I left my house this morning, later than I intended, for my scheduled 75-minute bike ride feeling tired and more than a little sore from the strength work I did earlier this week.
The weather here has been hot and humid – in the 90s, and every morning the humidity is really high. Today our (thankfully air-conditioned) house was coated in condensation, and it was already in the mid 80s when I left. My warm up was slow, then, because it was hard to breathe and I was hot. Already.
But I’ve been playing with my workouts lately; finding a quiet space within the fatigue where I can keep going for what seems like hours and hours. And today was a workout where that would be possible, some aerobic work with a nice low heart rate.
So I kept pedaling, making my way from the pothole-strewn main road to the glassy, buttery new pavement on some quiet side streets in a quiet tiny town near mine. As the sun came out, my muscles loosened up, I was pedaling faster and more easily.
And all of a sudden, I’m struck with a memory: Getting out of the pool on a hot, sticky, July day, putting my jelly sandals on, and riding my bike in my neighborhood streets, clad only in my bathing suit, racing down the road, the wind in my face, the sun on my back.
Some of the happiest moments of my childhood were spent on my bike in the summer.
I love the feeling that regular exercise brings: endorphins and balance and happiness. I felt this when I was just running, of course.
But biking brings me such joy.
I am so very thankful for it.