WHAT GOES UP
It happens when I’m least expecting it.
One moment, I’m pedaling along, like I’ve done for decades. Then out of nowhere, I’m back to where it all began. Sometimes it’s a cool fall ride when the crunch of my tires skittering over leaves becomes the sound of her Keds scuffing the asphalt as she ran next to me. Or a whispered “you’ve got this” breaks through a symphony of wind-sucking and blood pumping. On the best days, my pack disappears entirely, replaced by a steadying hand on my back and a final push
