The former bicycle racer looked outside and thought, "It's a good day for a ride." The early morning sunlight reflected off the mountains, and the air was clean and still, but warm enough.
He hadn't been faithful the last few years - faithful to riding that was, and when he did get out, every ride felt like a first ride, a get re-acquainted ride. Sometimes his bicycle felt like a strange machine, twitching first left, then right, as he tried to recall how to relax and make it work. His pedaling came in fits and bursts, out of sync with his breathing, the bicycle, and the road.
This year, however, had been a little different. Not lots of riding, but more, and more frequently, and the rider and machine were starting to recall the dance they once knew. Coming down a slight grade onto the flat, he allowed himself the big chainring, and started pushing. The power was flowing in a continuous circle, his breathing was deep, steady. He reveled in the old feelings and sounds as the velocity induced headwind began whistling in his ears. "Yeah," he thought, "I can still do this!"
Lost in his exultation, he was taken by surprise as current bike racer pedaled fluidly, inexorably past him. His back flat, his arms relaxed, and his shaven calves pumping like two extra hearts to propel him at speeds long forgotten by former racer.
Former racer wasn't accustomed to being passed, and for an instant, he started increasing his pace, recognizing the implicit challenge of the other rider. Just as quickly, his body reminded him of his infidelity: The mounting burn in his legs, the increasing tempo of his breathing that threatened to spiral out of control. Chastened, he dropped his tempo back to what it had been, allowing the challenge to go unanswered.
"Oh well," he recalled. "Its still a good day for a ride."
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