There’s something very peaceful, quiet and contemplative about climbing long hills in the rain, alone. To the non-cyclist, this statement appears inane, if not irrational. Even to the casual recreational rider, it doesn’t look like a particularly desirable situation to find oneself in.
But the more I think about it, do it, and talk to others about it, the clearer it becomes: the self-inflicted asceticism of a long hill climb, coupled with the sensory harmony of the rain falling softly on trees, the road, and your body add up to something much greater than the individual parts involved. A good hilly road usually means you’ll be at least partially surrounded by the scenes of nature – greenery, ravines, wildlife, and the fruit of your labors in the view from the top. The pace is not too hard because you know intuitively how much effort you must hold back to make it to the top without blowing up, but at the same time it isn’t easy for the evident reason that hill riding causes you to step beyond a comfort zone.
Tomorrow I’ll wake up early, drink a cup or two of coffee, eat a few choice pieces of fruit, check the weather report and a couple websites, and then lycra up and head out for a ride before my first class. I can only hope for some rain and solitude to spark a few quiet minutes of clarity before trudging into the daily grind of obligations, errands and academia.
