By the time I slowed down yesterday I had already ridden to the woods, run a lap of Munson and Twilight, banked onto Capital Circle and back into the woods, two hours away from my point of departure. Some news will do that to you.
It was one of those days where seemingly unrelated points converge, like staring at a stereogram and watching a static of color instantly materialize as a mountain landscape. Come July, I know my life is going to change. How it will change has yet to be determined.
I’m only talking about work here, so don’t get too wild in your speculations.
Still, while riding my thoughts into some sense of order I experienced the euphoria of moving with a tide beyond my control. This feeling was in part the relief of the pessimist who knows things will fall apart and can only relax when that expectation is realized. All the time spent filling the hurricane box justified with the lighting of the first emergency candle. I remember feeling the same way the night Mystery and I stopped in the mountains of North Carolina, defeated for the night and committed to a cold, dark wait without food or water. The relief of surrender made me giddy.
Now? It doesn’t matter. I have my health and the rest are details of setting and circumstance. The loss of one option, to continue unchanged, revealing a whole world of new possibilities.
Time to win the future.