After stepping outside, I pulled my bicycle from the shed, and gave “Black Betty” a pre-ride inspection. Everything was in working order. I straddled the Felt Broam, strapped on my helmet, hit start on my Garmin GPS, and shoved off. The familiar click of my cleats in the pedals forced the corners of my mouth slightly upward. I’d waited for this ride, this adventure, for days.
The growl in my belly reminded me I needed breakfast, so I pedaled through town to catch the Greenway Trail toward Starbucks. Betty’s tires sung their low rumble on the pavement below. The sounds of city life filled the air. Cars whizzed pass. Horns honked in the distance. Voices chattered. Dogs barked. City sweepers scrubbed the streets with a whirling hum.
I pedaled to the café, ordered bacon cheddar bites, and grabbed a few protein bars for the trip. At the register, one of the baristas asked to take a picture of my 2022 Great Cycle Challenge jersey. To some in Starbucks, I was only a middle-aged man in cycling shorts, but at heart, I was a kid seeking adventure.
Leaving the coffee shop, I hammered down New Forest Highway out of town. The sky hung heavy with humidity and left my skin moist. The noise of town faded to the occasional passing vehicle. Then I turned onto Squirrel Bridge. I settled into my pace and rode, soaking in the experience. This was what I had hoped for all week. As I turned onto Bluefish Road, I noticed the silence. No cars. No voices. Only a few birds chirped as the sand crunched under Betty’s hungry wheels. Although my lungs and legs burned, my heart filled with peace.
I was miles away from the cares of life. The sense of freedom bubbled from the depths of my soul. A grin stretched wide across my face, as I realized the reason I ride. I find happiness and contentment in the solitude found on backroads like Bluefish Road.
Yes, that’s why I ride. Where do you find peace and solitude? I’d like to hear about it in the comment section.
PS- If you’re wondering, the ride was a little over 47 miles long.