Winning

 

My heart is racing.  Not because I am trying to go hard.  Cresting every hill in the vicinity of where I was chased by that big dog last month, I pedal so very tentatively while carefully scouting my surroundings.   Is the canine going to jump out of the ditch?  I am very much in the here and now.  A few kilometers later, I feel a sigh of relief realizing that the dog didn’t win today.  Climbing towards Johnson’s Mills, I ride into the clouds.  Literally.  The fog is so thick.  And that wind.  Brutal and at the same time so powerfully beautiful.  Descending back along the coast, the fog dissipates a bit as the rugged pavement gives way to dirt and gravel.   It’s still cloudy but much less foggy.  Around the cape, right into Rockport then straight to Slack’s Cove.  I rest my bike against the plaque monument listing the names of settlers that landed there way back in 1763.  Over 250 years ago!  Such a powerful spot.   Standing there, I bask in the spirit energy of all those who had stood there before me.  The thick fog obscures most of the view, but I can still literally see the strong gusts pushing the brume out from the bay of Fundy.  Alone, I meditate on these feelings for a bit before making my way back towards Sackville.  A strong tailwind pushes me out.  Gravel crackling, rocks flying, I’m floating as the sun starts to peak out behind the dissipating cloud cover.  Cackling Goose for lunch.  They know me by name as Mike on the bike.  And they still haven’t sold out of carrot cake yet.  Another win.  I savour every last crumb as I sip on my Chai Latte.  Back to my truck in Dorchester via Walker road, with some more dirt roads behind the Correctional Services Canada shooting range.  75 kilometers.  A most splendid way to spend a Friday off work.  And no charging dog sprints this time !