It’s early morning but the sun is already up and shining low through the trees. I push my bike out of the garage, close the door and get on. I feel the breeze on my face as I begin to move, a bit chilly, still, but I know that soon I’ll be grateful for it. The sound of robins, sparrows and dark-eyed juncos fill the morning silence. The mosquitos haven’t gotten up yet, but even if they were around, they wouldn’t be able to catch me.
I speed down the first hill, my squeaky brakes letting any fellow early risers of the four-legged variety know that I’m coming. The last few faded crocuses line the trail and the lupins are in full bloom, their purple-and-white flowers reaching like spires towards the cloudless summer sky. I accelerate around a corner and I feel like a kid. A smile spreads across my face. A spruce grouse flies up out of the bush and into a tree. If it wouldn’t have flown off, I wouldn’t have even known it was there. I glimpse a spot of pink—calypso orchids. Usually I would stop and kneel down to drink in their sweet scent, but I continue on today. I try to even out my breath; in and out, in and out.
The sun is higher now and sweat forms on my brow. It feels good and like a reminder that I’m alive. I feel grateful for my body and for what it allows me to do. I don’t care what I look like; no one can see me here anyway. I pick up speed along a flat, open stretch, dragonflies gliding alongside me for a while, and I’m free. The forest is warming up, and the smell of the pines and the spruce and the forest floor is getting stronger, especially in the sunny patches. I pop a spruce tip into my mouth. Its citrusy, tangy taste lingers on my tongue. In a few weeks I’ll be enjoying wild strawberries as a morning snack, instead. A squirrel darts across the trail and screeches at me from its perch high up on a tree branch. I marvel at the range of sounds an animal so small can make, as I pedal on.
I start to go through my to-do list, in my head, working through all of the things I’ll need to do later. I wonder what time it is. Pressure starts to build in my chest as I start mentally planning my day. The trail gets steeper and I’m brought back into the moment, my sore muscles reminding me of the present and pulling me out of my thoughts. I focus on the movement of my legs and the air getting pulled into my lungs, and I relax again.
A shadow passes over me and I look up just as a raven disappears behind a canopy of poplar leaves. We seem to be heading in the same direction. I’m nearing home now and a part of me would like to just keep going, like the raven above me. I see the first wild roses blooming, as I pull into the driveway, and I’m already looking forward to tomorrow’s ride.
