Riding in War-Time

I haven’t ridden my bike for a while; changing jobs and travelling turning me into a stress case. But this morning a cancelled meeting opens up a chance to spin, so I rise at dawn and roll onto the road.

Fitness is gone, bike complains about being left alone so long, I pedal through traffic and up into the hills. The sun is out but threatened by clouds to the south, and I am glad I rode early today. Little rattles from the wheels and frame remind me of my inefficiencies, let loose by weeks of sloth.

Rising up to the top of the hills I glance behind like Lot’s wife and nearly turn motionless myself as the valley opens up before me, sun shining in the north and wispy clouds moving in from the south.

Up to the top, I turn again–pause in place as silence envelops me, wind whistling softly past. The hills rise in sets to the south, each a different shade until the last blurs into the cloudy sky. And life itself waits for a moment; a hiccup in time and my anxiety melts–I float in the air. Pause for just a moment, then glide down back home, changed.