decent player, but made a decision to stop playing during high school. Something involving a dispute with my coach helped me in my decision. However, baseball still holds a special place in my heart. As a former catcher, I can still recall the smells of the leather on the mask, the leather of the glove, or even the dirt, itself. Certain things take me back. The movie Field of Dreams takes me back to all of those same places. If you didn't grow up in a 'baseball' house like mine, perhaps it doesn't hold the same meaning for you. The movie stirs all of those emotions in me.

So how does this parallel biking? I don't really know other than biking now occupies the same focus for me in this stage of my life that baseball once did. The playing it, watching it, talking about it, etc. Heck at the ripe old age of 42, I'm even competing in it. Problem is, I'm not nearly as good at it as I want to be. I keep thinking I'm progressing well, then I ride with stronger riders and see just how much I need to learn.

Now, the clicking of the cleats into the pedals or the smell of my helmet, replace the older sensations I had for baseball. Perhaps, mountain biking is my new baseball and any trailhead is my Field of Dreams.