November 10/18: 63 Kms; 2 Hrs, 23; 476 Metres; Four Riders

Well, hello there.

Did you rollover in bed this morning and pull the pillow over your head to drown the roar of the wind? Did you jump out of bed with a bounce in your step and a song in your heart at the prospect of a new day.

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference. RF

How many indistinguishable moments in a lifetime? How many in a year, each slipping away unnoticed, unmarked, and unfulfilled? A long life is a short life – even Methuselah is dead. What does one, anyone, remember of lying in bed. It’s getting up and confronting the day that creates memories. We had such a day. It’s rare for a bicycle ride to disappoint. Pedalling is elemental, a simple pleasure reaching back into childhood, and freedom – before books and consequences.

Still, some rides are difficult, arduous even; and, are enjoyed in remembrance more than in actuality. To-day’s answer to “How was the ride?” was that this Blog is BS when it extols the virtues of cycling and understates the effort, written as it is in the warmth and comfort of a den and far removed from the real cold and wind and climbs and treacherous roads encountered. The reality, we worked hard into a heavy cross-head wind for much of the ride and had to negotiate tricky patches of ice and snow especially on Goshen. Our fingers and toes were tingling from the cold; the mind tingling with anticipation and the heart warm with the coursing blood of life.

The effort paid dividends, however, when we turned at Burnstown for White Lake and then SW for Arnprior. It doesn’t get better than this. Okay, fair enough, it was fun, I think. But thinking is insufficient to the experience. It’s the feeling that I recall/remember. And, that was great. Nothing quite like the afterglow of a hard effort, cheeks ablaze, hands cupped around a hot mug of coffee, apres ride chatter and banter filling the air. Ah, delicious memories to feast on down through the years.

All said, you guessed it; there will be no ride on Sunday.

Group riding – Mandatory Reading

Ask yourself, where else would you rather be when the alarm rings on a weekend morning than on your bicycle pedalling away the fatty bits? You know you’ll just want to be there.

What I’m listening to: Cat Stevens

Okay, Stay fit, fine, firm always! Bye-bye, ac.

Look forward to hearing from you at arnpriorcycling@bell.net;
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Great things are done when men and mountains meet;
This is not done by jostling in the street. WB