It’s raining tonight, so I left my bike in my office and took the bus to my dance class. That was a big step for me. My knees are aching as I sit here, but nothing short of water pouring from the sky will keep me from it.
I’ve been riding almost daily since the thaw in January and I can hardly express how much it means. The happiness associated with deciding, each morning, whether the weather will be good enough. Checking the radar online several times, sometimes wondering whether I can beat an oncoming system. Inevitably, I go for it - like a little kid. I ride while it is snowing. It is pleasant, actually - nicer than rain. I love the feeling of bouncing down my front steps, legs held straight as I balance through the turn at the bottom. The ache in my thighs as I push up the first real hill. The wind in my hair. The burning in my lungs. The sudden memories of being in that same place on my route, a month ago, thinking then that I was going fast and strong, and realizing how much faster and stronger I am today. The bridge where I cross the river, coasting slowly each morning, looking at the ice flows, or the surface of the water. The fast, deep turn to face the massive brick brewery on the hill, gothic and industrial. The climb past the technical college and over the crest of the hill, feeling each day the real impact of my night’s sleep, my dance classes, my previous rides - sometimes buoyant and unbelievably strong, sometimes tired, sore and forced to be gentle. I turn and ride towards the Cathedral. I slow down for the students, and then accelerate down into our loading zone, loving the days when the ladies who smoke aren’t there, so I can smoothly run my leg over the seat, balancing side-saddle on one pedal and, just at the door, pull the hand-break, skidding out the back tire to one side as I finally touch again the dust from whence I come, and to which I will someday return. But not today.
Pedro The Lion - Priests and Paramedics 10.7 MB
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