Biking Through the Darkness: A Lesson in Effort and Consistency

When I was 14 years old, there were a few winter nights that I’ll never forget. A few nights during that winter, I found myself riding my bike home under a sky as black as coal. The air was cold, the kind that bit at your cheeks and made your breath visible in the night. My hands gripped the handlebars tightly, and I could hear nothing but the hum of my bike tires against the pavement.

Photo by Kiwihug on Unsplash

My bike wasn’t anything special but had a dynamo attached to the front wheel. This little dynamo powered a small headlight that could barely cut through the darkness. The catch was that the light only shone brightly if I kept pedaling. If I slowed down, the light would flicker and fade, leaving the road ahead shrouded in shadows.

So, I learned to pedal harder. The faster I went, the stronger the light grew, illuminating the path in front of me. I could see the trees lining the road, their branches reaching out like fingers in the night. I could make out the familiar turns and curves that led me closer to home. But whenever I eased up, even just a little, the darkness crept in, making the journey feel longer, the road less certain.

I remember focusing on the rhythm of my pedaling, feeling the strain in my legs, but knowing that each push kept the light alive. It wasn’t easy, especially when the wind would…