CYCLING & the ILLUSION OF WINTER:FEBRUARY SPOKES
I keep intending to join the Friday morning all-weather ride, but I keep finding other things to do: work on my book, meet students, swim. I keep thinking I’m not strong enough, this ride isn’t really for me.
Last week, the roads were dry. The sun was visible as an entity—the shadows were slanted in that way that implicates spring. We could feel heat from the sun as we walked the dog. The sun as a hot thing—well, it ignites the soul.
So I put the dog in the house, and released Celeste, my bike, from the dining room, where she has been chewing hay all winter, part Italian art object, part spokey caged beast. And I got into my bike clothes—it always seems daunting, assembling all that stuff, but it only takes five minutes, it is easier than getting dressed for work!
And I coasted down my driveway in February.
And I rode down 24th Street and noticed the strong south wind so I turned hard into the wind which is a complete metaphor for my life these days and I smiled and pedaled softly, not trying to get anywhere fast.
I rode past the dry cleaner and a truck with three men in it pulled up to me and smiled and said, “Hey baby.” And I said to myself, thanks! Hello!
Boys walking home from school stood on a snow mountain and saw me—bright sunglasses, pink tights, red jacket, pink helmet—I’m basically a Valentine on wheels—and they yelled, “Hey hey hey! Look at you! Hey!” These are not the boys who normally sing to middle aged women. This is the bike, making us all better, happier, more kind and festive versions of our old, haggard, baddened winter selves.
My God I believe in the bike.
I rode out of town and then right back into town that day—it was getting on to 58 degrees—and I sang John Hiatt songs and realized my breaking heart was just a plain old heart and not a dramatic entity, not a performer.
I am brilliant on my bike.
And the wind rode me home. I saw the tulips on south facing streets were already one inch high! I saw the pussy willows and the forsythia were jewelry kits, begging for plucking. I saw everything and every single person I passed waved. I was in a parade of joy.
I hope I have the courage for the Friday ride this week. No matter what the weather is.
We are so dumb without wheels, without wind. That’s what my dog is saying.
Related posts: