Deep in February when the ancient snow still grips the ground and the roads are a foreboding and sloppy mixture of crusted ice and pooled, black water and darkness leaves late and comes early, we bicyclists dream of early spring mornings when the sunlight gilds the first mist and the roads are clear and empty of traffic and every turn in the road opens onto newly mown meadows where creeks are still laughing and running white and the air is still cool enough to chill the legs on the downhills. We dream of those places where the country roads are nearly overgrown by new foliage of the great oaks and poplars and of riding into those natural tunnels and feeling the temperature drop and the shaded air buoy you up.
This was such a morning.
I was on the road before eight and headed up the river, away from town and into the hills and countryside. Got just over 29 miles in and climbed over 2000 feet.
Feeling of accomplishment, relaxation and gratitude = priceless.
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