The magic bench

Season Miles: 2,217

Whitnall Crit, 10 laps+Up 'Barn Hill', 37 miles
Sun to partly cloudy, 63 degrees, WINDY, gusting to 25

This morning I was on the road early for me, at about 10:30 and already heading south once again. I didn't know for sure where I was headed but I knew one thing for sure. It was windy.

Because of the wind I decided to turn into Whitnall Park figuring that doing some laps in there would at least give me a break from the wind because I'd basically be going in circles on that course. It worked. I felt pretty good doing ten laps in the park.

For two of those laps I watched two large deer munching on some low-hanging tree branches. And despite my being only feet away from them neither one bothered to move at all, instead just giving me a glance.

But on the second lap with them there a man in a pickup had spied the deer and pulled over across the road to watch. It was funny to see the deer sort of peek out at the guy from behind the tree to check him out. It was as if they were saying, "Move on buddy...nothing to see here. Can't you see we're trying to eat here?"


As I whirled around the course lap after lap I saw a man fast asleep in his car. Each lap I would ride past him his head was bobbing down in a different position as he snoozed away.


Lap after lap I would shift in the exact same spot at the top of a hill where another guy had his sports car parked as he soaked up some sunshine from his lawn chair.


At the end of 10 laps I decided that on the way out of the park I would take a climb up good old "Barn Hill". With the wind still whipping it up I made my way steadily up the climb and rode over to a couple of benches out in front of the Botanical Gardens gift shop.


Although the stop for a little rest and a granola bar was only about five minutes, it was a magical one.


Legs stretched out in front of me, the warmth of the autumn sun burned onto my cheeks. It felt good. The only sounds were of the crickets and the wild grasses blowing in the wind, their fuzzy tails dancing against the bright green and neatly-kept grass in the background.


The reddish-pink roses partnered with the grasses made for a scene  worthy of Monet himself pulling out his paints and brushes right then and there.


Bright white clouds moved swiftly across the blue sky above as I noticed a jet gaining altitude not far away. I wondered where those people were going and almost felt sorry for them. Certainly they could not be going anywhere more perfect than it is right here on the magical bench.


As I loaded my water bottle back into its waiting cage and rolled away I thought about the magical bench stay, magical because for those five minutes or so my world was perfect. No worries. No deadlines. No nothing except the beauty of the day and the location. I could have died right then and there and I guess that would have been OK with me.


On the way back I thought about how lucky I am to be able not only to do this, but to appreciate the special moments in life.


I thought about a man getting a hip replacement today, and how much I myself had to overcome to get to where I am now ten years after my surgery. This husband of a co-worker of my wife's had called me earlier, worried about his operation and looking for some comfort from someone who has been there. I was glad to give it. 


Over the years I have answered mail from readers from New Mexico to Canada asking for my advice about not only total hip replacement, but the ability to ride afterward. I always take the time to share my story with them.


With about six miles left in the ride those bright white clouds that had me in a trance at the magical bench now had ugly black bottoms, making the wind now seem more like the first coughs from Old Man Winter. What started and felt like a summer day suddenly had a chilly bite to it, looking and feeling more like November. I yearned to feel the warmth of my time at the magic bench again. But that's the thing about those magical moments; you can never go back. So enjoy them when they roll around.