The Faster I Pedal...

...the more treacherous the ride.

I never expected this: a cycling season that began the first week of March when temperatures soared absurdly to July heights. 

I’ve since pedaled my way to the end of May.  I’ve logged over three hundred miles already...as compared to the fact that, last year, I only began cycling in June.

I count the miles and chart my progress.  I can’t believe what I’m seeing.  I’m riding so much farther, stronger, faster than I was riding by mid-summer last year. 

I’m only just beginning. 

I’ve become more proficient.  I shift through gears efficiently.  My pedal cadence is steadier.  I sweep through corners faster.  I descend hills at speeds I never matched last summer.

The thrill-seeker in me revels.  But the humble soul knows: the faster I pedal...the more treacherous the ride.

I’ve crashed at speed on a motorcycle.  It hurt.

I spilled on my bicycle several weeks ago.  It hurt.

I think about such things on long, fast descents. 

It’s all a metaphor.  

The harder the effort, the greater the passion, the bigger the risk, the more enticing the thrill...the harder the fall, the greater the damage and pain unimaginable..

Even so. 

I’ll try to pedal faster for longer tomorrow...and the day after that. 

I know no other way.

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