It’s one of those days where you come home and you see that your bike has been fixed. You didn’t ask for it to be; in fact when you had the time and the money you were going to sit down and do it yourself. But someone loved you that much that he did it for you, and waited for you to get home and be surprised. You didn’t show your surprise all that much, didn’t even say thank-you, which you’ll feel guilt for later.
What you did do is change your clothes and come back downstairs and took your bike down the old dirt road. It’s been months since you last rode, and your legs already feel a little tired and the dry dirt causes extra friction. But still you’re going, and your mind is travelling at the same speed and then the wind picks up–going against you of course.
And then you’re peddling harder and harder and it feels like you’re going nowhere, the wind has left you suspended. And you wonder, “Am I so weak that even a little bit of wind can keep me down?” But you keep peddling because you’re not ready to turn back, and if you stop, the wind will have taken you. And then you wonder some more, “If I can’t even beat the wind, what makes me think I can fight anything else? Succeed at anything else?” But still you peddle on, because you know the breeze will cut down eventually.
And when it does, you’ll feel as if all of the air has been stolen. You’ll want the breeze back. For all your fighting, you’ll miss it when it’s gone. It wasn’t the norm, but it wasn’t abnormal. It’s just how things are.