The First Dozen

This is going to hurt, I thought today as I clipped in for my inaugural ride of 2010. Mounds of snow strewn at the ends of the parking lot are a sharp contrast to the 50 degree weather and bright sunshine. I turned the iPod on and meltwater sprayed up as I completed my first pedal strokes.

The pain won't be a bad kind, and I longed for it in the same way one longs to repeat the high experienced on their first toke. As I wound my way through dog walkers, joggers, and rollerbladers, I felt a long winter season of tensions begin to dissipate. Like the snow succumbing to the sun, with each turn of the crank, the past few months of long work days and senseless thoughts faded away, even if for only a moment.

Cool wind became cold as I faster made my way, sensing muscles I hadn't noticed since last November. I pushed a little harder after I made it passed all the pedestrian traffic, really mashing the pedals. Form doesn't matter this early in the season and I wasn't out to break any records, just enjoy the moment and perhaps escape for a short while. I chuckled at the way the bike responded to my winter-weakened attempts to be explosive.

I've needed the solitary singular focus of a ride to sort through thoughts cycling through my head as of late. Spreading myself as thin as I have recently isn't something I should have done and the repercussions extend beyond my person. I've not had the energy nor made the time to give attention to the things that in the past I've always held in high regard. At what cost, as I've wondered before, does this come? Right now, I feel it is as high as its ever been and I don't like it. I have no idea what is going on beyond my own selfish bubble.

As I near the turn around point, I've loosened up and feel the need to escape further. In a weird way, it always takes me a while to warm up and today is no different. I pause at a crossroad and settle into the drops. There is a slight incline and I challenge myself to stay settled in until I crest. The taste of blood begins to permeate my mouth - a sure sign I am drastically out of shape - but I reach my goal and decide to spin on. I don't let up until the next crossroad and decide once safely on the other side to repeat the last ten minutes. It feels great. Thoughts and concerns are left swirling in the salt and detritus strewn about the shoulder. They'll catch up, for sure, but for these brief moments, I am in the lead.

As I wind my way back along the lakeshore, the pressures that await at home catch up. Not yet, I plead, but I know it is a request that will fall on the deaf ears of my own mind. I coast in, thankful for the first dozen miles of 2010, the ones that allowed me to reconnect with the one thing that, for now, is able to put me at ease. I know the fix is only temporary, and I shouldn't rely on it as I do, but I know no other way.