Before the heat sets in

The air was thick this morning just after dawn. It was cool, but you knew that wasn't going to last long, not by the way the humidity was hanging in the air.

Forecasts called for the heat to come in, and that's why I dragged myself out of bed at 5:15 a.m. I wanted to get ride in, beat the heat and get to work, all before sun started scorching.

I took Highway 52 east out of town, right into the sun. Water hung on the tall glass and shimmered in the light, and mist rose out of the patches of trees that lined the road here and there as I climbed the long hill. The suns rays angled through them, as if this were a movie and Jesus was being born in those woods. I rode through little bubbles of cool air, and the moisture started clinging to the hair on my arms and dripping off my helmet.

It was one of those mornings, you know, when you're glad to be alive. As I woke up on the bike, my legs started spinning and my breath evened out and my heart began humming inside my chest. What was that I felt? Oh, yeah, I felt strong. It's been so long since I've had that feeling.

The pockets of mist turned into out and out fog as I rode further out into the country, gliding along at at even 20 to 22 mph. Suddenly the fog surrounded me, and all I could only see about 100 yards in any direction. It was a nifty, disconcerting and scary feeling all at once.

It felt as if I were stationary, and the world was spinning beneath me. Houses and barns came at me from the mist, like ships at sea. I got this crazy notion of belonging in this particular place and time. At the same time I hoped that I wouldn't get hit by a Ford Econoline van, driven by some electrician on the way to work.

I was a little lost, too. I know these roads, but when you're in a fog, there's no sense of perspective, and the landmarks I use to measure where I am were lost in all that gray.

It was one of the best rides I've had in a long, long time.