Straightaway Motto

ornamental cherry tree in blosson in Victoria

The ground rushes at me quickly.
I feel the chill, I consider that it must be for the lack of trees.
Where are the trees? The rocks? The dirt? They make me feel safe.
This is much scarier.

The ground rushes by, the wind howls in my ears and causes my eyes to tear up.
The rush of speed is quite exhilarating.
Carving corners is a new experience and is taking me a while to get used to.

My legs feel tight, stiff, unresponsive and dead.
I have no power right now, and I ponder that fact during a long straightaway.
Is it the morning chill? Is it the lack of breakfast?
Is it because I still feel asleep?

I cut the ride short. I turn at the lights instead of going straight.
In my mind I quickly recalculate a route home.
I push hard up the hills in an effort to get the blood flowing.
Crest to rest becomes my motto.

Once again I become familiar with the neighbourhood I am transiting.
I am familiar with what streets have the worst holes.
Avoiding the nasty’s I spin past the ocean front.
As I pull into my driveway I am pleased I forced myself outside, hoping that next time will be warmer.