The Joy of Living

Monday morning I came alive.

Struggling with an injured ankle that is slow to heal, I’ve been off the bike almost entirely the past month. Working long hours six days a week, I’ve barely seen the sunshine. Monday I said enough was enough and I went for a little bike ride. I put on my cycling kit and running shoes, gingerly threw a leg over The Doctor’s top-tube and set out for two hours of soft-pedalling bliss.

Riding flat pedals and with strength in just one leg, my pace was slow and hills were difficult. I rode east to west along the Lakeshore Trail then north along the Humber River trails.  Turning back, I picked my way through busy city streets towards lunch in Kensington Market. The paths were packed with folks enjoying the Victoria Day long weekend, slowing my pace even further. But speed was not the point here, simply being on the bike was all that mattered.

Riding past families picnicking and couples walking lazily hand-in-hand, I thought about some of the monstrous rides I’ve enjoyed over the past several years. I considered the big races I’ve completed and the training endured to reach those goals. I thought about how I see myself as a cyclist and what cycling means to me. At times I felt frustrated, knowing that my summer will be one of healing and recovery, not training and triumph. But mostly,  I was reminded of the true joys that cycling affords.

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