One Hour In


“One hour in” is a single snapshot in a winter commute. At one hour in, there was another 20 minutes to go.

At one hour in, it was a brisk, dry 39 degrees. There was a northwest wind blowing at 10-15 mph and I was headed south. After rolling out in darkness, stars, and a piece of moon, at one hour in, the southeast horizon was glowing like a royal crown. The road was empty. I was alone in, relative to me, still air. Silent, save the humming of tires on pavement and my own rhythmic breathing.

At one hour in, my body was warm. I had established a rhythm, not only in respiration, but in locomotion. Legs spun pedals easily, steady as a metronome. At one hour in, I’d burned about 500 of the 700 calories needed for the route. I reveled in my good fortune.

At one hour in, a goofy grin formed on my face and I took out my camera to take a snapshot of my bike gliding like wind.

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