So grateful to ride outside

It’s Saturday, the only day of the week during this pandemic that seems to evoke a sense of familiarity, like we wake up and remember that this seventh daily interval in particular is a time of relaxation and rejuvenation. The forecast is for spring thunderstorms rolling through the evening, but there is a hole in the weather radar. Cyclists know when to make a break for it. I quickly make a pile of Bob’s Red Mill gluten free waffles and wash them down with the bottom half of my dark Moka coffee. Spring is teasing us with a medley of weather, so I hark back to my Seattle days and pull on my trusty shortsleeve Castelli Gabba jersey. The light blue fabric is heavier than a normal jersey, designed to be water and wind resistant, but not baggy and floppy like a typical rain jacket. It is durable against the elements and has saved me on many a cold, drenching ride. I call it my scuba suit. Writing assignments are calling my name so this won’t be a long ride. To make up for the short effort I fill my Revelate saddle bag with some extra gear for heavier pedaling resistance and head off towards the Panhandle Trail.

There was something in the air today, some kind of vibe emanating from the flowering trees and people on their doorsteps. Maybe it’s hope. We’ve made it through the second week of mandatory social distancing and sheltering in place from the Coronavirus. Maybe we’ve developed a routine for this new normal. Maybe we’ve dialed-in the settings on our computers for Zoom (or kicked the rest of the household off) and have enjoyed some sessions with friends and family that we haven’t seen in weeks. Maybe we watch the evening news that reports continued rising statistics of the virus’ spread and death toll, but we know that our city and county in southwestern Pennsylvania are - so far - faring well because we trust our leaders. We have that gritty Pittsburgh attitude to “smash the curve” while at the same time being friendly enough to talk to strangers at Giant Eagle about how they are faring. Because in Pittsburgh, we’re all in this together and we’ll make it through.

Whatever the origins of the feeling, I became overwhelmed with the sense of gratitude this morning that I could just pedal away into the sanctity of nature. Coasting down a carless, treelined road, I thought about how there is no house detention, no armed police in the streets checking IDs asking why we are outside. There are no military vehicles filled with bodies to transport to the morgue. Our health care professionals and centers are not exhausted to tears or dying of COVID-19 because of their oath to heal. But we know the tsunami is out there. So far our city is doing ok, and I am grateful for the freedom and health I’ve been granted today.

Despite the rainy forecast and cloudy skies, I saw more families along the trail than ever before. The need to escape their houses for some much needed fresh air brought them to an outdoor educational room without walls, where children are encouraged to discover, play, and explore and hopefully tire themselves out with mud under their fingernails. There were toddlers wobbling in the grass and throwing sticks into the fast moving stream. Fathers and mothers guided them on woodland trails. Another father used a cliff side pond for a class on biology, pointing at the underwater grasses and tadpoles that would soon emerge. They were moved outside….OUTSIDE….by necessity and it was like they were discovering this beautiful, natural world…this gift…together for the first time.

The past few days in our neighborhood I have noticed an uptick in adults and kids riding bikes. Last night walking Louie in the warm spring evening, there was a man in the front yard with his bike turned upside down, cleaning it while his wife talked behind him on their front steps. Kids have been riding with their families, leaning how to navigate the quiet streets. On the way back from today’s ride near my house, I saw a mom with two young daughters on bikes learning how to balance and steer these awkward, two-wheeled vehicles. The girls were dressed in bright flowery tights and pink rain jackets. My heart leapt seeing them together smiling and working hard to pedal in a straight line. I crested a steep hill to where they had stopped and I yelled out a HELLO and smiled. I hope that they remember the joy of this play time outside together, when their days were not reduced to schedules and hurried meals, and their neighborhoods were not clogged by cars rushing to their next appointment. I hope that after this pandemic that brought the world to a halt, they remember this childhood in the spring of 2020 and it continues to etch meaning long into their life.