Haunts

I talked to an old and dear friend yesterday - first time in a decade. I will spare you my personal thoughts about how overwhelmingly dedicated one can feel to old friends.

I got an unrelated email from a college classmate, George, a few months ago - he has truly lived a cyclist's life. As I reflected on my conversation with my other friend, I was thinking a lot about George's message:

Avoid the bicycle bug at all costs – the bars are a safer bet. The bicycle will ruin your life. I’ve been lost with my head in the spokes since we last parted ways about eleven years ago! Yet, the bicycle is the perfect metaphor for life. You wake up, you spin, you return home, you go to bed. If you're lucky, you’ll outrun time and keep your troubles behind!

Part of what I love about cycling is the absolute immediacy of it, the way it forces you to forget. But you fall in love with your favorite ride - you relive it, you visit it again, again, again. And the magic is, it grows right along with you - coy laughter and a knockout smile at the top of that impossible, long climb.