"Blossom by blossom
the spring begins."
Algernon Charles Swinburne
It is not truly spring yet, that happens on the calendar this week-end, but the weather we are having is spring weather. More like May than March actually. And it is with delight that I decide to ride my Hardinsburg Century. This is one of my favorite routes. It is demanding, but not overwhelming and traditionally I like to ride it at least once in the spring and once in the fall. The lunch stops have changed as stores have opened and closed since first I passed that way, but I check on Facebook and Thursday is Little Twirl's opening day.
Jon has said he will join me and we head off into the chill of the morning knowing that by the end of the day we will have performed a slow strip tease, shedding layers as the day progresses and warms. Sunshine is everywhere. The first of the daffodils are blooming. Peepers are singing their raucous voices filling the air with sound. Jon sees a caterpillar. I see the first of the butterflies. And eventually, yes, I get a bug who flies into my face, welcome only because it means the world awakens. I am glad that I remembered to attach my sunscreen to the bike. I caution myself to remember to use it when we stop for lunch.
It is the first time in awhile that I actually want to take a drink while riding. I rarely drink enough when I ride, but in winter and cold it is even harder. Ironically, the water seems much too cold in winter, and in the summer it becomes much to warm to be tasty and I would prefer it to be ice cold. In my mind I laugh at myself as being just like Goldilocks. It is never just quite right.
The miles roll by quickly but I can't say that I don't notice the climbs that other than Leota Hill largely start after the first store stop beginning with Short's Corner. I think of how I have suffered on these climbs, but yet I still wonder how people can prefer the flat urban rides. There is such beauty here. I am grateful to Jon for his patience on the climbs because it is not a day where I want to have to push my pace. I want to savor the weather and the coming of spring, to notice earth as she yawns and begins to adorn herself in life and color. And I want to build strength in a reasonable way that leaves me wanting more, not less, riding. I want to prepare my knees for a long summer of hills and rides, not zap them out by overly taxing them before they are ready. And I get my wish.
So many memories, disjointed and from different rides, assault me throughout the day. I have shared this route with so many over the years. This was the route where Paul said how much he loved the view after on particularly steep descent that is wooded but ends in a valley where you can see for along way. I remember the amazement in his voice as he asks, "You don't ride here alone, do you?" I remember how one December ride, Steve Sexton and I walked our bikes down that descent, Cox Ferry, due to the gravel laid down for the snow that was making our tires slide while a few others were brave enough to ride. I remember the first time I climbed the hill and the men working on the road bet whether I could do it and the time I was descending and a deer ran alongside next to me for quite awhile as I prayed it would not veer into the road.
I remember Mike Kammenish twirling like a ballerina outside Little Twirl and the smiles on everyone's faces. And I remember and remember and remember, short memories, certain turns in the road, bits and pieces flitting through my mind in the midst of silences as memories tend to do. And now I am making new memories, Jon and I riding comfortable talking or comfortable in silence because we have somehow, through all the miles traveled on bike and on trail, developed that kind of friendship.
Swinborne is right. Blossoms confirm that spring has begun. How glad I am that I have been blessed with another spring and the health to ride a bicycle and welcome it. It is one story I never tire of seeing unfold.
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