It started with our introduction to an unsung hero, Dr. Joel Fuhrman, M.D., and an extreme diet change 3 years ago. Now, I am proud to say, with the exception of being enthusiastically altered from time to time after drinking champagne or a few ice cold brewskies, I have not been medicated for any illness at all in 3 years. Not even for a tiny little cold.
The only doctor visit I make is to my friend, the genius, Dr. Khelly Webb (http://www.centerforhealinglife.com) for an occasional chiropractic tune-up which clears the road blocks and traffic jams through the nervous system allowing the brain and spinal cord to communicate more freely with the rest of the body's cells. I love my brain and spinal cord so much. 
All this is to tell you that when we came home from France, we made the decision to navigate our lives without a car, and without even realizing it, propelled ourselves further along into the aforementioned journey.
I remember clearly, the conversation we had, when I felt myself commit to this. We were living without a car in France but we didn't have bikes. We discussed how much more at ease we both felt not being in the car all the time and mapped out how we could do this once we got home. We'd rent an apartment close to the bus lines that could get us both to work. We'd make sure we were close to parks to see nature's green stuff instead of concrete all the time in order to maintain our sanity. Mati would get his bike all tuned and cleaned up and I'd get myself a brand spankin' new one complete with baskets. And that was it. We committed.
Most of the time, I feel a lonely sense of freedom when I'm on the road riding my bike. There are people all around me but we're all separated from one another by large steel moving containers. They can see me and I them, but all I hear is the roar of the tires on the pavement. We make eye contact to confirm nobody will be injured, then go our separate ways. I've been hearing and reading about Long Beach taking actions to create "the most bike friendly city in the nation" but for now, its a lonely ride.
I see others on their bikes enjoying the outdoors and exercise but I relate to the car driver more, because we're doing the same things; running errands, buying groceries, going places. I don't actually love bike riding, in fact. I might ride for recreational purposes from time to time, perhaps to see a pretty sunset or go to the beach, but I don't love riding for the sake of riding like some people do. The bike has two wheels and it gets me places faster than if I walk. That's why I ride.
And on the up side, I didn't absolutely love going to the gym either, but I did so for my health and now I don't even need a gym membership because I'm always pushing the damn bike around town with my legs or lifting it up and down stairs.
My legs are as strong as they've been - even when I was lifting weights. I have a sense that my body is doing something it was designed to do. I've lived half of my adult life in the gym, pushing around weights or riding stationary bikes or treadmills or stepping up and down on boxes.
When I was training as an athlete for a basketball game or some athletic event, it felt okay. When I was in the gym just to stay in shape, my perspective began to shift. It seemed silly a little, that I would drive my car to to the gym, to "work" my body.
But if I want food, I have to ride for it, and that incentive inspires me to get out there when I would have otherwise chosen to camp out at home watching movies. If I had a gym membership and a vehicle, I'd have easily rebelled and opted for another episode of House, M.D.
Humans are smart and creative. "Work smarter, not harder" is a phrase I often hear tossed around. We're very good at that. So much so, in fact, that we've set up a society of moving house vehicles, comfy couches, remote controls, computers and cell phones. We have set up our lives so we don't have to move really at all and we don't have to think much for that matter.
We don't have to actually roll down our windows in the cars anymore, we press a button. We don't have to walk up stairs, we take the elevator or escalator. We don't have to remember phone numbers, they're programmed into our phones. We've completely outsourced all the jobs our bodies used to do. As a result, our bodies are in the same crisis as the American jobs market.
Driving a car has its virtues, of course. But today, had I been driving for meals instead of riding, I would have missed Wilson High School's marching band funkin' out to Give Up The Funk or the rather wise man who cleans up the tree scraps in the park and then kneels prayerfully to sleep in the grass for the entire day or the man in the Bronco who said, "You go girl" as I rode by or the gas man who happily volunteered that he, too, rode his bike to work today.
For these experiences, I'll gladly get up and ride again tomorrow.
You've got a real type of thing going down, getting down
There's a whole lot of rhythm going round
You've got a real type of thing going down, getting down
There's a whole lot of rhythm going round
We want the funk, give up the funk
We need the funk, we gotta have that funk
We're gonna turn this mother out
We're gonna turn this mother out
Until next time,
Be Well Little Cell,
Ruth and Matthew
For these experiences, I'll gladly get up and ride again tomorrow.
You've got a real type of thing going down, getting down
There's a whole lot of rhythm going round
You've got a real type of thing going down, getting down
There's a whole lot of rhythm going round
We want the funk, give up the funk
We need the funk, we gotta have that funk
We're gonna turn this mother out
We're gonna turn this mother out
Until next time,
Be Well Little Cell,
Ruth and Matthew
