Before I unravel myself from the work day, don too many layers for late fall Boulder temps, I envisage what my lunch time ride might look like. Me spinning effortlessly along trails, sun shining gently and warmly on my back, feeling at ease with the world around. Sadly, a small portion of my ride is spent reflecting what would happen if I were to get a flat, how long would it take me to fix and how that would extend my lunch time ride into an ill-planned, two-hour plus event. The extra time would be spent sitting by my bike in contemplation of how this happened, what a bugger it was and if it were the back wheel an all-together different set of emotions would wash over me. I don’t know why I feel like extracting myself for a lunch time ride feels like such an indulgence and time away accelerates exponentially simply by riding away. But for me it does.
But then I curve gently towards home and the sky and mountains open up towards a horizon streaked with clouds. And I pause for a moment, thankful that I ignored the responsible calls to stay in to answer one more email or the possibility of flats and mechanicals. Maybe it takes riding away to see that.