August 06, 2009Forrest Gumping It

Remember that part in Forrest Gump when he just starts running and doesn’t stop? I sort of did that the other day. After a delicious meal at my parents’ place, I left on my bike with the intention of going home, a paltry 9km away. Along the way, I realized I had an urge to go further. And with apologies to Oscar Wilde, I can resist everything except an urge to go further. And further I went.

I decided to head up North to ride along the banks of the Rivière-des-Prairies, which separates the Island of Montreal from the Island of Jesus, commonly known as Laval. I took the bike path that heads West and just pedaled. The more the ride progressed, the more I told myself I should head back. But louder still, I told myself: “Nah.” So further I went.

It was a perfect evening for a bike ride. Not too warm, not too cool, the only wind coming from my own movement. The sky was clear so rain was not an issue. Not only that, the midnight blue overhead reflected onto the river, with street lamps and house lights serving as the stars. It was a sleepy Sunday evening in the suburbs; I had the road to myself. From time to time, I worried that whatever distance I covered, I would have to repeat upon my return. But the sweet circular rhythm of my legs working in tandem with my fixed gear was a siren call for more. And further I went.

I had already been along this way, but never so far. The city had changed from urban to suburban to country. I could smell the country freshness! My perfect escape from the city was interrupted by a new development; the kind with lots of houses and few architects. That was my cue. I headed back to my place.

My return home was greeted by the pleasurable dull pain of exhaustion. I had ridden 72km on a whim, not bad. After a well deserved shower, I sank into my bed with a smile.

Juan Altitude