The Wind and the Sun

I rode my bike yesterday. Not just a cruise, not just a spin, but a ride.

Our family had a busy weekend so I was unable to steal some time for a ride and Monday I had babysitting duty with my wife gone to a meeting.

After riding a total of nearly 80 miles last week, my legs were twitching with anticipation along with my mind for more time in the saddle.

I craved not only the physical aspect of the ride, but also the mental. After hearing of two cyclists in the last two weeks getting hit by cars, one slightly injured, and the other losing their life, it had become a mission. A sort of reclaiming the road with a mighty yell stating, “This is our rode as well, and you shall not take this right from us by force or fear!”

This ride would be long, and would not be pleasant…by choice. I set out with the intent of breaking myself. I can’t quit pin why I wanted the ride to be so hard, maybe to punish me for something done in the past. Maybe because there was one less rider in my area that would never experience the joy of riding. Maybe so I could be alone. Maybe my mind is broken and sick. But I needed to hurt.

My ride would start with 12 miles straight into a 20-25 mph wind, then turning to the east for a long steady climb out of the town of Canyon, now with a crosswind that was still slightly blowing into my face. As I went along on the first part of my ride, my mind became water clear, almost to a trance like state. I was only aware of sight, smell, and sound. The silvery tops of the ocean of corn as the evening sun gleamed off of them as they crested in waves from the wind. The steady whir from my tires as they rolled along the hot asphalt, broken at times by the hot West Texas wind blasting by my ears. The sporadic sound of cars as they rolled by. As I clipped along I began to see a line of white underlining the sun that would soon grow into a distant thunderstorm somewhere to the northwest.

As I turned for the climb out, I began to feel the burn in my muscles. “Good” I said to myself. I past a handful of houses during the climb, I crossed the Tierra Blanca Creek, flowing well from all of the recent rain we have received with its banks shrouded in tall green grass. Cresting out on the climb, I rolled between to desolate empty pastures, the only sounds now were the wind, my tires, and a windmill creaking as I past by. Perfect. I’m alone, tired, breaking, and happy.

Stopping at the next intersection to consume some fuel for the final leg of my ride, reveled in the fact that I would now have my back to the wind, and would be seeing just how fast I could go and for how long. Stuffing the empty energy gel packet back into my pocket and taking a few quick pulls from my water bottle, I turned onto the road way and began to fly. Recent heat and traffic on the road had smoothed out all of the rock making for a perfect runway for my flight. Quickly I was in the largest gear possibly, tucked into the drops and burning. After several miles, I came to the first set of rollers that indicated I was close to the canyon area. Meaning two things; I get to see how fast I can go downhill, and I get to punish myself one more time coming up the other side. Soon the road turned downward and I rose out of the saddle pumping the pedals until I couldn’t keep up with them. I tucked in and became as small as possible. At the bottom my computer read 52 mph.

But as quickly as I made that speed, it was gone. The road turned skyward and gravity began to take its grasp on my tires. Slowly, painfully I pumped out of the canyon. With sweat pouring off my arms and legs, I clawed my way up. Once reaching the crest, I took a couple more sips from my water bottle, only to go at it as hard as I could again. There would be no rest until I was back at my home.

I smiled at the long, flat, black road that lay before me. My feet began to turn the pedals as my speed increased. My solid trance like expression had now turned into a happy grimace of exhaustion and pain. My calves hurt, my quads hurt, my knees hurt, but my mind was happy. I was getting stronger and more fit.

The last part of my ride I reserved for some recovery time, which was briefly interrupted by a train plowing down the tracks. As I stood, waiting for it to pass, I could feel just how hard I had ridden. My back hurt, my legs hurt. They wobbled with instability from the effort they had put forth. I smiled down at them, wincing periodically as my back ached.

With the train gone, I continued on to the house. Throwing in a couple of hard sprinting efforts to make sure I was a broken as possible when I got home, with each effort a little more pathetic than the one before. As I turned down my street a small boy on a tricycle smiled and said “Hi.” I waved back and said hello as I began my last sprint, which went all the way home. I whizzed past some neighbors on their porches and kids also on their bikes, until I pulled into my garage.

I dismounted my steed and took of my helmet. I plucked the water bottles from their cages and drained the remainder of their contents into my mouth. I wobbled my way to the door and turned back to look at my bike, leaning their looking at me smiling like a giddy school girl after her first date.

I smiled back. “See you soon.”