The Bike Ride

I hadn't ridden a bike in fifteen years. My friend talked me into renting one for a trail ride along the river, and I was sure I'd embarrass myself.

The first mile was wobbly. I almost hit a goose, who was not impressed. But somewhere around mile three, something clicked. My body remembered. The wind was in my face, the river was sparkling, and I started laughing out loud for no reason at all.

We rode twelve miles that day. We stopped for ice cream at a little stand by the bridge and sat on the grass watching kids skip stones. My legs hurt for three days.

I bought a used bike the following week. Now I ride every Sunday morning. Some weeks it's five miles, some weeks it's twenty. It's the best part of my week.

Sometimes joy is just waiting for you to say yes to something you used to love.