I drove a stretch of road yesterday that I have ridden many times, and I felt a physical aching, a missing of my bike. my ruby. (she's a Specialized Ruby Expert, and although I do tend to call her a "her," I try to limit my anthropomorphizing to just that.)
and today a blizzard is coating our world in a thick, white, slippery blanket that will probably keep me off her for the next little while, so I am sure to experience another pang or two during the coming weeks.
it's okay. it's part of the program.
because, as Ralph Waldo Emerson once stated,
For everything you have missed, you have gained something else, and for everything you gain, you lose something else.
I can't have it all. I need to give, I need to rest, I need to expand my horizons and incorporate new experiences into my life. like a field lying fallow, we become more vital and vibrant by leaving the known and loved and exposing ourselves to challenges, that which is unfamiliar, and at times, repose.
snow is good for this.
tonight we have been warned to stay off the roads and cocoon ourselves in the safety of our own homes. the storm may dump half a dozen inches or more on my little house in the city, and maybe twice that on houses on the hill. when we wake tomorrow it may be to a soft, gentle, slow world.
I won't be able to take ruby out for a spin, and my morning workout has already been cancelled in anticipation of untravel-able roads. instead, I'll gain the beautifully peaceful feeling of being in my warm, safe home, where all is just as it should be.
and then maybe I'll go for a run.
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