Donnerstag, 12. Januar 2017

A snuffkin ride and an escape

Somebody once said: You can´t run away from your problems. A mountainbike ad ca 1990 said:" Whoever said: "You can´t run away from your problems"... obviously wasn´t going fast enough.". I don´t want to decide which one was right.

Fact is, I think a lot more than is good for my own good, and I tend to discuss matters far too much. But there is a point where you just have to call it a day. Or a life, at that. And then try your best to make some new beginnings or whatever.

Take for instance this as an example.

The sun is shining brightly, with that wonderful light I love, golden and radiant and the sky oh so clear and blue. What to do, then? Brooding over your mishaps? Yeah, I did. And fortunately, the next day still was radiant and wonderful, and I was sick of myself. And I saddled my steed, the first time for a long period of time. Again I had gone into my own trap and quit riding.

The first strokes into the ride were agony, but then my muscles realized what was expected from them to do, and everything fell into place. I took it slow, however, and arrived at the hilltops not exhausted for a change.
The sun was bright, but it was really cold. No frost, however... and I took in the clean, crisp air with relish. I believe there can be a starvation out of lack of forest air, and I was near starving. It felt really good to be outside and get in some scenery and exercise in the bargain!
I cannot tell how often my friends and I were sitting on that private airport´s lane at night, stargazing and drinking, telling tall tales and making wild plans where to ride and what we had seen already... and the place thrums with memories of the good kind.
On I rode into the deep twilight. The shadows were crisp as was the air, in stark contrast to the light that was almost painfully bright.
My beaten and battered bike has taken me so many places... and I am grateful to have seen all the tings I did, the big drops and insane singletrails, the sheer rock and the peaceful fireroads. In no way it is a bling ride, and I would love to take more care of it, but as is, it does a good job of taking me places, and I love it all the more for all the nicks and scratches and broken tubes. They tell a story.
No radical technical riding, just some cruising the fireroads and smelling the roses...
...and then, on the very top of things, a flask of hot and cozy, rosy tea.
...a drink of trees in a cuppa tea.

The place was silent and peaceful and I took it in to take it home.

When the sun was sinking, I made for my way home...
...through the darkening winter twilight.

It was nothing special, really. And you have read a lot of posts like this on my blog. But that´s the culprit. Sometimes you have to do something that is nothing special.

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