Usually I am fairly focused during my morning bike ride. But occasionally I will give my mind something to work on in an effort to make the time pass. Today was one of those days. I challenged myself to describe what a typical ride is like, but to do it from an unusual perspective. This is what I came up with:
The legs scream out for mercy. They are forced to maintain a cadence they did not agree to. After nearly a half century of service, they are pushed to the limit yet again, doing the work generally reserved for those half their age.
The miles drone on. Evidence of the city fades away, and is replaced by fields, farms and fresh air. A lone cow briefly lifts its head at the sound of the chain circling its gears.
Just as the legs feel they can take no more, they are overcome with a strange sensation. It is the feeling of power. Without warning they take control and drive the pace, pushing it to another level. The tires hum against asphalt as the velocity increases. While the fence posts whizz by, the newly energized legs accelerate yet again, but this time with effortless motion. They find their rhythm.
After several more miles, the energy begins to fade, but the fire has been lit. There is no letting up now. The pain returns, worse than before. But instead of complaining, the legs embrace the agony. Now the mind begs for relief. But the legs take their revenge and push even harder.
The silent battle rages on, but goes unnoticed by the sparrows perched on the power lines overhead.
The last mile approaches, a cruel uphill finish. The legs and the mind finally agree. They must rise above the distress, find the reserve and tap into it. They do, reaching the finish by sheer will.
The drama has played out. It is over… that is until tomorrow.