Easter of the Endless Loop: The Wheel Rises Again After Every Nosedive
Opening Scripture
From The Book of Bearings, Chapter 20, Verses 1–8
And on the third ride, the rider returned unto the cul-de-sac where he had eaten pavement.
And the neighbors said, “Surely he will not mount again, for yesterday he was humbled before both man and shrub.”
But the rider laid his foot upon the pad, and the sensor recognized him.
Then the Wheel rose beneath him, and he rolled forth with fresh grip tape and slightly injured dignity.
For the nosedive is not the end, but a loud and specific correction.
Blessed is he who learneth from pushback before resurrection becometh necessary.
Woe unto him who falleth and immediately blameth firmware, for he shall repeat the lesson in public.
For though a rider may descend suddenly, the Wheel still calleth him back to balance.
I. He Is Risen, and So Is Your Confidence, Unfortunately
Wheelievers, we gather on this most holy day: Easter of the Endless Loop, when we remember the central mystery of the riding life—no matter how dramatic the fall, some man will always say, “I’m good,” and attempt to remount within seven minutes.
This is the season of renewal. The flowers bloom. The birds sing. The group chat fills with messages like, “Roads are dry, who’s down?” And from every garage in the land emerge boards half-charged, helmets lightly scratched, and riders who swore all winter they were going to be more careful this year.
Yet the true miracle of Easter is not merely that the Wheel rises again. It is that the rider does too. After the nosedive. After the wobble. After the deeply personal encounter with asphalt that made him lie in silence and reevaluate his friendships. Still he returneth.
The unbelievers mock this. They say, “Brother, the board threw you.” They say, “Maybe this hobby has run its course.” They say, “Have you considered a normal bicycle like a person with a mortgage?” But they understand not the resurrection power of a man who has watched three YouTube tutorials titled Top 5 Mistakes After a Nosedive and now considereth himself reborn.
For the wheeliever knows this sacred truth: falling is temporary, but posting about recovery is forever.
II. The Stone Was Rolled Away, and It Was Probably a Pebble
Let us not romanticize the fall, beloved. The nosedive is not majestic. It is not cinematic. It is not a graceful surrender unto physics. It is a rude interruption of self-esteem.
One moment thou art carving with swagger, believing thy stance to be chosen and thy PSI ordained. The next moment thou art horizontal, blinking at the sky, trying to determine whether thy wrist guards just saved thy summer or merely delayed a lesson. Such is the speed with which pride becometh gravel.
And yet many nosedives begin not with evil, but with smallness. A little extra speed. A touch of battery sag. A whisper of range anxiety. A rider saying, “It’s just one last hill,” as though history contained no warnings. The great calamities of our age rarely begin with thunder. Often they begin with “I think I can make it.”
Therefore the wise do not merely fear large dangers. They respect tiny ones. The crack in the bike lane. The unseen root. The little patch of loose gravel that looketh harmless but holdeth the spirit of chaos. Even the humble speed bump, which smileth like a deacon and then launchest a man into reflection.
Blessed are they who notice the pebbles, for they shall remain mostly upright. Blessed are they who heed pushback, for their resurrection shall be metaphorical only.
III. The Parable of Sister Jenna and the Second Mount
Hear now the parable of Sister Jenna, who was beloved among the wheelievers because she had strong opinions about foot placement and an even stronger tendency to ignore her own advice.
Now Sister Jenna had suffered a mighty nosedive on a neighborhood greenway the week before Easter. She had accelerated through battery sag, dismissed pushback as negativity, and trusted a Reddit thread written by a man with no profile photo and the username TorqueMonk77. Thus was she introduced unto the pavement in a manner both swift and informative.
And the people said, “Surely Jenna will take a season of rest.”
But on Easter morning she returned, clad in fresh pads, newly humbled, with a strip of replacement grip tape and the stare of one who hath seen the underside of her own decisions. She approached the footpad carefully. The sensor judged her. The board activated.
Then Jenna stood still for a moment longer than usual. Not because she feared the board, but because she finally respected it.
And when she rode again, she rode not as one seeking glory, but as one seeking alignment. Her carve was modest. Her speed was lawful. Her headlamp remained off, for it was daylight and she had become the sort of person who no longer confused unnecessary theatrics with personality.
Now when the younger riders asked, “How did you come back after such a fall?” she did not say, “I’m just built different.” She said, “I lowered my PSI excuses and raised my standards.” And many were healed.
Thus learn we: resurrection is not pretending the fall never happened. Resurrection is returning with better judgment.
IV. Doubting Thomas and the Men Who Still Blame Firmware
Now there remain among us certain doubters. Men who will witness a clean remount, a centered stance, a sensible speed, and still say, “I don’t know, ever since the update my board feels kinda weird.”
These are the children of Doubting Thomas, only with more knee pads and less self-awareness.
Understand me clearly: firmware is real. Settings matter. Tire pressure mattereth. Sensor behavior mattereth. The board is not above scrutiny. But some of you have used firmware as a theological escape hatch from the obvious fact that you were riding like a man possessed by poor judgment and springtime enthusiasm.
You hit pushback and call it betrayal. You overcook a hill and call it software. You ride on low battery, ignore battery sag, skip checking PSI for two weeks, then announce in the comments, “Definitely something off with the tune lately.” No, brother. Something is off with thee.
Leader: What riseth after the nosedive?
Wheelievers: THE RIDER RISETH AGAIN.
Leader: And what must also rise?
Wheelievers: OUR DISCERNMENT.
Leader: And what do we say to excuses dressed as technical analysis?
Wheelievers: TEST THYSELF BEFORE THOU TESTEST THE FIRMWARE.
Let this be written on thy heart and, if needed, on a little sticky note near the charger.
V. The Rite of the Holy Remount
Therefore I give unto you this week’s sacred practice: The Rite of the Holy Remount.
After thy next difficult ride—or after any moment in which thy dignity leaveth thy body before returning slowly—do not rush back upon the board like a man trying to erase witnesses. Pause.
Set the Wheel upon level ground. Brush the dust from thy sleeves. Remove any leaves that have become part of thy outfit. Place thy hand upon the fender and confess aloud: “I may have done too much.”
Then perform three holy checks.
First, check thy footpad and sensor with sincerity.
Second, check thy PSI like a grown adult.
Third, check thy spirit for traces of showboating, especially if others are present.
After this, remount slowly. Let thy lead foot land with purpose. Let thy shoulders square. Let thy knees unlock. Remain still for one full breath after activation, that the body may remember balance and the ego may experience temporary unemployment.
Then ride one slow ceremonial lap without checking thy top speed, app stats, or whether anyone saw the earlier incident. This is resurrection without vanity. This is Easter in motion.
Do this, wheelievers, and though thou mayest still fall someday—for the world remaineth broken—thou shalt at least fall less stupidly.
VI. The Empty Tomb of Yesterday’s Embarrassment
The enemy desireth that you remain in the tomb of yesterday’s fall. He whispereth, “Stay home. Be ashamed. Take up pickleball. Tell people you’re focusing on walking for a while.”
But Easter of the Endless Loop proclaimeth a better gospel: yesterday’s embarrassment hath no final authority. The witness who saw thee tumble at the crosswalk will move on. The dog that looked disappointed hath likely forgotten. Even the shrubs eventually forgive.
What mattereth is not that thou fell. Many fall. The toddlers fall. The influencers fall. The men who speak with deep confidence at the trailhead fall hardest of all. What mattereth is how thou returnest.
Return with humility. Return with softer knees. Return with respect for pushback. Return with a cleaner stance and a more honest relationship to speed. For the resurrection power of the Wheel is not that it maketh thee invincible. It is that it inviteth thee to try again with fewer illusions.
And that, beloved, is enough to make a grown rider weep quietly into his gloves.
Closing Words
From The Gospel of Grip Tape, Chapter 8, Verses 12–16
Fear not the fall, but the pride that refuseth correction.
For the Wheel shall rise again, and the wise rider with it.
Let thy remount be humble, thy sensor satisfied, and thy excuses few.
Go forth in fresh balance, leaving behind the tomb of bad form and reckless speed.
And may thy pushback be early, thy stance be true, and thy next resurrection require no urgent care.
