Have you ever cried at the end of an arduous climb--or any other difficult, or simply long, ride?
I have. I can't tell how I'll react at the end of any ride: I might giggle with giddiness or fall asleep. Or my tears might spill out: sometimes from joy, or as a catharsis.
Yesterday I shed tears of release. They felt, somewhat, like the ones that have rolled down my cheeks after a ride: salty as a tide, but cleansing like the rain.
But I hadn't taken a long, hard, ride--or any ride at all. I had planned to get out on one of my bikes, but I listened to the speeches and performances of yesterday's inauguration. I wasn't expecting much: Even before Trump campaigned for the presidency, I was pretty cynical when it came to political candidates' or office holders' words. Even their most absurd claims or outrageous lies didn't enrage me: They all seemed part of their stock in trade. Never was I moved--as some claimed to be by "Ask not what your country" (I was about two years old when JFK made that speech!)--or by anything else an office-seeker or -holder said on the stump.
Yesterday, though, I couldn't help but to weep while listening to Joe Biden's inaugural speech. He doesn't have the oratorical skills of JFK or Obama, and his words, while important and wise, weren't as stirring as those of Amanda Gorman, the young poet who followed him. In hearing him, though, I knew this: I'd survived. Those tears, the tension leaving my body, were the same as what I'd felt after the most traumatic events of my life--or, more precisely, the moment when I'd processed them, whether through finally talking or writing about them, or going on a ride.
Speaking of which: I am going to ride later today. I haven't decided where, or which bike I'll ride. All I know is that whatever and wherever I ride, whatever came before it is past, like the storm that's moved out to sea--or the tormentor who is gone. At least, I hope they're gone, and all I have is the road ahead.
(For my next post, I'll try not to stray too far away anything related to cycling!)
