Noticing the Wind

It’s December and we were able to ride outside this weekend!  We did two short rides, about 20 miles each day.  The warmest part of the day lasts only a few short hours and I am surprised at how low the sun stays in the southern sky.  Of course, it’s always been this way at this time of the year, but I'm noticing it much more this year as we’re trying to get a few rides in before the snow flies.  The slow(er) pace of biking makes me attentive to surprising things, and not just while I'm pedaling.

Yesterday we started out riding straight into the wind.   After the first two miles, I realized I wasn’t enjoying the ride against the wind and was tempted to turn onto a perpendicular road to engage the side-wind, instead of the headwind.  I kept pedaling and the corner passed along with the temptation to take the easy way.  Soon enough, the rhythm found me, and the telephone poles ticked by unoticeably.  I wonder if riding up the Iowa hills against the wind is anything like riding up a mountain.  We eased into some higher gears on the down-hills, but even that seemed slow. 

Slow and steady wins the race; or maybe it just lets you finish the race.  Some days, slow and steady is all that keeps you going, race or no race.  Slow and steady.  Is that what life should be?  Slow and steady?  Whether it should or not, that’s what it is sometimes—deliberate and faithful. 

The return ride was soft, gentle, calm, peaceful, warm (for December), like a hand on my back, urging me up the hills and hanging on for the down-hills.  The wind became a small part of something much, much larger than me; the very hand of God propelling me forward, the breath of God whispering me onward. 

Normally when riding with the wind, it seems there is no wind.  But yesterday I noticed it in both directions.  For once I noticed.  Both directions.  God, equally present.