The Very Day Seemed to Dance Within Her

In February, I went on a small book purchasing spree (well, a small spree, the books are normal-sized), abandoning my list, barely even looking at the books, relying principally on recommendations of the staff at my local bookstore (Moon Palace) and at Powell's online.

The book I am reading now, from that little binge, is set at the beginning of WWI and the main character is a single woman, a schoolteacher and aspiring writer, who has a bicycle.

Sitting next to my pliable dog, I have re-read the opening pages of Chapter 7 a few times because her bike ride resonates with me - - reaching a state of seemingly effortless momentum, self-made breezes, tall grasses in weedy ditches, time to one's self, losing track of time.

Although my circumstances are not like that of our protagonist Beatrice Nash - - who is lucky as a woman to find a professional job, yet the lawyers administering her father's small estate think it impossible that a woman could manage her own finances - - I understand the line, "The very day seemed to dance within her."

There are some days on the bike that aren't as lovely, to be sure, but I think this is what made me switch from mostly just doing the MS150 ride, a few commutes, and a couple of rides on paved paths seven and eight years ago to riding my bike thousands (yes, thousands) of miles each year.

I think doing my first, weeklong MS TRAM ride five years ago was the turning point, perhaps even it was the morning when I rode in the thick, quiet fog on the newly paved road, not sure and not caring whether I was on the route, mesmerized by the countless spiderwebs in the trees on the side of the road, full of glistening dew.

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