On The Bike

The week following the Hairshirt, I’d take it easy, recover, ride only a little.  So much for good intentions.  Riding neither the Monday nor Tuesday, I then rode nearly every day for a week.  The 450kms included thirty kilometres at night on Canada Day for moon-lit skinny-dipping in Lake Ontario; those came just a few hours after a 175km BBCo club ride.  I rode a lot that week; I needed to, I had a lot on my mind.

With several personal items weighing on me recently, it is the bike that ensures I’m up to the challenge.  The bike keeps me fit, it keeps me energized, always uplifting.  It gets me to where I need to go and places I never imagined.  It gives me the space to think and a place to escape.  The bike is fun, exciting; it is punishing, enlightening. I can ride alone, with friends, with strangers. The bike is willing to listen, willing to work with you but it’ll make you cry all the same.  On the bike I’m forever young, riding better as I get older.

On the bike, I am on the road to happiness.  On the bike, I am.

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