A Perfect Week-end

“Treasure the ones you love.

 Tomorrow is not promised. 

Cherish the time you have with the people 

who matter the most. Enjoy and appreciate them. 

Make time for them. Love is action.” 

Akiroq Brost

What a week-end it has been.  I am tired but deeply content having spent the time with some of those who are important to me and that I cherish doing activities that are important to me and that I love and cherish.  What better combination than that? 

Saturday, Diana and I  hiked about 12 miles of the Knobstone.  During the hike, she reminded me that last year we had just finished our through hike this time of year.  The red buds beginning to bloom, wild flowers shyly opening, a haze of green hovering lightly at the tree tops, filled with the promise of what is soon to come.  We chance upon a patch of my favorites:  trillium.  How is it that I did not notice them until adulthood?  But then, my parents did parties and social gatherings.  There was nothing of the outdoors about them.  Yet still, their concentration on the social scene left me to my own devices and free in a way many children are not.  I spent much of my free time in the woods surrounding our house on three sides, exploring more than I was at home, even having the police called a few times when I did not return in time for the evening meal after I headed out following breakfast.  Were the flowers not there or did I just not notice them?  There were no deer in those woods at that time having been  hunted out. Maybe, I think, we notice different things at different stages in our lives.  But I really don't know if that is true or just one of the many thoughts that streak through my brain when questions arise.

Regardless, I am glad that Diana and I have become friends, and I cherish our time together.  She has become one of the friends that I love and admire.  We tromp the woods at a comfortable rhythm, sometimes conversing and sometimes in an agreeable silence.  We both are surprised running into a group of six young Amish hikers, backpacks filled to overflowing, straw hats on their heads, hiking sticks in hand.   In fact, we run into more people on the trail today than we did in the four days it took us to hike through last year.  Her husband has been kind enough to drop us off at one trail head in the morning and pick us up at another in the afternoon, even bringing a bottle of crisp, cool water.  

Sunday is a reunion of the friends I used to go to Texas Hell Week with when there was a Texas Hell Week.  I was beside myself with joy when Steve said Dave was coming. I have ridden with Steve this  year and I have ridden with Bill this year, though not together, but I have not ridden with Dave at all this year and I have not ridden with all of them as a group.  While I worry the slowness of my pace might be an issue, I know I will cherish this ride before it ever happens because I know I cherish these three men.  All of us have changed since we began riding together, but hours spent in the saddle on remote roads, facing the challenges that distance cycling brings cemented our friendship.  Each of them has a piece of my heart, and I think that each of them knows it.  In fact, while they would die before they would admit it, I believe that I have a little piece of each of theirs.

The weather is perfect and the course seems perfect for not having ridden much distance this year.  Nobody presses the pace and everyone seems content just to be together. There are enough hills to make it challenging, but not so many that the end becomes a death march due to unseasoned legs.  There is conversation all around me.  Some I participate in and some I merely listen to, and I send prayers to heaven for allowing me this day.  We arrive at the lunch stop and the man taking the orders is a bit concerned seeing that we are cyclists.  He said that the prior year a group of cyclists came through.  "Jesus," he said, "they were riding a hundred miles."  Bill tells him we are riding a hundred miles, but then reassures him there is a not a large group coming in behind us.  We all know that it was the club's Tour de Mad Dog he was referring to.  I giggle and giggle throughout the ride remembering the look on his face and how he told Bill he could never ride a hundred miles.  Of course, he could, but first you have to overcome telling yourself that you can't.  Randonneuring has taught me now much of riding is mental, a  lesson that translates to other areas of life as well.

I am thankful for all of these friends.  Each is a blessing.  Though they may stray far, though we may not see each other for long periods of time, there is and will be a bond.  How bleak my world would be without them?  God keep each of you safe and sound and allow us to make more memories together.  Perhaps rather than each of you having a piece of my heart, you are my heart along with all the other family and friends who have so enriched my life.  All I know is my heart overflows with contentment today, despite the fact I am tired, and that I have been blessed.