Night Riding

One late summer evening, I had the opportunity to take a night ride on my bicycle. Headed home from yoga, with my mat slug across my back, I decided to take the long way. The air was relatively dry for a late-August Minnesota night. The sun had set 15 minutes prior and the street lights were on.

There is something special about a night ride. When I walk, I usually have my AirPods in, listening to a book or podcast, and I am playing Pokémon Go. Yes, I am a 40-year-old-grown-ass-woman who plays Pokémon. Go team Mystic! Since I am on my bike, my AirPods are out and my phone is secured in my bag. Riding gets my full attention.

The songs of crickets and cicadas become my soundtrack. The lights from the cars and street lamps cast ever-changing shapes on the pavement around me. I look down between my pumping legs and see that obnoxious light spin in and out of my vision on my back tire, each time a different hue of the rainbow.

I see pockets of the world in the darkness. The shape of a tree against the darkening sky. The dimly lit front stoop of a home. The flashing bubble-gums of the county mounty who caught himself a speeder along Oakland. I let this different world surround me, embrace me. There is a stillness that comes with night riding and I open to it. I feel the cool pockets of air on my skin. I enjoy the intimacy and privacy that comes with darkness.

My eyes catch the first “star” in the sky as I turn towards home. Jupiter is bright and hovers above, guiding me back to the land of lamps and light.