One With the Cranks

You can hardly call it light out. Even at 8am the sun, barely over the horizon, is shrouded by black clouds and rain. It doesn’t make you feel happy, yet, your not sad. You are relaxed and at peace. I’m dead set on a ride, forget about the rain. I put on my kit and riding jacket (not that it will protect me from much). I check the air in the tires and go. Before I peddle our of the driveway I’m soaked.

 

I watch as my tires shed water in streaks of brown droplets in a line behind them. They somehow manage to keep up with all the ambient water on the road. My helmet has a steady stream of droplets spewing off it into my glasses. Water is everywhere. I cannot feel my legs, they have become part of the cranks. They work in unison with the bike as if they were not part of my body. They, like the bike, don’t worry about being wet; they just push.

 

I cannot stop, they cannot stop. We are all soaked, but what do we care? Its our nature, we just push.

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