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Panola Mountain Bike Trail |
Not me. We mostly save our pennies to pay the septic tank man or buy a new eight year old car when our even older car gives up the ghost.
Today, after the scramble of getting kids to school, lunch boxes and assignments prepared; I drive to court and hear other people's problems. When the hearings are over, and I've hung up my robe, I load up Spooky and head to the parking lot of the Monastery of the Holy Spirit. And there, with the sun shining and my GPS beeping to record the miles, I pedal away all other concerns.
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My Beloved Spooky |
In those hours riding the bike trails, my only concerns are making the turns, attacking the hills, avoiding a flat tire, and staying hydrated as I zoom past rivers, trees, playgrounds, and startled deer.
Hawks swoop overhead. Life is suddenly real-- tangible and simple. Cold wind. Shadow of trees. Bright sunlight and a rolling river. Burning legs and gasping lungs. How fast was the last mile? Can I go faster?
Unlike many who view exercise as a means to an end, cycling is my prescription for fatigue and world weariness. Nature heals me. I arrive home smiling and content. All I needed was 22 miles of sunshine.