The Way Back

I was rifling through my basket of workout clothes yesterday looking for knickers and a long-sleeved jersey, trying to muster enthusiasm for a short ride and run.

Then I heard the ding-ding of a text message.

R u riding today? K and I are looking for a new, pretty route.

Friends! To ride with! I could hardly contain my excitement.

Yes!!! I texted back within seconds.

I fired off an email to Craig letting him know I was swapping my short ride and 40-minute run for a longer ride of unknown duration, the pace of which might be mellow, or hard, or a tantalizing combo of chat-friendly pedaling and heart-pumping hammering. With friends!

Christine and Keith arrived about an hour later and we took off up the hill into rolling woodland where a canopy of autumn leaves lights your way along roads so quiet dogs sleep where the double-yellow should be. Where houses peek through trees from the ends of winding dirt driveways. Where I have ridden solo so much this year that, now that it's the off-season, loneliness has overshadowed my enthusiasm for getting on my bike.

We chatted randomly, marveling at the sudden proliferation of McC/P placards in yards, the helicopter that hovered over the course at Keith's CX race the day before, the sheer number of farm animals we pedaled by (was that... a donkey?!).

As we hummed along making our lefts and rights onto the pristine streets, each more beautiful than the last, it began to feel like what happens when you pile a bunch of coworkers into your car and suddenly see what a mess you've been driving around in. Only I was seeing the sheer beauty of these roads as if for the first time.

Then we got to Route 563, the Lehigh Valley Steelman course, and the road I affectionately call "my least favorite stretch of roadway in PA." I warned them our perfect ride was about to end.

We made the left, swooping wide onto the 10-foot shoulder, safely removed from speeding traffic. I thought about the rides I'd done here this year: Aside from two or three pleasant rides with Erica, I spent hours training on this road alone, looking straight ahead, pedaling hard, all for about 1 hour and 20 minutes of racing.

As I apologized for breaking our reverie, I glanced around. The leaves on either side, though just past their peak, were a brilliant contrast to the cloudless sky. To the right, sailboats dotted the lake. And we were heading east, where the road rolls gently downhill and even when you think you're on an uphill rise, you still fly.

We ducked down and hammered and stopped talking. Snot and wind-triggered tears whooshed along my cheeks and I thought I'd never ridden on such a gorgeous stretch of roadway on a more perfect day. And I realized that, through the filter of friends, even an old and uninteresting route can lead me back to the reason it's worth getting on my bike: Because I love to ride.