Climbing Mt Hood By Bike

There is no end to the adventure available within a single day. It’s a fact so easy to forget, when my day can so easily glide by in a mindless stream of must-do’s and have-to’s, interrupted by entertaining media and gustatory distraction. But as I lifted my bike into my car yesterday morning, arms empty of effort, body drained of gusto, yet full of what I knew would be satisfaction once I could only sleep, I felt this thought poignantly and clearly. A man walked past with a tiny dog and a newspaper under his arm.  His day was just beginning, maybe to glide by as mine often do. He couldn’t know the depth and infinite length of my day, which had begun the calendar day before, leaving this house at 3:30 in the afternoon to climb Mt Hood by bike. Had I looked at me then, I might not have seen it either. I might have smelled it though.

The Author and his steed, moments before the bike to Mt Hood

The Author and his steed, moments before the bike to Mt Hood

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