Bicycling in the Wind

As I began my morning bike ride, I quickly noticed a fifteen to twenty mile per hour wind blowing from the east. Since the first leg of my ride is toward the west, I enjoyed the wind at my back and bike-ride memories of my youth — a time when I could ride hard, long and fast — a time when I could ride hard while whistling Moon River. Those were the days when my tires and my life seemed to spin with very little effort in whatever direction I chose.
Today, my ride back was met with a strong head wind and thoughts of what it must be like to be a great deal older than I am now — how difficult it must be to just keep riding. I thought about the courage it takes to not come up with reasons to stop riding. I felt sad for the times when I have been impatient with an older person facing the wind, slowly and cautiously struggling to ride at all. I looked around and saw a bird, a lizard, and some clouds that I would have missed in my youth. I realized that getting older is not so much about slowing down as it is about seeing life from a broader perspective. Suddenly, I found my mind spinning. I could hear the old folksong, Coming Home, beautifully woven into the New World Symphony. I was coming home; the adventure continues.

Bob Luckin. ©
14 December 2013