Remembering to Live Again

I woke up listening to the early morning loons on the lake by our home. Our dog pretended to sleep at the foot of the bed while I got dressed, but as soon as I clicked the handle on the door he came running out, ready for our early morning walk in the woods.

We live in the Northwoods now, not far from the Canadian border and surrounded by one of the most pristine wilderness areas still in existence. Our dog drags his tongue out and he smiles in readiness as I tell him to wait, and lace up my boots. We both bolt out the door. 

The crispness of the day is not lost on me, and soon we are walking up the national forest (cross-country ski) trail just a few hundred yards from our front door. Bald eagles soar above the dog and me, and the lake is still and reflective of the budding poplars and pines in every direction. Loons swoon their morning song and song birds of every kind chirp and trill, as our part of this forest is in the middle of a primary songbird migratory path.

So I decide on the walk back that this would be an excellent 'first day' to ride. 

The weather this winter and spring has been rough, even by Minnesota standards. We spent a good month in January hovering around -40℉ lows, and -20℉ highs. And even though spring is here, and (at least on the calendar) it has been 'Spring' for a while, last week we woke up to 3 inches of snow (the northern Minnesota town of Duluth about 2 hours south of us got 10 inches).

Really, though, any of several days in the past couple weeks would have been good 'first days' to ride, but neither my heart nor my head would have been fully in it, so I kept the bikes parked and waited until both would be fully engaged. Not just for safety (though partly for that), but also to not take anything away from the ride ... to be able to fully enjoy the the exhilaration and the experience.

The thing is... I've forgotten somewhere in the past year, with the continuous stress of relocating and rearranging and moving our lives up here, and accommodating the very demanding needs of my mother, and planning and as yet being unable to go see my father again. And working like crazy, and... the physical toll all of this took on my health and general feeling of wellbeing... well, all that was a bit too much. 

I feel like I'm just now waking up from a dream, remembering who I am again, so that I can keep being that person.

I feel like I'm remember how to live again.

The bike is definitely helping. :-)