When I studied abroad in the Netherlands in my sophomore year of college, I rented a bike for the semester. I called it my Nimbus and would take it for rides around the small town of Well where I lived. The air was cool most days and in my memory, I was alone more often than not when I took it for a short spin.
Here’s an exert from my travel blog from nine years ago:
“I went on one of those beautiful, self-centering bike rides this afternoon around the town of Well and a bit in the county. As you can see from the picture, Well is very green. On the route there were also horses, farm fields, brown and red brick houses, and more bikes … it’s kind of the go-to transportation in The Netherlands. As our guide put in on my first day: “there are walkers, then cars, then God, then way up here, are bikers” – apparently they have the right away everywhere, or at least act like it. ”
I’m reminded of that feeling, the fresh smell of the autumn breeze with people and traffic few and far in between, as I return from my own short bike ride tonight.
I ran this morning, but after a relaxing (and lazy afternoon) of reading, hot tubbing, and television my body was antsy again. I’m not to the mental level of intensity that I want to go for a second run of the day, but I thought what I really needed was some fresh air. Afraid that walking might just make me feel like I should be running (it’s not logical, but the thought is there), I unlocked my bike for the first time in a week.
It was a short ride, just over twenty minutes, around the point of the residential peninsula and to the beach and back again. I listened to the latest Brené Brown podcast episode and then switched over to my audiobook (Running to the Edge by Matthew Futterman).
Peace is in small moments. In the daily meditation. In the quiet exertion of peddling up a small incline. In knowing that the world is here — big and full and ready to get you out of your own head whenever you need it.
With Love,
Natalie