sixteen milesPosted: March 7, 2012
Doesn’t sound like much, but we started at 17:00 and rode with the little light we had. Monk, Rev, Moo and I ( the only one with no nickname ) rode up along the Dupage river.
Cycling purifies you. Each silent stroke of leg propels you forward. Smooth you settle into a rhythm where breath follows breath, in through the nose, out through the pursed mouth. Each stroke and breath, the air against your face and legs, the clouds of nymphs you ride through tease the senses in a dozen ways.
I am tired, a good deserved tired. I think I shall sleep well tonight.