Monday, August 8, 2016
The Epic Trip Up the Driveway
The boot presses against my shin as I lean into the hill. My weakened leg strains against the resistance of the pedal as we -- leg, brain, balance, bike, boot, and fear -- all fight gravity. I shift into the lowest gear and find just enough strength to creep forward, hoping I don't stall and tip over, doing who knows what damage to the healing tendon. After long, wobbly seconds I reach the top of the hill of my driveway. This first time on a bike in three months is simultaneously a thrill and a reality check of limits. I turn onto Swan Road and gather speed in the downhill run to the bridge. I am rolling! The thrill is almost more than I can bear. Tears from the wind and joy stream down my cheeks. I tell myself I will remember this, will never again take this, nor any other, moment for granted. Traffic passes at fifty miles an hour. I doubt anyone notices the aging cyclist wearing his Aircast pedaling along in the bike lane. It doesn't matter. I am moving, moving back into the world, my waiting work, a new season, a great big unknown. The future is there waiting to be made as I slowly move toward it, into it, one pedal stroke at a time. I have another chance to try and get it right. Wheels, wind, growing strength, and a howling mystery sustain me. I bow in gratitude.