A Solitary Ride on a Windy Day

"Follow your heart.  Do what you love.

Because I was constantly struggling with 

that.  If it's in your heart, go for it.

Don't listen to other people."

Maz Jobrani 

 

Perhaps it should be, but it truly is not difficult to decide whether to go to Louisville to ride or not because I don't like the course, and unfortunately, the shorter ride today mirrors the longer ride.  I realize it is not about me, and many people seem to enjoy riding in/near the city.  Indeed, some actually prefer it, particularly if it means they can ride rather than drive to a ride start or if it means a flatter, faster, easier course.  But city riding, while I indulge in it occasionally, is not my thing and being a Tour de Mad Dog finisher just is not so important to me anymore that I will ride a course I don't like.  Perhaps even company is not so important as it once was.  We change.  Others change.  Viva la differences, I suppose.

 

 I would love to have the company, but spring dances by so quickly and I don't want to waste a riding day on such a course.  The last time I drove in to a town/suburb ride, a week or so ago,  four of us were riding along when  a man pulls alongside in his Mercedes, rolls down his window, and asks:  "Do I have to hit you to get you off the road?"  He then rolls up his window and drives on.   Where along the way did we become like this? Does anyone still yield a seat on a bus to a pregnant woman or volunteer to take another seat on a plane if a parent wants to sit with their child? Is it all about us and our rights?  Where along the way did we lose the "milk of human kindness?" (Shakespeare) Or maybe most have not.  Just a few.  Anyway,  if we cost this driver a minute of his time, that is a generous estimate.  Certainly, if he hit us, unless he drove on without stopping, it would cost more of his precious time. 

 

Regardless, it was not a bad ride, but it was not one of those rides where you spend time catching up and talking about things or where there is scenery that is so stunning it makes you inhale and send up a prayer of thanks celebrating being alive, alive and on a bicycle and with friends who share your passion.  Too much traffic.  It was not one of those rides that you will long remember and be glad you used your time to attend.  It was an okay ride, but not a great ride.  Great ride captain though.  And a course that had greater attendance than it would have if it were further afield. 

 

Soon there will be plenty of days with friends barring illness or accident.  There will be time to catch up about the winter happenings that we have not yet talked about on the few club rides I have done this year.  I have already gotten a chance to talk some to Paul and Mike during the ride I put on this week.  I was disappointed not to get to talk a bit with Steve, but we did catch up a bit before the ride.  He, Keith, and Tom Waggoner, yes THE Tom Waggoner that builds bicycles, rode ahead.  Of course, I did not know who he was until the store stop when Steve informed me and I did not see him after the ride, but I hope he felt welcome and enjoyed the course during his visit to this area.

 

  Already the Redbuds are fading to a pale, blanched version of their glory only a few days prior.  The Dogwoods are still strong, however, and bluebells and other flowers line side roads.  On my walk the other day, I even spotted some red trillium, one of my favorites.  Trees are leafing out to where views seen in the winter are becoming obscured.  But how I rejoice in the greenness.  Even mowing my lawn still seems a treat rather than a chore.  The only time I truly miss the cold is when it comes time to sleep.  If things run as normal, I will not sleep as well in the coming months.  

 

And so, despite the colder weather and wind predictions, after walking with Diana at the Forestry, I swing my leg over the bike and head toward Eden/Delaney Park.  I decide to ride to Salem and home knowing this route will run somewhere between forty and fifty miles.  Along the way I realize that I am happy and so glad at how much I "wanted" to ride.  I have struggled with that a bit in the recent past year or so and wondered if my verve would reappear.  I hope it does not begin to slip away again, because I love it here:  the solitude, the burgeoning verdancy, the colors and hues.

 

Eden and Delaney do not disappoint.  I love how the trees grow right to the edge of the road in places and one rides under a canopy.  I don't love the hill that I know is coming near the turn around point, but I also know it is that time of year.  And experience has taught me that great scenery  often comes with the price of hills and climbing.   The fields are not yet planted in those areas where the forest has gaps.   It is obvious, however, that some have been sprayed and I realize I missed the full fields of yellow flowers that delight me but cause my allergies to plague me a bit.   I come across a young Amish boy and girl carrying a basket and laugh at the two, small spotted ponies in the yard.  Later I will pass an Amish man mowing his yard with the blades whirling behind a horse.  This is a first for me.  I have often seen the Amish pushing the old, non-electric or gas mowers that you walk behind, but never where the blades were pulled by a horse.  

I reach the hill and the white ducks that appeared a year or two ago are at the bottom in a creek.  They appear to have multiplied.  I wonder that a fox or coyote has not gotten them. I begin to climb, the legs protesting as they are wont to do anymore.  Since I have been doing leg work, I know that the protest is really more mental and so I stay in the middle chain ring and force one foot to follow the other.  I try to think of how easy the miles home will be as I push into the strong winds.  And it helps.  Despite my worry, I have no trouble climbing the hill though the climb is slow.  

As expected, the ride home make me a tail wind hero, often reaching 23 or 24 mph on roads where, at this stage in my life, I would normally travel at perhaps 15 or 16 on a good day.  It feels good to fly.  I toy with stopping at the store for a snack, but decide to wait until I get home.  I have a meal planned and know I will enjoy it more hungry.  So glad I lead with my heart this time rather than going to a ride others wanted me to go to but that I felt I would not enjoy for life has taught me that rides and time are limited. So glad I got to catch yet another glimpse of spring before she dances off leaving summer behind.  So glad to be alive, to be healthy, to be on a bicycle.  So blessed.