Once I am on the road, wind in my face...I remember what I love. I love that everything feels so close...the sky...the water....I love the rush of adrenalin...and the peace of the backroads. The smells are also vivid. Freshly mown grass, honeysuckle blooming, exhaust fumes from the truck ahead...each triggering something deep within.
You barely hear sounds over the din of the motor. Especially with the RD beside or in front of me. The whine of the motor drowns out anything I might hear.
We did a few of the familiar routes yesterday. River Road, both Richmond and Delta, Marine Drive in White Rock..Colebrook Road. All my training grounds. Even the rain did not deter my enthusiasm at being in my head and on the road. I can't explain exactly what it feels like. I have tried to those whose queries are somewhere between curiosity and condescension. I have never thought an artist need explain their love of colour or texture. Nor a fashionista need not justify the love of fabric.... but if it is anything close to the euphoric feeling of freedom mixed with fear, that keeps me safe....I know I understand the passion of others.
I have always loved passionate people.