Went on a bike ride this morning, and for the first time in Florida I think, felt that euphoric feeling and closeness with nature that always kept me riding in the past. At one point I came up this little rise on A1A, and the ocean just opened up next to me. Most of the time on A1A you actually can’t see the ocean. But this section was a high section, and the trees just opened up, and there was the ocean. It was so beautiful. The morning sun was hitting it, and it looked so blue. I really could’ve been on the PCH riding north instead of on A1A riding south. I was crankin’ in my big chain ring and I could feel the road under my tires and the wind in my face, and I just took a big ol’ breath of God. Now I remember. Were my high school days, riding and having such a close community in my cycling team, really the closest I’ve ever come to true Church? Every day experiencing the pillars of faith–true community and true worship–out on that road with just two tires beneath me.
The morning air was somewhat cool, and it had that morning, clean smell. It rained a lot last night. It really was a new day.
It could’ve been Tucson 1995 for all I knew.
It could have been lost somewhere in the hills of PA, 1992 or all I knew.