Biking nourishes my soul.
I love the fresh air. And, I especially love that it is the effort of my legs and lungs which propel me forward. It is my strength, my endurance, which powers me up the hill. Once at the top, seeing the rolling countryside spreading out to meet the sky is always, always worth the climb (and knowing there is a kick-ass decent on the other side is just icing on the cake).
Biking nourishes my soul like a good, old-fashioned, Mennonite hymn sing. For you Mennonites out there, you know what I’m talking about. It isn’t unheard of to hear strains of the Hallelujah Chorus while I’m biking – just in my head, of course, since
for safety reasons I’m not going to be wearing an Ipod bud anytime soon, and it is highly unlikely I’ll come across a Flash Mob of Mennonite men singing in a field (still hoping!).
Biking is church for me. The velvet green fields, the purple asters, the glowing yellow birch are all the stained glass I need. The bike seat is my pew, birdsong the choir, and every breath I take is a prayer of thanks and gratitude. (And the people who flip me the bird while passing too close in their cars – well, they are a reminder that sinners are
Monday was a spectacular day. My guy got to play with me all day and a late
afternoon ride was in order.
We rode mostly in the valley, staying in the flats since we’re both running in the Haunted Hustle on Saturday (him the marathon, me the half). We rode along one of my favorite roads, Knight Valley which becomes Knight Hollow at some mysterious point along the way before it joins up with County HH. The photos in this post were taken along this magical road, worthy of its name, knighted, an ancient path in Camelot.