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.

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