"You know, when you're kind of tired. . . ."

Sunday morning Anna insisted on our weekly morning ride, which is what I needed to get myself off my proverbial butt and onto my cycling saddle. Too easy to find excuses not to go, but she would have none of it. Besides, as Mei pointed out -- accurately -- these are the sort of experiences that both Anna and I will recall with pleasure.

We stopped first at her friend's house, to care for a gerbil while said friend was on vacation. while she was inside I sat on the front porch, rocking on a chair; the old phrase, "rocking chair's got me" came to mind, as I listened to the breeze through the branches and the chittering of birds, thinking how nice it would be to have a cup of coffee and a newspaper, and no further plans than that. After all, I told myself, there's no inherent virtue in getting hot and tired on a bicycle; didn't Buddha spend years doing nothing more than sitting? I don't think he found enlightenment through saddle sores and long climbs.

But Anna came out and brought me back to the present. We went on down to Middleton, through old downtown and out along Highway 12 for a bit; it was Anna's first taste of highway riding and, even though it was still mid-morning, and fairly cool at that, and the road was four-lanes with a pretty wide shoulder, the cars whizzing past came a bit too close for her. Also, after the shaded streets of town, the sun reflecting off the flat asphalt was not exactly soothing. But some things are necessary to build character, I suppose, maybe a few steps toward enlightenment.

After a couple miles of this we turned off the highway -- a left turn which had its own share of drama for the uninitiated -- and went up Pleasant View Road. Sort of pleasant for a bit, then we had a long winding uphill past an old quarry, past a tiny little cemetery (three graves, but well-maintained) and up toward the old First German Lutheran Church (pictured; a tranquil bit of the 19th century more and more surrounded and hidden by the encroaching 20th and 21st century developments).

I'd thought the climb was further west, so this was a bit of a disappointment to me. I couldn't quite get us all the way up the hill, despite the lowest gears. So close, and she was working so hard, but I was beginning to get wobbly and felt a sense of parental responsibility; I like to think on Rocinante I'd've made it, I know that I have before). Anyway, we walked the last few feet to the top, paused, and partook of refreshments. That's when Anna said, "You know, when you're kind of tired, you feel really alive." Has a sort of Watsonian ring to it, that sense of wringing pleasure from discomfort. I have to admit it made sense, too -- as I've said before, to me the most seductive part of riding -- when I get out there -- is that it becomes its own self-contained universe. So when we were paused there, admiring the view (and it is pleasant on Pleasant View Road, at least in spots) the sensation was that of being one with that universe, alive in the sense of being here in the now.

A few moments later and we were on our way, down a long downhill, and up again -- made it this time -- across the 4-lanes of Old Sauk Road, and over to Mineral Point Road, and back toward Madison. There we got caught in a long line of cars, I think heading home from the Blackhawk Christian mega-church further south on Mineral Point (definitely neither tranquil nor 19th century). The road was two lanes wide,with a narrow shoulder/bike path, so we cruised along past the crawling cars, sometimes fairly closely; I was fine but Anna, again, was a bit nervous. The only time it bothered me was when we approached the Belt Line on ramp, right after the road became 4 lanes, and divided. We were along the edge of the right lane, with the BeltLine access ramp beginning on our own right. I didn't mind the cars creeping past, but this large SUV came past towing a pontoon boat; the boat was as wide as the lane, and one pontoon -- ominously pointed like a torpedo -- came awfully close alongside, threatening to harpoon us. But it went by and we were back into town, on a wide safe bike lane and uneventfully home. Another chapter, or at least another paragraph.