Life is hard and we all need to make space for joy. For me, that's on my bike

This is a First Person column by Mohamad Bsat who lives in Hamilton. For more information about CBC's First Person stories, see the FAQ.

The alarm went off at 4:51 a.m. on a Monday, and I reluctantly got out of bed to savour every last drop of summer riding. 

I'm a legal aid clinic lawyer in Hamilton who works on housing issues primarily. The work I do is daunting — often with low-income folks pushed to the margins or facing homelessness — and it carries with it a lot of vicarious trauma. That's why I've realized that seeking joy in other parts of my life is important, not only to maintain my sanity, but ultimately to make me a better advocate for my legal aid clients. And, for me, active rest is an act of rebellion against my desk job. 

I've been riding a bike everywhere that it could take me for the past 33 years: Calgary, Kikino and Grande Cache in Alberta, Ottawa, Portland, Halifax, Belleville, Ont., Toronto and, eventually, Hamilton. Where I lived, the bike lived. It's served multiple purposes. I've ridden a bike for transportation, to sight see, to save me money, to stay fit and for races. 

My bike has given me joy, freedom and pain. I've been in four nasty bike crashes, but I still keep coming back. I like to say pain is temporary and suffering is optional. And in spite of that pain and suffering, riding a bike has been about exploring something new in me. A desire to see how far my legs can take me and to kick me out of a rut. 

I have been an avid cyclist for years but like a lot of folks, I bought a new speedy bike during the pandemic lockdowns to find another way to experience the outdoors. I've also been a runner for years, but sometimes, things can get stagnant and you want to experience something new. I wanted something that pushed me outside of my comfort zone — an endeavour that is entirely new, something that scared me, like when someone said to me, "Do you want to ride 300 kilometres?"

When I pedal, I feel the stress of my job melting away. In that moment, my worries fade as I ride my bike 60 km/h down the hills of Sydenham Road in Hamilton or a sketchy, steep gravel road in Ontario's Haliburton reserve. 

My most recent crash was mid-September during a bike race in Haliburton. I promise you, I was not thinking about social justice work when I was careening into the rough gravel road. The thrill of the race opened something entirely new in me. It allowed me to be completely present in the moment, feeling unbridled joy and fear. What's the point of being alive if you don't try things that scare you? 

As soon as I fell, all I could think about was scrambling back on my bike as fast as I could so I wouldn't lose any time. The experience humbled me and made me want to experience cycling through racing, pushing myself to see where my limits lay. 

Over the years, the bicycle has been a conduit for joy, bringing me freedom in whatever way I need in different moments of my life. Today, as I navigate a new chapter — a new city, job and friends to bike with — I'm glad I've carved out that space for myself on the roads that are waiting to be explored. 

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