Bicycling, like flying, is an extension of our mind. In dreams we fly through forests passing swiftly between trees down gullies and over rises. We never touch the branches, wings never hit the trees, faster and faster, the senses are keen, the judgment analytical at first, then natural. The right moves, back on the stick, lean to the left, float, gliding through the air, over the ground, one with the machine, understanding the design, the subtleties, the success, the challenge and the potential cost of a mistake. But our mistakes and the mistakes of many others get us to where we are. Their mistakes and successes were transferred to us and applied properly work and are proven again. In dreams we float over the ground. I have floated over the ground, the ground no longer a barrier for we were one, the machine making the dream a reality. My mind knew I could do it and taught my muscles how to make it happen. Ah, the sheer wonder of the path. Through the woods, up and over roots, rocks, meeting the challenge. Air supports the wings, subtle movements, shifting, leaning, and pure exhilaration. On the edge, how smooth and comfortable, heart pounding with exertion, the cool breeze. Each component selected, each component works, each one a finger, a part of the human form. The mind accepts it as such and sends us to complete the puzzle that makes flight possible. So easy to meet the challenge now, so complete.