Thursday, July 23, 2009

night riders

last night after dinner, john and I started driving toward emigration canyon to escape the city heat for a few moments. before we'd even reached the mouth, we passed a handful of cyclists, pedaling away in that 89 degree warmth.
at least a dozen cyclists were coming down the canyon as we moved up, and a few were ascending as well. it was sometime between 8:30 and 9, and the sky was losing light with each passing moment.
at the summit, we parked the car and walked along a service road for a while, breathing in the view from the entire circle of available directions, and watching the sky continue to darken as it released the last dancing particles of the last faint rays of sun.
as we returned to the car, we watched 2 cyclists preparing for their descent back into the city, rear taillights flashing and strong headlights cutting through the dusk.
I wanted to be on one of those bikes.

I love my early morning rides, and I even love them more as the days shorten and the dark hours of night inch deeper into my ride. it is cool, it is quiet and sparsely populated with humans. I love this, and can't imagine giving it up.
but last night I felt the pull of an evening ride, headlighted and jacketless, reaching the cool 69 degrees at the summit and turning to head back down to the heated bowl of the city.
it was the headlight that really got me.
that sense of adventure, of defying common sense and logic. of waiting until it will be dark for part of your ride, of the risk of compromised sight and intensified energy coursing through your body.

it is still hot---we are to reach a triple-digit high today---and it feels like summer has taken firm hold of us and dug its heels in, but the days have already begun to shrink, and their ends on either side will just become darker and darker as we move through the next month.
I will have plenty time for headlights.
but last night teased me, placing a tickly little idea in my mind.
thus I know I will be scheduling an evening ride sometime in the near future, so I, too, can join those lighted creatures whose nocturnal proclivities so enticed me as I stood atop my favorite canyon last evening.

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