The pitter-patter of rain on my jacket. I notice it as I turn off the main road, down the ramp, to the cycle path along the river. It’s always a good moment. High gear, push hard in the pedals, and accelerate. Whoosh! The ground is wet, and the sky is gray and heavy. Spat-spat-spat-spat-spat-spat-spat go my tires over the sodden leaves. After the rush comes the rhythmic pedaling, and I take in my surroundings. Traffic, always traffic, backed up on the right. Never, ever a job with a car-commute! I gotta roll! On the left, the river, dark and swollen with rain. That’s good. I wonder what it’s like to be standing knee deep in it and feeling the cold flow around my legs.
The temperature—I’m not wearing my gloves..how cold is it actually? Cold, but I want to feel the cold on my hands, feel close to the elements. The contrast to the warmth rising around my chest and neck in my winter jacket as my legs do their work. I am in the moment: Now is good. I listen for birdsong and hear four distinct calls. That’s four completely different species of bird right there around me and I can’t even see them or recognize their voices. So close and yet so far away. Then there’s the calls of the children echoing across the astroturf. Football training. Everything is in motion—the river, the joggers, the lights—accompanied by the whirring freewheel and click-clack of my gears. And then: solitude as I enter the wood. A deep breath. It’s easier to breathe deeper alone. It’s darker now, the blink-blink of my front light casts eerie shadows on the otherwise colorful graffiti under the main road overpass. Natural and human creativity juxtaposed but somehow in harmony. Maybe I’m just used to it. Coming out of the woods and over the level crossing wakes me out of my meditative state. Now I think of my family, ringing the doorbell, being received. There’s no place like home!