Not every ride delivers happy satisfaction. That’s not to say the ride is not good, but not always something I would describe as fun. Right now it is in the mid forties, raining, and dark. I have to leave for work in a few minutes and I can honestly say I don’t think the ride will be fun. But I am looking forward to it.
This past weekend I did an early morning ride on Sunday and it was not a ride I would categorize as fun. The temperature was in the high 20’s when I left and a heavy frost covered the ground. I wasn’t cold but aware that the temperature was something to manage. I paused for a long minute at the end of the driveway wondering where I was going and finally turned down the hill with absolutely no destination in mind. It wasn’t until about 50 miles later that I had a destination in mind —- home.
The ride was compelling though not fun. I found myself looking carefully at the landscape, the road, and just absorbing it. I didn’t know where I was going, not that I was lost in the sense of not knowing where I was but lost in the sense that the ride was without expectation. It was movement and experience. Everything seemed to fall away except for that. I stopped often to look around at rocks and plants and just smell the fall air. Color and light was center stage and I was there to witness it. And it was cold. I stopped near a lake to eat a sandwich and the wind was so harsh that I ate with my riding gloves on and wishing for a hat.
I returned home 76 miles after leaving the driveway. It was a good ride and was good to be lost and without a plan. And it was good to recognize that I don’t have to come home thinking “Wow, that was fun!”.
Time to pull on the gear, ride to work and get wet. My dog doesn’t even want to be outside.
A ride to nowhere is sometimes the best kind of ride there is…
Were you really lost? One of my guiding principles is “Not all wander are lost”. I figure I’m never really lost if I don’t care where the road goes.
I do have to admit that there have been cold, wet, rides where I wondered if I was ever going to get home. On those rare times the destination became MUCH more important than the journey.
Dan
snark: I agree but sometimes my head forgets that and the conflict between where I am going and what I’m doing gets weird.
irondad: I wasn’t lost in the physical sense but was in a mental sense. I certainly wasn’t wandering like Strider. Not sure exactly what was going on but what ever it was it wasn’t bad. Gee, that sounds like the comment the Kenda Distributor made about Gary’s sponsored riding on Kenda tires…..
Anyways, off to work.