skunks, singlespeeds, and sex

Why do I night ride? Why do I singlespeed?

Sunset to stars. Feeling alive. Help, I can't see. Does it really matter? Trust your body and the bike. What about the surprises? The roots in the trail. I'm going too fast. Slow down. You don't have insurance. This could hurt. How is this working? How am I not crashing? Alive. I can't see the trail. Pedal harder. You can't see the top of the hill so just keep peddling.

Commotion ahead. There is a skunk in the trail. I hope Socrates doesn' t get sprayed. I hope he doesn't get in a fight with a wild animal. He made it. But will I? I hear the skunk but I can no longer see it. Ride faster.

My light shines on my dog, Socrates, and I can see my happiness reflected back at me through him. His tongue is hanging below his collar and his smile is so wide that I can see each and every tooth in his mouth.

I'm lost. I've never been on this section of trail before. I don't know how much time is left on the borrowed light. My own crappy NiteRider light dimmed out within the first 45 minutes. I'm not afraid. I will walk out in the dark if I need to. I feel the forest differently without my heart pounding in my ears. My light shines on a spider web taller than me. I feel like an animal other than Socrates is watching me from the darkness.

Found. Embraced. Why am I not excited to be found? I am excited to be riding again. I was starting to get cold.

It is pretty impressive what we will do to feel alive.
Sex should be like riding a singlespeed at night. Simple. Hard. You may not know where you are going but you know what you want it to feel like.

Life is full of contractions.