To the end of the road

To this moment – as I sit before my computer approaching the conclusion of the day after having enjoyed my evening meal of bow tie pasta and sautéed raw veggies with fresh Parmigiano Reggiano cheese – I cannot account for how I endured today’s unplanned and protracted 31.19 km bicycle ride almost the full length of the Gulf of Mexico Drive along the spine of Longboat Key to the bridge leading to Bradenton Beach and back. Normally the comfortable limit of my daily cycle is the 16 km to Bayfront Park and back. Even today’s lengthy adventure included the ritual stop at the Park on the bench overlooking Sarasota Bay. Nor to my continuing surprise did I linger there longer than usual in spite of the duplication of the length of my ride.

My seemingly buoyant and perpetual survival of this exercise is more astounding perhaps when noting that I had been awake throughout most of the night – though I confess to having animated myself by working on another piece about what I consider the predominant theme propelling self-discovery. When I finally withdrew from my lair after several hours of peaceful sleep early this morning I was unpredictably energetic to address my bowl of Sumo citrus, sliced Cosmic Crisp apple and fresh squeezed lemon juice before undertaking my constitutional bicycle ride. I can only surmise that the agreeable weather (admittedly cooler than characteristic) and the brilliant morning sunshine contributed to what was rapidly and inexplicably transforming from a common bicycle ride to an outing ornamented by an irrefutable joie de vivre.

Lubricated by whatever it is that promoted this unusual gusto I all but sailed along the coast. Certainly the slender bodies of the racing cyclists clad in their cosmetic costumes regularly surpassed my leisurely expedition. I had at least the dignity of tinkling my bicycle bell when approaching octogenarians consuming the entire breadth of the sidewalk upon their tricycles. Seldom did they hear my bell until after I had repeated the aria several times and the old people determined the sound wasn’t coming from either their ear pods or their Bluetooth iPhones. No matter, my project wasn’t governed by performance of any measure. Just being along the pathway at that elongated Block was for me sufficient pacification of almost any contradiction.