Thursday, June 3, 2010

me and louis

lest you think I've stopped loving utah, I must tell you about yesterday's ride.
it was a simple thing, up emigration and down to little dell and back, but I spent most of it swiveling my head back and forth, up to the left, up to the right, admiring the green hillsides and the lush growth spurting from yards along the way. the sky was blue and the pavement was still damp in places from the early morning rain, and the temperature hovered right in the perfect zone for my entire ride. (that would be mid-60's, possibly upper 60's for my descent, sunshine throughout.)
even the road workers were pleasant.
they're getting to know me, I think: they've been patching and filling cracks for the past ten days or so, and they are awfully kind to all of us bicyclists whipping through between their SLOW and STOP signs.
(but as I reflect on this, I've decided that I'm full of self-aggrandizement to think that they're recognizing me. hundreds, if not a thousand, of bikers must past them during the day, and who am I to think that they're remembering little old me? )
the most beautiful piece yesterday was the scene to my east as I rode through the golf course: the foothills are thick with green growth, rounding and shaded in each groove and crevasse. the golf course itself has never looked richer, and the sweet air, cool and just slightly damp, completed my magical experience.

it all brings to mind a conversation I had last weekend about riding bicycles in different locales. one could fly across the ocean to ride in hawaii or france, or one could drive 2000 miles to ride in maine and vermont, or one could leave from their own driveway. each experience would be rich and distinguishable from the others, but it is terribly difficult to rank them. I know I talked up the ouray to red mountain pass ride, and I was truly awed by my experience there, but as I looked at our snow-dusted mountain peaks today I fell right back into my spot of loving this place in which I live and ride.

my conclusion, then, is that there are so many beautiful, stunning, awe-inspiring places in this world in which I might ride my bicycle that I will never be able to experience even a small percentage of them. I choose to be grateful for each one I do encounter, and will work toward discovering more of them close to home as I fill up my piggy bank for the ones somewhat farther away.

picture if you will louis armstrong's generous cheeks and twinkling eyes, his gentle girth and his love for making music, and perhaps you'll even be able to hear his voice in your head singing the chorus of one of my very favorite ~ and appropriate, today ~ songs:

and I think to myself,
what a wonderful world . . .

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