Thursday, April 7, 2011

that 206 mile thing

it's here.
officially, I'm two days late in commenting on it.
I have five more day before I'm too late to sign up.
and I don't really want to talk about it.

maybe that's because it's gray outside, ugly and windy and disheartening to someone (me) who wants it to be gloriously spring. it's hard to dredge up enthusiasm for a twelve-hour bike ride when I only want to be snugly wrapped in a blanket, sitting on my couch, reading a book or perhaps even dozing.

my legs are tired. my hips are in that painful transition back into yoga, where their ridiculously-tight selves are being asked to loosed up and relax. (yes, I could still add more pigeons to my life.) I've squeezed in a few bike rides lately, alternating between toe covers and full booties, braving the temps the other day by wearing capris instead of full tights.
I'm tired of full gloves.
I'm tired of headbands, beanies, and jackets.
I'm tired of goosebumps and shivers and ice cream headaches from the cold.
and I'm really, really tired of gray.

yesterday the sun shone brilliantly for hours. everything seemed possible: I even thought about visiting the lotoja website and signing up. today gloom has resettled itself upon us, and there's no way I'm going to

the grass outside my window is greening up nicely, but it's also bent over sideways, and a few straggling leaves dance past every now and again. bare branches bend and dip, and my terribly brave daffodils bob and dance, their stems more resilient than I can imagine, having survived the blizzard last sunday and continuing to lift their heads skyward.
I should pay attention to those daffodils.
it's not just their heads that lift high, they are lit by a life force that begins in their roots and continues upward, strengthening the stalk and enabling this cheery, faithful, tolerant, irrepressible life form to thrive regardless of what the world throws its way.
take a lesson, susan.

gray comes and goes.
sometimes it lingers longer than I'd like it to. sometimes it colors my world in a way I wish it wouldn't. sometimes it's so thick I forget that there's blue up there, above it, just waiting to have access to my space again.

206 miles isn't really that far, is it? and twelve hours isn't really that long to ride a bike, is it?
nope. not really.
it's all possible.
if those darn daffodils out there can do it, so can I.

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