I had a crummy day yesterday and wasn't in the mood to do much of anything but doing nothing always makes me feel worse, so Kenny and I did a big-loop ride after work. I felt okay starting out but then we hit the bridge and, damn. I hadn't ridden across that bridge since an acquaintance of mine tragically (and somewhat mysteriously) fell off it while riding his bike home a few weeks ago. The guard rail is a solid five feet high. I don't understand. I've been messed up over it and having weird dreams about it and was dreading being back on it.
The spot where he fell was covered in flowers and pictures and it made me cry. We stopped for a few minutes afterwards so I could pull myself together and I looked up at the sky and around at the beautiful afternoon and made the firm decision to just ride and enjoy the day as the gift that it is. Sometimes that's the best you can do, you know?
And it worked. It wasn't the fastest I've ever gone and I didn't overcome any new obstacles, but I fully enjoyed being outside, feeling the setting sun on my skin, wreathed in the smell of blooming honeysuckle and marvelling at how green everything is this time of year. Oh, and we saw a beaver! It hauled ass to get away from us and, I have to tell you, there's nothing funnier than a beaver hauling ass.
On the way home we took the winding uphill route via Riverside Drive and I was just plodding along (which is what I do on paved uphill surfaces) when I heard a strange whirring noise coming up fast on my left. Before I could even process it two road cyclists had passed me like I was standing still. I yelled to Kenny,
"Dang! I was wondering what that noise was. I guess that's what fast sounds like, huh."
The road cyclists got to the top of the hill and dammit it if they didn't turn right back around and go back down the hill.
" Heeey...did they do that whole climb just to pass us?"
"Yes. Yes they did."
Anyway, it was what I needed. I don't know that I'll ever cross that bridge again without thinking about Jonny, but that's what keeps someone's memory alive, is it not?