The weather was good. Warm and dry. I had the day off, which makes for some pretty simple mathematics. I decided to skip out on the weight room and ride for an extra hour instead. I got dressed. Bibs and leg warmers, because it was warm, short sleeves with arm warmers and the soft shell jacket I picked up for free from work. I tossed some food into my jersey pockets zipped up the jacket and rolled out.
Once again I go up through the cemetery, I can’t explain why its one of my favorite places but for me there is comfort among the grave stones. Like I pedal out my secrets to the bodies that can’t listen, and therefore can’t speak them to anyone else. The Lady has been in California for the last week, but she comes home tonight. Once this ride is over, I have a bunch of cleaning to do. But right now the sun is out and I’m riding and the dishes can wait.
After the cemetery I drop back into downtown by way of OHSU. A guy sticks close to my wheel, putting his faith in me and pushing my lackluster descending skills. But things go off without a hitch and we both make it downtown without a problem.
Downtown is a noisy contrast to the serenity of the stones at the beginning of my ride. That’s fine, the sun is out and I’m in leg warmers. The sun isn’t new, that’s been hanging around a lot recently. The leg warmers though, they are new. The last week has been cold and clear. So cold that tights, over socks and overboots with some hotties tucked inside. Today I’m only rocking the over socks.
Thoughts about the weather, leave me longing for the warmth of summer and the feeling of speed that comes from freshly shaven legs. I’ll always be a Clevelander, but my body has become that of a Northwesterner. Temps that were once laughable now freeze my toes, and make me wish I had stayed inside. Simple thoughts like that pass the time passes until I start up NW Lovejoy/Cornell. There I’m reminded that climbing is hard when you don’t do it enough.
Then it’s over and as I ride along skyline I can see the valley encased in fog. I left without a plan and now I have one. At Springvale I reached down and turned on the light permanently attached to the seat post and descend into the fog. Immediately I’m reminded of Fuente dropping through a fog in The Greatest Show on Earth, which I always confuse with The Greatest Story Ever Told, which gives up how much the simple act of riding means to me.
I’m riding as if I’m in a dream. Those dishes can wait.