from predator to santa claus ? – cyclingPosted: October 10, 2012
I admit my beard may have a trace of grey, well mostly grey but…
October brings blue skies with brilliant clouds and frosty morning breaths where each exhale creates a cloud that lingers and then vanishes magically away. I pull on my red hoodie, my sweats and cycling kit to head out toward Euclid Creek Reservation where the 2.5 mile hill thrills on the descent and punishes on the up. The cool morning air stings my cheeks and fingers into each declaring here I am, celebrating life.
Tucked in flying down the hill, the creek stays always on my right accented by now bare trees, who stand proud and silent sentinels until spring. My Cateye speedometer shows me the wind has whistled past at thirty six miles per hour and I now slowly cruise past the basketball court at the flat bottom where gravity no longer compels me on, and I focus on the uphill grind.
The road for speed downhill, the uphill on the bike path next to the cascading stream. Some walkers brave the cold and I see a young black woman bundled up pushing a stroller with a bright eyed little boy. As I approach red hoodie tightly tied to keep the wind at bay, I see the little boy sitting up pointing at me eyes as big as saucers. Nearer I come, and the more animated he is until at last I hear him repeating over and over, “Look Mamma, Santa!”