Fall

Today began very much like yesterday, with me wandering around in my dark apartment, contemplating how to begin my day. I had the strong urge to get back in bed, and the tip tap of light drizzle outside certainly didn't discourage this.

But I was up, and soon I was out the door. I was looking for a break from the trails today, as they require a different sort of focus than open roads. They tend to be narrow, a bit bumpy, and when you get going at a decent clip, a bit curvy at times. I decided to lace together a few routes I've gotten to know.

About 30 min after heading out I'd reached Bethesda, where it started drizzling. Within 20 more minutes it had turned to steady showers, with even some thunder in the background. The shower lasted a good half hour and I was soaked the whole rest of the ride.

While climbing up the first hill on Berryville Rd I became suddenly aware of the new season upon us. Cool air breezing past me, soggy auburn shades beneath my tires, and the scent of burning wood. Fall indeed.

A prominently less graceful moment transpired just as I let out a yelp while descending the other side of this same hill. I tucked into position and gained quite some speed, and before I knew it I was struggling to manage the sharp left hand turn at the bottom of the hill. I went into the grass, barely, and just managed to avert the disaster that would have been sailing into the picket fence lining the road.

Sometimes it seems like these changes happen so fast. I've often written of transitions, of instances where change can be observed to happen seemingly before one's eyes. Hiking up to alpine level and beyond is one example, where ecosystems change proportionally with the elevation. But this is a rarity. Natural transitions, such as those between seasons, are less drastic. The sensation I experienced today was more a product of observation. Something happens, or some sensory experience triggers a questioning of your surroundings. Then you realize that they're different than the last time you paid attention. There is a parallel here to training, in that minute progress is often undetectable until one day you realize you're doing something better than before. Speed seems to come at less cost. Familiar hills seem less daunting.

So, it turns out that even though transitions are generally constant, we often bookmark certain events or experiences as indicative of a transient change. And I'm certain that I'll remember today's ride as the beginning of fall of this year. 51 miles, 2:50.