Five miles in forty three minutes. A mile every eight and a half minutes. Jogging pace. I forgot lip balm, and my lips are cracked. The others are all going the other way. A 737 takes off parallel to me and climbs higher faster than farther. Why ride this direction? Why not turn around?
“Throughout the whole absurd life I’d lived, a dark wind had been rising toward me from somewhere deep in my future, across the years that were still to come, and as it passed, this wind leveled whatever was offered to me at the time, in years no more real than the ones I was living.” Meursault thought about wind from his prison cell. Deprived of sensuous experience, he took notice for the first time of his senses.
Body and mind get reunited turning the pedals. Out here, suffering is a choice.
Strava segment – Marine Dr. MUP – 33rd to I-205