Everything New is Old Again

I thought about having a contest to see if anyone could identify this motorcycle. The owner thinks it’s a 1967 Suzuki 160cc dirt bike. My research leads me to believe it’s actually a 1970 Suzuki TC120 II. Not that it matters all that much. What it is, for sure, is an old bike that seems to be in pretty good shape considering that it was probably run hard and put away hot for most of it’s life. If anyone can tell me for SURE what it is, that would be great.

The sighting of this old Suzuki happened on a recent reunion with old friends. Old friends. Pre-running friends. Motorcycling friends. It was great to spend time together remembering what it was like “back in the day”. We were young, then. We were full of life, then. We were filled with the enthusiasm and naivete’ of an earlier age. The road of our lives was in front of us and – we believed – stretched well beyond the horizon.

Today we’ve ridden into that horizon for 30 years. We’ve seen what lies beyond the horizon. We’ve ridden into the storms of life. We’ve ridden through them. We’ve had breakdowns and setbacks. We’ve had flat tires. We’ve been stopped in our tracks and yet we’ve found a way to repair ourselves and go on.

What has repaired me, and what continues to repair me is being active. What that means has changed over time. Being active used to mean running nearly every day. Being active used to be doing two, or sometimes three workouts a day. It used to mean racing nearly every weekend. It used to be 4, 5, or 6 marathons a year. Like that old Suzuki, many times I rode myself hard and put myself away hot. In those days it seemed like the only joy, the only release, came in nearly total exhaustion. It seemed like the only way to silence the demons – or tame the Gremlins as Rick Carson calls them – was to push myself beyond my imaginary limits.

My running has changed in much the same way as my motorcycling has. I go more slowly. I stop more. I find satisfaction and release much farther back from the edge. The more I faced the demons, the more I’ve been honest with myself about why they became demons in the first place, the more I realize that I’ve always been fighting with my own shadow.

When I run today I’ll run with a lot less weight on my shoulders. My waist may not be the same size as it once was. My pace may not be as fast as it once was. But, my soul is lighter and more free than ever. I look back at the old me with the same mix of curiosity and wonder as I looked at the old Suzuki. I’m sure that, at the time, everything about that motorcycle made sense to someone. I’m sure that the way I was living my life back then made sense to me.

But, I don’t want that old life, or that old Suzuki.

Waddle on, friends.

John “the Penguin” Bingham, Competitor Magazine columnist Author, The Courage to Start, No Need for Speed, Marathoning for Mortals and Running for Mortals.

Have a question for John? E-mail it to thepenguin@johnbingham.com.