I miss
riding with my friends. The conversation, the joking, the bullshitting--even
riding silently together. I miss it all.
Alas, riding
alone is how it’s going to be for a while. (I’m hopeful that the wide-openness
of gravel will allow for two-person rides, but not everyone will be comfortable
with that.) For the most part, my solo rides have been, well, okay. It’s
something just to be out on the bike, moving through warm air again. But it’s
not as much fun as riding with other humans.
My ride a
few days ago, however, was an exception. I drove out to Strathcona County and
explored some territory to the north and west of Elk Island Park. It was a
warm, sunny day, not too breezy; the melt was on, with water coursing through
the ditches and culverts, small torrents seeking out low ground. And part way through
the ride something happened: I experienced some curious shift in how I saw the
world from my saddle, and I actually enjoyed--for the first time in a long
time--being alone out there.
