Scenic Summer

After nearly 3 solid weeks of inactivity I've been dying to get back into the swing of things, but have been fearful of aggravating my various injuries. The one thing I thought I could probably do was bike, so after getting the go-ahead from Sports Massage Therapist Holly I ditched work a little early and took Donna out for a spin.

I meant to take it slow and easy and make it short, just to see how I felt. 30 minutes tops. I knew there was no guarantee some part of my damaged anatomy - knees, calves, low back, shoulder - wouldn't start screaming at any moment, so instead of my routine cruise down the endless bike trail, I decided to explore the neighborhoods near my house.

A half hour in I knew I should have gone home, but I felt fine and I just couldn't talk Donna into turning around. We explored the drunkenly winding streets and cul-de-sacs of the neighborhood across the road. Still she urged me on, refusing to return to her prison in the dim and dusty garage.

We rode on, heading into the next neighborhood. Still wanting to keep close to home, instead of continuining east to the trail we turned down every side street, investigating a neighborhood I knew only to pass through. We exhausted every hidden Trail and Lane and Court, but still, when we reached the street that led home she would not turn back.

So we took the next side street, this time to the left. This one wandered off from a 3-way stop in a direction I'd never been, never thought of going. We struggled briefly, almost crashed because we were forced to stop on an uphill to allow half a dozen cars to pass before we could take the left. But Donna really wanted to go, and once I took my first real look down that open, inviting street, so did I.

I still can't believe what I found back there. Nothing extraordinary, mind you. Just extraordinary to me, a kid who grew up in an isolated rural area. I guess I never believed such things existed outside of a Norman Rockwell painting.

Kids were riding their bikes in the quiet streets. Gathered in driveways, eating dripping ice cones. Playing with dogs that inevitably barked at my passing. The buzzing drone of lawnmowers underscored the laughter and the barking and the wind in my ears. It was so peaceful.

Then I turned a corner and passed an idyllic little pond, sunlight glinting off its still waters, and was once again amazed. How could I have not known about this lovely little tableau, so close to my own home?

After making a tentative exploration into the edges of this new neighborhood, the fifth of the ride, I finally succombed to reason and headed back; this time Donna didn't fight me. On the surface, I was satisfied with my workout - I managed 12 miles in 60 minutes, held a nice relaxed cadence between 75-85 and my HR in the 140s. Perfect, I think, for an active recovery ride.

But I found myself happy on a deeper level. My injury had forced me to slow down and look at what was right in front of me, and I found myself enamored with what I found right here in my own back yard.