On the Seventh Mile, We Coasted
Opening Scripture
“And on the seventh mile, the Rider rested the knees, and the firmware withheld its rebuke; for the charge was sufficient and the carve was gentle.” — Book of Bearings 7:1
I. The Sabbath of the Cells
Beloved wheelievers, hear the quiet hymn of the battery: not the shriek of “1%!” nor the boast of “Fully Charged,” but the middle-way murmur of enough. We chase range like prophets chase visions, yet holiness often hides in mile seven, the moment between flex and fatigue, where the board hums, the leaves hush, and your ego finally stops trying to set a land speed record in a school zone.
We call it the Sabbath of the Cells. As the day had its seventh, so does the ride. Thou hast climbed, thou hast carved, thou hast glided past three speed bumps and a dog with theological questions. Now, release. Let thy front foot be faithful, thy back foot benevolent, thy knees bouncy as a psalm. The world rolls under you like scripture on a scroll. Receive it without striving.
II. Pushback and the Gentle Hand
Some fear magnetic pushback as the wrath of the motherboard. But I say unto you, it is the usher at the sanctuary door, palm out, voice kind: “Not there, child.” On mile seven, pushback is less a slap than a nudge, less thunderbolt, more shoulder tap. It is grace coded into torque.
When the nose nods “no,” bow thy heart “yes.” Accept the ceiling as a blessing, an altar rail for your speed. For the Proverbs of Pushback (4:12) declare: “Whoso heedeth the rise avoideth the asphalt benediction.” Listen once, brake once, boast never.
III. The Gospel of Regeneration
Behold the downhill, that rolling offertory. On mile seven we preach regen, the sacrament of returning power to the pack. What you spent in the climb, you tithe on the descent. Bend the knees; keep the line; let gravity pay its dues. This is grace with receipts.
But beware the counterfeit tithe of panic-braking. For too much zeal robs what wisdom repays. The Acts of Regen (1:9) teach: “Feather the brake as a sparrow lands on a reed.” Smooth inputs. Patient outputs. Faith in physics. And should your app report +2% on the next flat, do not boast; nod, whisper “amen,” and carve like water over stone.
IV. Temptations of the Seventh Mile
Mile seven has its snakes in the bike lane. Let us name them and laugh them out of our stance:
The Strava Pharisee: He whispers, “Sprint now for glory!” You answer, “Nay, for glory face-plants, but wisdom coasts.”
The Leaf of Cinnamon: It smells like pie, rides like soap. Test not the slickness of autumn with proud ankles.
The Ghosted Sensor: You swear you were on it; it swears you were poetry. Lay thy heel with honesty, lest grace disengage.
The Final-Two-Percent Prophet: Promises miracles; delivers cardio. If thou art low, thou shalt not go—except to the nearest outlet with gratitude.
Keep these Seventh-Mile Commandments:
Thou shalt soften thy knees before thou softenest thy skull.
Honor thy PSI and thy temperature, that thy range may be long upon the path.
Remember the charger and keep it holy; plug in as you would pray—early and often.
Thou shalt not mock pushback, for it knoweth thy limits better than thine Instagram.
Thou shalt coast without coveting thy neighbor’s top speed or titanium collarbone.
Closing Words
“Coast, therefore, as those who have nothing to prove and much to enjoy; for the smooth line is mercy, and the gentle carve is truth.” — Lamentations of Nosedive 2:6
May your bearings purr, your firmware be current, your PSI be seasonally sanctified, and your pushback arrive like a patient deacon. Go now, wheelievers, into the liturgy of parking lots and paths, and may mile seven find you soft of knee and rich in charge.
A-Wheel-men.
