I woke up feeling groggy this morning. Thanksgiving leftovers have taken their toll and my body was soggy and sticky with sweets. I suppose the cold and cloudy day might have been a deterrent. I could have climbed back into bed after letting the dogs out and snuggled into the covers with a good book. I have a dozen on my night stand after all. But I know my body, and if I were to do that I would end up feeling sluggish and icky all day. I had a very important event to attend in the afternoon so I socked it to the chilly air and got at it.
The thermometer read 38 degrees and I braced myself for the wind. You see, I desperately wanted to ride my bike but I have never gone out when it was that cold before. I felt sufficiently layered with gloves and ear covers and sped down the hill by my house with gusto. I figured that worst case scenario–my fingers would go numb and I’d have to turn right around and head back. But when the cold started to sting I found myself reluctant to return home. I flexed my fingers and pumped my feet. I pushed up hills and waved to passersby. Unlike every other bike ride I’ve done this year, I saw no other cyclists on the roads–only frazzled drivers–and none of them waved back when I lifted my hand in a friendly gesture.
“I get the feeling that I’m living in sci-fi. I get the feeling that my weapons are low-fi.”Switchfoot “War Inside”
The words and music streamed through my earbuds as I pedaled to the beat. I thought about how bland and blank the sky was. No blue. No white fluffy clouds. Only cold. Bitter, audacious, cold. So why, when I had felt like gum on the bottom of a shoe only minutes before, did I suddenly feel as if I could fly? I don’t really understand what it is about riding my bicycle that makes me feel so great. I supposed I could “adult” and talk about endorphins and aerobic exercise. I could talk about brain activity in correlation to oxygen levels, but that all seems rather cerebral. The truth is, every time I jump on my bike and take off down a hill, I am 10 years old again at the top of Blackwood Drive in Florissant. I’ve got my right foot on the pedal of my light purple Huffy bike. I am flicking the lavender tassles and adjusting the stuffed animals in my white plastic basket. I can see my little sister off in the distance–her blond pony tail blowing in the wind. My best friend, Shelly, is pulling up behind me and we are preparing to race to the bottom. If I’m lucky, I’ll beat her. If I’m not, I’ll try again. And then we’re off and I’m flying like a bird.
“I can feel it building up inside. The images that play inside my mind. The dreams that I’ve been dreaming all my life. The colors that live outside the lines.”Switchfoot “Back to the Beginning”
I’m somewhere around Mid Rivers Mall–about 30 minutes into my ride–when I hit my stride. Just a few weeks ago traffic at 9:00am on Saturday morning would have been nonexistent, but today the cars were like pill bugs–busy little gray insects zooming from point A to point B while hardly noticing the crazy white woman on her light blue Jamis bike pedaling like a pro and harmonizing to the soundtrack of her life: Switchfoot. And somehow the cold just felt less. On one of the busiest shopping days of the year I was “wasting time” riding my bike around and past the stores rather than rushing into them. Simple as that thought is, it gave me so much perspective about my life.
Great Blue Heron
I suppose I could have stayed in bed an extra hour. I could have caught up on dishes. I could have even made waffles and bacon. None of those things are bad. But I’m glad I braved the cold air. I may be a dreamer, but today was a beautiful day for a ride on my bicycle.
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