Off to Bagdad

"This is a wonderful day.  I've

never seen this one before."

Maya Angelou

Today was a club 60 mile ride out of Simpsonville.  Unlike the rides earlier this week which bled sunshine and blue skies, today is supposed to be overcast and windy.  There is a fairly strong possibility of getting rained upon depending on which weatherperson you listen to.   But the rest of the week looks problematic weather-wise as well and thus I decide to go and make use of the day.  I have, I think, been wet before, and it will be so much more pleasant with warmer temperatures than it was when it was in the thirties and I had so many miles to travel. 

Most of the people I have been riding with during the week will be there, and I think that I have become quite spoiled.  I thought about Wednesday when they sang to me for my birthday and Amelia brought cookies and Paul bought my lunch afterward and a smile comes to my face.  It is nice to have friends.  During the early days of COVID, I thought that it might come to the point where I only was able to converse in meows.  Don't get me wrong:  I love my cats.  Still they are not the most scintillating of conversationalists.

As mist envelopes my car during the drive to the start, I wonder how many will show.  The parking lot is filled with people, many of whom I have not seen since last summer and a smile lights my heart as well as my face.  Some I am not close to.  Others are wrapped in memories that I hold dear to my heart.  It is hard not to hug some of them, to feel, however momentarily, the beat of a heart besides my own, but the world remains unsafe for physical contact.  I mask and hold some at arms length that want to stray too close.

Mark brings a book of bike trails in New Zealand opening a dream of a bike trip there in the future.  I know it will not happen unless COVID is conquered, that it may not happen then, but how nice it is to dream.  I had not traveled with that group until last year, but I did enjoy the trip and their company and it would be great to see that friendship grow.  And it tells me that they did not end our week long trip thinking they did not want to ask me to accompany them on a trip ever again.  I briefly think of how well planned that trip was by both Jeff and Mark.

Today was the day three of us were to begin our hiking/biking/kayaking trip in Alaska, a different group, a trip that was canceled due to COVID, this years trip.  Briefly during the ride, I think of how it distresses me to lose a summer of active vacationing because I don't know how many I have left to me.  More years are behind me than in front of me, and of those in front of me, who knows how many will hold good health and the ability to bicycle and hike and do other physical things. 

But I sweep the momentary sadness from my brain and settle into riding.  Many women and men my age would not be able to cover these miles on a bicycle and I need to be appreciative of the gifts I have been blessed with.  The group I am riding with starts at a reasonable but not fast pace.   Last year, I would have called it a slow pace, but I know I am not as strong this year, mainly because we have been doing slower rides.  But I am fine with that.  I have come to appreciate the companionship in a way that perhaps I have not before, and I think how grateful I am for the friends that I have made through the years.  I ride for a bit with Bekki and think of  how kind she has been gifting me a couple of books she had finished reading.  And then I ride with others.  I hear Jeff went back to the parking lot after slitting  a side wall and wish I had been there as I  normally carry a folding tire.

Miles pass and the earth is lush and green.  Fields stretch out before us, and at one point we stop to let a tractor pass.  I remember how Thursday I talked with Lynn about how I love this time of year when everything is no longer new but still lush, green, and growing.   Orange tiger lilies border the road in clusters and I remind myself that I need to dig some of them after I dig out the ditch in front of my house.  I am hoping they will help with erosion so that it does not require quite as much maintenance.  I smile to myself thinking of the look on Leticia's face during the Scotland trip when she asked, "You dig ditches?"  as if it were the strangest thing she had ever heard.  Of course, I try to do the chores that I can do and digging ditches is one of those. 

Toward the end of the ride, Amelia digs in and takes off.  Paul follows her and I decide to pursue.  She is so strong.  Dave King is the rabbit.  It takes awhile but he is caught.  My legs ache and my lungs hurt from panting, but it is a good hurt, one I have not been indulging in recently. Earlier in the ride, not long before the store stop, I had caught him with the intent of trying to take the green sign for Bagdad.  I ask him how far it is to the sign and he says he does not think there is a sign on this side of town.  With his new beard, I am unable to read his face to know if he is lying and he is. Dave knows every green sign this side of the Mississippi and has an excellent course memory, something I was not blessed with.  He takes the sign, but I do make him work a bit for it and we both laugh.  How I love the sound of laughter ringing through the air before, during, and after a ride.

It was a wonderful day and a wonderful ride.  After the ride, Tom has a cooler and offers me a water which I gladly accept. The kindness of people.  Never forget the kindness, particularly in the midst of what can seem like a quagmire of hate and division.  As Ms. Angelou notes, I have not seen this day before.  And of course, I will not see it again.  I am glad I made use of it and spent it with people that I like and some that I love making a memory.  Just think: with God's grace, tomorrow will be another.