I was walking my dog along the track next to the railway line with a view to crossing at the designated crossing point. This point was gated and awkward to get through as it was a swing gate enclosed by a metal surround. The type that discourages any other crossing, any other traveller than those on foot.

As I approached I saw a team of cyclists and witnessed their struggle, along with their commitment, trying to negotiate the gate.
Blocking my way, they took a significant amount of time to get through, each dismounting, lifting their bike high above their head and then manipulating both the bike and the swing gate as best they could.
Each one waited for the one behind.
Each one apologised to me for making me wait, but not wanting to hold up their peers, each one carried on with dogged determination, instead of perhaps allowing me to pass through.
A type of calm came over me once I had silenced the part of my brain, the worrier, that was shrieking at their selfishness.
The last two to go through the process was a father and son. The boy was struggling with his bike, too heavy really for him to raise aloft whilst manipulating the gate. The father tried to lean his bike on the gate post in order to help his son, but it would not balance.
I stepped forward and held his bike and our eyes met in a camaraderie that made me feel whole, feel compassion and feel human. They were a team, a group, a tribe and for that second I felt part of something much bigger.
It felt good to be in the human race even if I question my fitness sometimes to compete in it.