Kind Fenix

A cyclist for a day From a motorway overpass, I can see how an unexpected congestion sends swarms of hurrying traffic onto the back road I need to take. Not ideal , I frown. But it’s only a handful of kilometers. I imagine that I would get through the winding, gently sloped stretch briskly and with ease. Turns out, my ego was writing checks my body can’t cash. The inclines are longer and they feel steeper than they looked from afar. Burning lungs and aching thighs wake me up from all my ambitious dreaming. Briskly enough and with ease, indeed. Drivers have to slow down behind me. I feel bad about being a rolling obstacle for others. I try to stick to the road shoulder but there’s not much of it left here. My self-sabotaging mind quickly fills with guilt and tells me that I’m in everyone’s way and that they curse at me. This doesn’t feel like the fun bicycle ride I pictured. Drama queen, I know. But then a voice comes out. Dude, you belong here just like everybody else! You can’t change...