I got wind of this bike touring company for women and requested a catalog, which arrived yesterday. Reading it cover to cover in one sitting, I sat slack-jawed in awe with how beautiful our country and world is, especially from the seat of a saddle. I had never been interested in bike touring before, but now, for one brief moment, I imagined riding cross-country with this group whose average tour participant age is 61, an age which is more than seven years away for me yet. So much I can accomplish in those seven years. I can be so much stronger and have so much more experience and even be a certified bike mechanic. I could maybe get a job with them leading tours or perhaps telling their stories. I could see the world. Croatia! They have a trip to Croatia! And the volcanoes of Costa Rica! And Spain’s Camino de Santiago, and Morocco, and France! My eyes kept going back to the trip across Death Valley, a place I have never been right here in the USA, and I thought of God and faith and how I
walked rode through the valley of death metaphorically, and now here I am, alive. Alive.