It is a day that opens like any other—but closes with an upending of everything.
Dave starts as he often does, rising early, night still thresholding into the dawn of a mid-March day. There is a sense of growth and renewal, with summer stretching ahead and so many ambitions yet to chase.
He dresses warmly, the layers an armor against the springtime frost. His cleated shoes crunch as he walks the gravel from house to shed, then from shed to driveway, those shoes clicking loudly as he snugs them into clipless pedals. He rolls toward the road, the freewheel relaying a ratcheting sound as he glides through the open gate.
Starlings and blackbirds call out, each day a little louder, in the build up toward the dawn chorus. The sun’s first rays paint the sky a thousand brilliant colors, the light sitting behind the trees, making spectral silhouettes out of them, all tall and dark and jagged and eerie.
Kevin looks across at him and Dave sees a thousand different expressions, one after another, one on top of the other.
Dave drops down the hill at speed. He scans the road for stones and potholes, for the blemishes that could ambush a front wheel and upend a rider. His front light requires charging and the pool of yellow shimmying before him is narrower and fainter than he really needs, so he’s being vigilant.
The road widens and flattens as he passes the forest. He whirrs the pedals around, turning a high cadence to warm himself up and to shake the ache out of tight legs. The detritus of yesterday’s training ride remains in his system: pain and stiffness skulking around his calves and hamstrings, quads and buttocks. But these will melt away as the minutes tick by.
There’s a niggle in his knee that will take a while longer; but this, too, shall pass.
BUY ISSUE 001
