"I did not ride for pleasure. I rode to get somewhere, and I don’t mean from the house... I mean I rode to get somewhere myself."--William SaroyanAbridged quotation from The Bicycle Rider in Beverly Hills.
I apologize for being a “recalcitrant blogger”… It dawned on me last night that the best therapy for the melancholy caused by the dreary weather of past weeks and the escalation of seasonal affective disorder (promoted by the recent time change) remains a bicycle ride—with an old friend. This morning after the better part of a month of cycling-inactivity, I (re)called a dependable friend, of nearly two and a half decades, to go for a “frosty” but spirited bike ride. I knew that neither of us would be in our “prime” for the ride, since it has been a long time since either of us had trained. Delightfully, my friend rolled with the opportunity, and we shared yet another adventure—long overdue.
The chilly morning air reduced our efficiency and gnawed at our joints. Even though we have aged ungracefully, we persisted in acquiring an endorphin rush. It was like the Old Days, when we affirmed our independence on the off-road and mountain trail.
Maybe you’ll meet my special(ized) friend on the trail this winter. I have included a photograph at the top of the article.
"I did not ride for pleasure. I rode to get somewhere, and I don’t mean from the house... I mean I rode to get somewhere myself."--William Saroyan
