Returning from God's Country after a holiday weekend ride.
I put in the miles this Memorial Day Weekend, Gentle Readers of This Blog--but sorry for forgetting the camera, and then just being too much into the ride to pull the camera out and take a few shots for you.
Meeting up with Ron, and riding with a chap just a bit stronger than you--and with a desire and passion to discover every mile of this place--we rode at break-neck speeds and covered many a Summer Kansas mile.
Saturday was a fierce early morning ride to beat thunderstorms and a tornado or two--I kid you not! That was the morning I forgot the camera, mes amis. But is was cold and over-cast and we had to wear arm and leg warmers--what? In May? Yes we did!
Sunday morning we were set for yet another ride, Ron and me. Little Egypt however woke up and we had a bit of a row about me doing the Useless Bruceless Thing where I slip out the door at 5:30 am to return at Noon--all sunburned, covered with sweat and dirt from the road. Then I stumble around half-asleep--snoozing in the car on the way to the grocery store, falling asleep and snoring at the mall in one of those man-chairs while she's in the Petites...
I finally convinced Little E to let me out the door--and I sprinted off to meet Ron the Lion Heart at our rendezvous point. I can put in 50 miles and be back home before Little Egypt wakes up to the little birds singing Zip a dee Do Dah Sunday morning here in Interzone--but again, mes amis, she caught me but then let me go after all.
One thing about a road you've never been on is that point of no return. You hope that traffic will be light, the headwind far-off sleeping on his hairy back still, and maybe a bit of shoulder. We had all these and a bit more as we set out North of Lawrence past the furthest I've ever been on the road out of town.
With a strong tail wind we glided swiftly out of site of the city, and we were in, I do believe, a spot where God He Himself stepped down to take in a bit of his work around the place. I mean the crops were in the fields and emerald green and singing in the morning sun! Cows were in the green pastures being quite happy and small calves stopped for a look at us, then kicked up their heels and ran with us. Horses shone in the sun on the hills and seemed to want to come along. We saw sheep, and goats. Roosters did the cock a doodle do as we slipped past. The hills were rolling and smooth and the road black and healthy-looking like the earthy-smelling soil and mud.
So then it goes that you're not a big Clydesdale pushing a Mighty Trek on West Hwy 24--the thing happens where you're like a living wind--one with your breathing, your pedals, the road--and your eyes open.
The land is so green--and so alive--from every blade of grass to the little mouse peering at you from the cat tails on the side of the road. My goodness but there's a little village up ahead, and the speed you're going puts it in the perspective as it were a large living post card--the old houses (look new and straight and fresh) from the 1850's--(those first Kansas people) and a little church with cars parked around--then a wide turn--and there is the Old Cemetery containing those first Kansas people--and their children, and their grand-children, and great-grand children (all who lived to be very old themselves) and the crisp rows of Red White and Blue flags everywhere. Everyone Loved and Remembered this morning.
Where am I? What Road is this? It is almost a dream like place--I have to tell you that I am contained in my helmet and clipped in the pedals and reality is the bike and the road. But somehow we have ventured into a few moments of the Great Mystery.
It's not a scary place or creepy--there's no angels singing and God does not speak to you such that you shit your pants and have some sort of life-altering freak-out. Stay in the moment. Stay clipped in. Stay in your saddle. Reflect back at home and at work or before you hit the sack and go to sleep for the night that you have truly and ever-so-lightly tread where Heaven Meets Earth.