Yesterday nothing could have persuaded me to ride. I was body-tired, my legs lacked strength, even breathing was a chore, as the air felt stuffy and close. I’d ridden the day before at a regular pace, but for most of the ride I felt the lactic acid in my muscles. All the way home they had a tiring, power-sapping ache. The dynamic cycling broadcast duo, analysts and narrators Liggett and Sherwen, would be saying “Bradford’s on a bad day today.” (One of my idle sports fantasies is/was imagining myself in a performance that is being broadcast. In my youth it was Jim Britt announcing the Boston baseball game : “Three and two, the big one due. Bradford toes the rubber; the southpaw kicks and deals . . . Strike three swinging! Got him with a fastball.”)
But today I was on a good day, a very good day, I was “into my rhythm” and “on a great escapade.” The sun was out, the air was cool, the breeze was gentle. I was rested. This morning I couldn’t wait to hop on the bike. I could have ridden all day, but moderation prevailed. While I was out there, on my route along the Potomac, I had no sense of time, of effort, of physical restrictions. I was simply and fully into it, bike and body as one, soaking up the feelings, the sights, the sounds. This kind of lucid consciousness doesn’t come very often, but it’s a luxury when it does.
[Written on September 15, 2010.]
©Arnold J. Bradford, 2010.