My favorite ride is the long, 3-4 hour kind. Rides where you can get
out of town, into the country where the traffic is light. Routes where
you can enjoy the scenery and get lost in contemplation. But
yesterday's short loop reminded me that rides don't have to be long to
raise your spirits.
I had only an hour or so to get in a ride before I had to be home, so I
headed to the nearest hills to get a good workout. Because I wasn't
going far, I didn't need a lot of fluids; two bottles of ice water and
I was set. My timing must have been perfect, or I was just lucky: the
winds of the past three days were suddenly quiet. I saw few cars or
bikes and I half-wondered if the road was closed and I missed the sign.
I hit the hills hard, determined to break a sweat. With little time to
ride, I spared no effort. My legs and my lungs burned at the top of
each climb. I coasted down the descents, gasping for air, sucking
ice-cold water and reveling in the views.
After an hour or so of blissful pedaling in the afternoon sun, I
returned to the road home. Rush-hour traffic had started its frenetic
thrashing, so I cut through a suburban neighborhood to reach the bike
trail. As I turned onto the trail I suddenly became aware of a large
doe munching grass a few feet away. As I passed, I called, "Hello,
deer!" She lifted her head and turned her ears in my direction.
On the bike trail were one or two commuters with their mountain bikes
and knapsacks, and a pair of ladies out for a stroll. The way home for
me was all downhill, along a gentle grade that leads to my
neighborhood. On my street the only sound was a lawn mower in
someone's back yard. A light breeze breathed into my helmet as I
pulled to a stop in front of the house.
Yessir, it was quite a ride.
-JR