a few weeks ago someone said to me, gosh, it's starting to feel like fall.
I didn't think so. maybe a cooler than usual summer day, but not fall.
then the other day I was riding and someone pointed out how the trees were beginning to change color.
I thought to myself, well, not very many of them.
I've been in denial, and today, I finally acknowledged fall.
today I had a glorious ride. it was 50 chilly degrees when I started, yet the sky was true blue and the sun powered down over the eastern foothills, warming my body if not quite the air around it.
I rode up emigration, intending to take it easy. instead, the universe took it easy on me: there was no headwind coming down the canyon, in fact, the air was barely moving, just offering perhaps a mere shiver as it waited to be warmed by the sun.
this is a treat.
the shady spots were cold, and my kneecaps and cheekbones felt it most. yet the air was dry and clean and ripe with the pungency of fall: wood fires burning in fireplaces, damp and decaying leaves, and occasionally, someone's well-done toast all sent messages drifting toward me as I rode through the sun dappled canyon.
it is fully fall, and it was scrumptious to be wearing a jacket and toe covers and to be just on that narrow edge between chilly and cold.
I felt good today, capable and strong enough to be in charge of the hill, instead of the hill being in charge of me. I've been fearful I would never experience that feeling again . . .
so I think my toe covers are staying on the shoes, now, and I hope to revisit all my favorite peaks over the next month or so. I hope to do so leisurely, strongly, and with an expanded appreciation for just how fortunate I am to be doing so much of what I love to do.