So I’ve been meaning to write about this for a couple of days, but you know how things get away from us.

Being back on the bike is great. It’s tiring, but it’s great. I did miss it as I always do, but now I’ve more the means to do it and I’ve more the means to get the bike fixed, and I might just take it into a shop and get it done properly. Save myself the hassle.

Anyway, Monday afternoon I left work late, went to the station to get to a station that would take me close to Cooks River, and there was an issue with power supply, so the station I wanted to get to was not accessible. Had to think on my feet, and by that I mean looking at what the next nearest station I could get to would be.

Sydenham.

Okay. So I go to the platform and miss a train, and that happens. It sucks, but it happens. But it did eat a lot of time. I was at work late due to organising an event and that was a whole lot of fun. But then missing the train… it happens, but it ate into time. Anyway.

So I go to Sydenham station and I cycle from there, and it was uphill but I do it. I get it done, and eventually it was downhill and it’s not long before I’m along Cooks River in the dark and cold, and it was dark and cold. But it was easy. It was pleasing, in a sense, and it was dramatic. I was tired and I was starting to really feel the morning’s ride but I kept going. I wanted to get home as quickly as I could because I wanted to get warm and I still had things to do before I went to sleep, and those things weren’t going to wait for me. Well, they were and still are, but I wanted to be productive when I got home, but that didn’t happen but I digress.

So I rode along a river, and I stopped when I saw mist on a field. I took photos and continued on, as one does. I rode along and I followed the cycleway, and I took a wrong turn at some point and left it earlier than I was meant to, but that was fine.

During the ride one of the songs I had on was “The Way Home” from Terranigma‘s soundtrack. I listened to it and what it was getting across, and I too desired for my last dream to be that of a bird, soaring over and through the world I was a part of and watch how it changed as it moved away from me.

And I got home and it was cold, and it was fine, but I got nothing done and that’s okay. I was too tired and it was expected, and overall it was a good ride to do.

The time it took to write five-hundred words: 07:31:33

I was hoping to write something more expressive. That was not to be, apparently. Had I written this soon after the ride, I think I would’ve pulled it off. Oh well.

Written at Dirty Red.