5:30

birds were my alarm this morning, chattering, singing, happily communicating birds.
they didn't receive the message, though, that I wanted to sleep in until 5:30. they thought 4:30 would be a good time for me to get up and going.
I didn't.
I can't say either side won: it was more of a stand-off, as I refused to get out of bed and they declined to stop singing.

however, they were right.
it was a beautiful morning, just waiting for me to get out and enjoy it.

by the time I battled the headwinds streaming out of the canyon, and settled into the calmer air a few miles up, I was fully engaged with the fresh air and more twittering birds performing their morning rituals. a solitary hummingbird hovered while I rode a shady stretch, as the sun lightened the sky all around but selfishly kept its rays far above my head and goosebump-laden limbs.

I love many things about my early morning rides, but one aspect I just adore is my ability to be completely alone for amazingly long expanses of time. I can often ride for miles without seeing a car, a jogger, or another cyclist which leaves just me, my bike, the sound of my tires on the road, and the subtle symphony of a world without humans beginning its day.

the reservoir was dark glass this morning, greens and blues and grays shimmering and marble-like. it pulled me up over the summit and down alongside it, and then I just kept going. not a soul around, it was just me and acres and acres and miles and miles of pure nature. no toiling lilies, no stressed trees, no little creatures spinning their wheels, trying to make the world bend to their demands.
just peace.
and my favorite meadow, my favorite body of water, my favorite place to just be.

the sun danced on my back as I rode back up to the summit, then down to the slowly wakening city. the wind gave me a little push, and the entire experience gave my soul a refill which will hopefully keep me moving forward without toil, stress, or worthless spinning, all in efforts to make that world bend to my design.
instead I will hold onto peace, pulling in deep breaths of that miraculous space I inhabited not so very long ago.