Although the calendar tells me it’s the end of July, the weather outside my door seems to suggest I’ve bypassed a couple of months and have found myself setting off for a ride in late September. I’m wearing a long-sleeve shirt underneath my bike jersey to make the chill in the air more palatable. There are thick clouds overhead suggesting potential precipitation, but six miles into the ride a patch of blue sky appears so pure a mere momentary glance upwards induces a reflective urge to turn away as though I’ve glimpsed the divine.
12.5 miles into the ride and I’ve reached the crest of a long climb. It’s time to turn around and head back, but unlike other days, I’m not eager to return to the homestead. I would like to keep riding, heading west until the sun sets; I want to escape.
I push the pedals with a sense of urgency and determination. My odometer indicates I’ve just reached 20-miles; I know I’ve got another 5-miles of relatively flat road in front of me and I’m working hard to keep my speed steady at 19.5-20 mph. A pot of stew and homemade biscuits will be gracing the kitchen table this evening and will be most welcome when “mom”, my wife and her brother’s family sit down to sup, converse and laugh.
Life is good.