Two hours at a time...
That seems to be the pace of my latest recovery. I've been taking two-hour rides, mainly in and around my neighborhood. I probably could ride longer, but I am following the orthopedic doctor's advice and erring on the side of caution.
Even so, the rides are invigorating--and interesting:
It would have been one thing to find something like this house in one of this city's Chinatowns--in lower Manhattan, Flushing or Sunset Park. But this house is on Anthony Avenue, in a neighborhood that is almost entirely Hispanic and African American. About half a mile to the north is Fordham University and the Arthur Avenue district, often called "the Little Italy of the Bronx."
When you look at the adjoining house, you can see that its bones, so to speak, are like those of nearby houses, even if the skin, if you will, is that of an ashram.
When I looked at it for a couple of minutes, its location seemed a little less incongruent. After all, I had to pedal up a hill--not steep or long, but a hill nonetheless--to reach it. Also, since Zen practice is not (at least as I understand it) about social status or material wealth, it may make sense that it's in a neighborhood that hasn't been struck by gentrification.
Whatever the reasons why it is where it is, seeing it made the ride more interesting--and caused me to forget about the slowness of my recovery.
