For a long time, I'd wondered if I could somehow create a presentation about the traveling I did by bicycle that would contain all the stories I loved to tell about bike touring. After I received an advertisement in the mail about a Solo Performance Workshop, I signed up with the idea of creating a bike touring "solo piece."

While I wasn't able to finish the class due to health issues, I did manage to create an introduction. Keep in mind that this script is meant to be spoken aloud, which explains some of the punctuation and formatting.

Set up: Touring bike in a bike stand on stage surrounded by loaded panniers.
Concept: To do the entire performance while pedaling a bike held by an indoor bike exercise stand.

Title: Pushing My Weight Around

A couple of years ago, just after I stopped working, I made of list of the things I wanted to do for the rest of my life.

There were maybe 20 things on the list.

I did water colors, not very well.

I learned to play the saxophone, not very well.

I read the 10,000 pages of the 14 volume set of The Story of Civilization. It took a couple years. But I could only do that once.

Then, I rode a bicycle from SF to LA and discovered that riding a bicycle hundreds of miles carrying everything I needed made me very happy.

I was riding on Highway 1 down the Big Sur Coast, one of the premier bicycling spots in the whole world.

It was like I'd evolved into some kind of hybrid animal, half human, half mechanical.

I wasn't riding a bike so much as the lower part of my body now seemed to have wheels.

I could almost feel the tires as they made contact with the road.

I was floating over the undulating terrain.

It was so quiet, I could hear bees buzzing among the sweet smelling yellow flowers crowning the bushes that lined the road.

Out of nowhere, a speckled bird popped up and let fly a glorious call which I completely understood.

Roughly translated, it said "Let those who can hear, listen to my song."

It made perfect sense.

The road is perched on the broken edge of the continent and goes along a series of valleys separated by huge headlands ending in cliffs that plunge into the ocean.

Everywhere is color.

To my left, up the sides of the hills is growing every shade of green and yellow.

To my right is a roiling explosion of blue and white that contains colors I'm sure haven't been named yet.

It was just me, the quiet, the beauty, the moment.

I turn a corner and come up to some road work where a young CalTrans worker stops me and, after looking at my loaded bicycle asks

"What are you going?"

"I'm riding down to Los Angeles."

"I could never do that."

"I couldn't do it either, until I started riding a bike all the time. The hardest mile you'll ever ride is the first one. I couldn't do what you're doing."

"What do you mean?"

"Working 40 hours a week. There is no way I could spend 8 hours a day at a job day after day. It's something I'd have to train for. I'd have to work my way up to it. You seem to be doing it without trouble."

"You gotta be joking."

Actually, I was quite serious. I find it odd that people see riding a bike 5 hours a day as something out of the ordinary but spending 8 hours a day at work as completely normal.

(to the audience) I'd like to stand around and talk, but I'm just about to head off. So, why don't you ride with me for a while and we can continue our discussion.

(pick up panniers and start putting them on the bike)

You know, this is one of the pure moments of the entire experience.

The planning is done, the route has been mapped out, the gear is packed, the bike is in tip top condition, my body is ready and the only thing left to do is get on the bike and go.

(get on bike, clip in, and start pedaling)

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