|Somewhere down some path|
A sequence of three unkind thoughts warped through my mind of which I was not proud, or glad, or comfortable. Two minutes before, I was just noticing that my pretty new shoes were teaching me a light, easy pedal stroke by reminding me with an ever so slight rubbing on my ankles that I might spin easier with a steadier and more efficient, perhaps easier, foot angle. The exact position may not be easy to describe, but it felt easy, and light to ride like that, and I felt in that moment that this was a path of peace and lightness that had some kind of essential connection with one of the better parts of riding my bike. Then, an unnecessary nasty remark from a stranger, and a string of three unkind notions bouncing around my head in reaction.
|Here's my pretty new shoe|
|A simple machine, reclining on the sun-turned faces of the flowers|
|This exact path along this exact canal (would be that dream which won't stay whole)|
With this mind and heart I ride on, though: that the pure absence of pain of any sort is equivalent to the greatest pleasure, like a vast otherwise empty field of spring flowers bending their faces to the sun and being capable of upholding any amenable physics-enhanced pedaling form you might care to try for miles and miles down this exact path down this exact canal.