Bike Ride Beautiful

It is such beautiful day, such a beautiful day that it would have been a sin against nature not to go out into it and enjoy it.  The snow no longer covers the ground.  The air, though crisp, is no longer freezing; indeed, it is nearly warm enough to stand out in the sunlight and simply luxuriate in the rays of the sun, enjoying the tingle of it on the skin.

We could not resist the call of the sun and the clear blue sky; we got our bikes down from the loft and pumped up the tires and tightened up the handle bars and strapped our helmets to our heads and took off, down the street, feeling the smoothness of the rubber tires against the asphalt road, dodging occasional ruts and bumps and potholes and other denizens of the deep winter's damage.  We didn't let them discourage us from our quest.  We wanted to ride.

We did not ride for a long time nor for a long distance; our intent was not to see how far we could go, nor how long we could last, but simply to go, to ride, to stretch, to feel the wind in our faces and the road beneath our feet, to enjoy a momentary celebration of the coming spring; to grasp just a taste of what is to come, to savor it in the moment of time in which we found ourselves, to then retire into the house after our slight adventure was over and dream of the opportunity we know is coming, to do it again and again.  When the springtime really comes.

And it will come.  We can feel it.  Though there may be days in-between with cooler temperatures and precipitation, perhaps even more snow; yet we will not despair because we know that, eventually, winter comes to an end and spring begins, and bicycles will be ridden again.