I am sometimes accustomed to bouts of nostalgia when atop the bicycle, even in the basement on the rollers as I was this snowy evening, unable or unwilling to stop my mind from drifting back to many youthful moments of joy and abandon.  The instant that my foot is firmly on a pedal, and the taught chain engages perfectly with a sprocket, muscles tense, circles making circles and the spokes set to hum, I am a boy again, caught in the grip of the sport in a way that has woven me into the fabric of not just cycling but its history and, if I am fortunate- if we all are fortunate- its future.

A confluence of events has brought me a step closer to the last ride I’ll ever do today.  Of course, this could be said for us all after every ride.  It was a difficult week with the weather forcing most of us indoors.  I had a work  commitment that didn’t allow for any quality time on the bike recently.  So I approached today’s ride with some disdain, albeit philosophical.