The first cold morning of fall: A Sunday Morning Bicycle Ride

Sope Creek from the Bridge

first light 55deg.
Paper Mill Loop 25miles.

The long descent on Murdoch rd
the sun glancing into my eyes through the trees,
across the stream and around
the most delightfully banked curve
rolling past the meadow where
a flock of geese wander
and two foals nibble the dewy grass.

Bishop's lake Rd is newly paved
so the rollers are a smooth black ribbon
stretched out across the dells and hollows
where mists rise and dance across the water
toward the sky in whisps caught by the morning light blinding me each time I turn my head to look,
too bright to enjoy, to beautiful to ignore.

Climbing the hill due east toward the catholic church
I ride directly into the rising sun,
the field of my vision fully obscured
by the blinding light
and I shiver to know the cars behind
cannot see my form
standing on the pedals
to propel me up the hill,
their windshields like my glasses
a complete whiteout.

Little Willeo dips and rolls and finally
climbs up the long hill to Johnsons Ferry Rd.
On an empty stretch of Woodlawn
I sit up for the first time
pedaling with no hands, like a kid again,
and eat a granola bar
out of my jersey pocket.

On the descent of Paper Mill toward sope creek
I scream in delight as I feel the bike accelerate
up over 40 mph
and then the electric shock of adrenaline
pulses through every cell of my body
on the sharp curve where I think for just a moment
"I could go down, this pavement could be wet with the dew"
but I cannot brake now already committed to the line I've chosen,
knowing the brakes will only send me careening
into or over the guard rail and the creek below.

But then the thought is reigned in
as I bring my mind back to the breath
and the body resumes it's gentle rhythmic pulse.

A brief pause on the bridge above the rocks
and then the labor of the long climb up out of the ravine.
Now I'm feeling the pain in my legs.
It's a short ride this morning but already
I'm tempted by demoralizing thoughts,
slower than usual, feeling old, just going
to get slower as the years go on,
but no, return to the breath,
enjoy this moment now, live it to the full
whether you are going full out
or holding back because you're just not there today.

Still, finish as strong as you can on the climb up Holly Springs,
not a very long ride, but still a good one, a kind of rolling meditation
that gave my mind and body a break from the mundane
making the rest of the day a little more magical
in the glow of chemicals my body happily produces
as it rebuilds muscle fibers.

My wife and children's faces look a little sweeter
after this time, the warm house inviting in the morning light
the smell of coffee brewing welcomes me in.