Every once in awhile the bicycle gods smile down upon you.

You don’t get these bicycle days very often.

A friend of mine loves to point out that there is no such thing as a bad day on a bicycle. After every ride, he makes sure to say so.

He’s not wrong.

But all things being equal — some things are more equal than others.

In other words, some rides are just better.

This ride was one of the best.

Somehow I was riding solo.

A text thread went out early in the morning to our group of four. Did anyone want to mountain bike at Carvins Cove today?

Two of us said yes.

Click here for a map of Carvins Cove.

We would wait until noon when temperatures would rise through the ’50s to near 60. Rare for December.

Alas, my buddy Gary had to bail for understandable family commitments. (It was the day after Christmas after all.) So I set off on my own.

My bicycle the Trigger by a downed tree.
There were a few trees across the trail. No worries.

On the trail

The sun was out and the weatherman was right. The temperature was perfect.

On top of that, the air was still. I could feel the warmth of the sun on the side of my face. My long-sleeved jersey matched the conditions.

Therefore, I was neither hot nor cold.

The planets were aligning.

Though I enjoy riding with others, it was kind of nice to pedal at my own pace. A year’s worth of health issues were behind me, and though I was feeling fine, my legs still didn’t have the strength I would describe as normal.

So, I just settled into a comfortable cadence and took in the day.

Conditions matched the weather.

The trail was dry for a change, save for the odd muddy pothole. The bike rolled along effortlessly as I rode what locals call the “lowers” at the Cove. This is cove-speak for easy trails, compared to those that line the park’s mountains.

I cruised along a jeep road, veered off through the legendary Enchanted Forest and eventually arrived at School House — A nice piece of singletrack.

By this point, I was totally in it. Totally in the ride. Pushing the pace through the trees as fast as I dared. I swooped through a few turns and felt a long-dormant thrill.

The bike went easily up a few short climbs with the rear suspension locked out.

It was satisfying.

Another bicycle rider.
Two of the few other riders, I saw on the trail this day.

The woods were quiet.

The parking lot had been well populated with cars, but I had seen only a handful of other riders.

Nothing to break me out of my mountain bike zen state.

Endorphins began to kick in and I felt even better. It was like there was no chain. No resistance.

I splashed through two small creeks.

What is it about riding through water? It’s not that difficult, yet there is a sense of accomplishment.

Hey, I just did that.

On my bicycle.

Yay me.

Pine needles created a quiet carpet for this bicycle ride.
Pine needles created a quiet carpet for this bike ride.

A carpet of pine needles

Toward the end, the trail enters a small stand of pine trees. The ground is littered with pine needles.

That carpet makes everything quiet.

And smooth.

I tried to capture it with a picture.

But it doesn’t do it justice.

So, I popped back out on the jeep trail, then dove back into the Enchanted Forest.

More pine needles. Taller trees. Truly enchanted.

The winter woods were perfect for mountain biking. Here my bicycle rests against a tree.
Being alone in the woods turned out to be a good thing.

Bicycle Options.

Yet, between here and the car I still had options. There were more trails I could ride. I wanted the day to last forever, but I had to make a decision.

When I was a skier there was this mantra. It said, don’t feel as if you need to ski until the lifts close. How many people tried to extend their time on the slopes by making one last run, only to wipe out and twist a knee or bruise something in a fall?

It’s hard to know when to stop.

It’s hard to stop when you’re having so much fun.

The other trails were not difficult. I’d ridden them dozens of times. On certain rides, I’d crushed them — dropping my companions, bouncing over rock gardens, and sprinting up narrow slopes.

But it had been a long time.

The Ever-present Bicycle Gamble.

Was it right to extend the ride, or should I quit while I was ahead?

And I was way ahead.

I rode back to the car.

I’ve spent a lot of time this year learning to live in the moment.

You know, not worrying about the future or fretting about the past.

It’s not easy.

Yet, when you get it right, you understand why so many people are working toward this space. It works. With colleagues. With grandkids. On the bike.

It occurred to me as I loaded up the bicycle that I had been in the moment for most of this ride. I had been in the moment for almost two hours.

Could that be what cycling is really all about?

A note from John.

I mentioned my health above. It’s because I have been dealing with sarcoidosis, which is a rare disease that can affect just about any organ in the body. As a result, it has been hard to ride at times, but it’s also given me an opportunity to help educate people about sarc. Click here for my thread on Cycling with Sarcoidosis.