My Mind Wanders

My mind floats free when I"m riding. The warm weather lured me into a hooky attitude and I snuck out of school by three-thirty. I was home, spandex on, tires pumped, water bottles filled, and off on a ride by four. Riding is the place where my mind wanders. The repetitive motion of my legs, the steady audible in-and-out breathing create a trance like state for my mind. It's meditative. I think of nothing and everything all at once. It goes a lot like this:

I'm cold. Should've worn a heavy shirt. No, it's okay, I just need to ride a bit and I'll warm up.

Did I pump the tires enough? One of them seems like it's rubbing a little. I better get it into the shop to have the full spring tune-up.

God, what a beautiful day. I'm so lucky to be out here. I feel so strong. That winter time on the spin bike has helped. I think this year won't be such a miserable transition to up my miles.

Whoa! Dog! There are a lot of dogs out today. I miss my Ringo. And I feel guilty. I feel so guilty. I am out here riding and I probably wouldn't be if Ringo were still here. I'd be walking him. But I do like the freedom. I feel bad to even say it but the freedom is, well, free-ing.

Oh good. I am warming up. I even need to pull up my sleeves. Is my blubber hanging over my shorts a little? I think so. Oh God. I can't really look but when I feel my stomach, it feels softer than it should. A little roll over the edge. Damn that extra slice of pizza last night. Why do I complain about the muffin top when I, without thought, inhaled that extra piece of pizza last night? I only regretted it. Oh well. Keep riding. That'll help.

The mountains look so beautiful in the distance. The snow-capped peaks with the sun sneaking through the clouds....I am giddy with the anticipation that summer is coming. I love summer. I love being able to be lazy and ride a hundred miles all in one day. Sleep in, leisurely drink coffee, peruse a magazine, enjoy a chapter in my book, and then, only when I'm ready, I go off and ride. All. Day. Long.

Oh look! All these backyards butt up against a park. Wouldn't that be a great place to raise children? I always wanted something like that for Louis and Noelia. When we'd have snow days, they would've been able to go out in the park, like an extended back yard, and build igloos and snowmen and tunnel. Louis used to love to tunnel. He'd sit out there in his little snowsuit, bring a bag lunch with a little thermos with hot cocoa. He'd even beg to spend the night out there and that's when I'd have to put my foot down. Or maybe join him? And in the summer, they could swing with friends, play a game of soccer or football, have a lemonade stand along the path, run with the dog....and then, all of a sudden, a sadness so overwhelming envelopes me. I can't breathe. I really can't breathe. I have to stop for a minute. Sadness about never giving that to my children. The perfect little life. The snowmen and hot cocoa and extended backyard with friends. I will never be able to give that to them. Ever. My chance is gone. They are grown up. Gone. Their father and I divorced. A strain of sadness is now so intermixed in their childhood that even the happy memories get intermingled with a nostalgia and doubt that they were ever truly happy memories. I am standing on the bike path straddling my bike and I am crying. Divorce sucks.

I manage somehow to get back on the bike, slow at first, and then the rhythm of my legs and breath bring me back to my meditation.

Life is so curious. I am so happy and so sad all at the same moment. Life is so good. My children are healthy and happy and growing into amazing and interesting adults. Stevie is my rock and I have a deep contentment about us. My job is equally satisfying and challenging.

But the sadness has a loud voice too. The failed marriage. The demons that continue to haunt. My father's death. The many ways I fall short. The continual disappointments. My insecurities that I pay too much brain rent to. The fears that hold me back.

Life is so curious. It is like a bike ride. It wanders and meanders and floats. Like my thoughts. On a bike ride. On a warm Tuesday afternoon.