The landscape has changed since I first got on the bike this spring.
Spring training included a 32 mile benefit bike ride in Asheville in mid-May. Here we are after the ride:
“Training” can include hiking with the kids, too. Above the Blue Ridge Parkway in early June:
Turkeybeard and Mountain Laurel:
And finally, a poem from a few years back about running in the Moses Cone Memorial Park. As much as I am, and will probably always be, a slow and labored runner, I was reminded again this morning, when I passed within feet of a group of shiny black cows lying in a grove of rhododendron, that I almost always see something beautiful and interesting when I’m running. And I almost always feel some glimmer of insight or inspiration that I might not have experienced were it not for the run.
What Crosses My Path
A pileated woodpecker, straight arrowed
tree to tree, ancient hatchet head. Two deer,
in my near-sightedness, I momentarily mistake
for silent bounding golden retrievers.
Noble air of national park and the sanctity
of old land. Ghosts of gentry
picnicking in the overgrown orchard.
My own heart thumping before me.
My inexorable thoughts.
Firepinks, scarlet stars, joined by spiderwort
spike and mountain laurel, convened
to tell me again
of what has come and gone.
And what will remain.