Movement

Took Burtie out for an early morning spin while the world still slept. We encircled the city in a grand miles-wide loop for a couple hours as the sun creeps into the sky and, eventually, we wind back into our own neighborhood and familiar territory again, just in time for a couple nearby coffeeshops to finally open. Sunday mornings in the cities make for nice riding.

Why does movement feel so good? So essential? When did sitting still become anathema to my being? I feel the urge to sit, but I am compelled to stay in motion. I feel the urge to quiet my mind, and yet the myriad responsibilities and demands that have been laid upon me, and those that I put on myself, all come calling every waking second of the day.

Stillness is what I sorely need and can little afford at the moment. At least that's how it seems.