Freebird

In front of Montmorency Falls, the thick ice covering the river water has cracked to form huge tectonic-like slabs. The sun is pale, the sky partially overcast. My Tires the sand and winter debris as I face the cruel east wind with a slightly silly smile. The smile of simple happiness rediscovered. 

The outside temperature rises painfully above freezing, and I cover the miles, rediscovering my bearings. The abandoned Victorian house at the top of the hill that plunges down towards Petit-Pré. The farm with red roofs, llamas, and large shaggy cattle now perched on a mound of earth. The vegetable cellars on Avenue Royale. The Corail tanning salon and the basilica. 

I know the scenery by heart, so returning here feels like coming home. It's that feeling of coming back to your roots, to a familiar place where you feel completely at ease. The sensations in my legs are closely linked to my state of mind. Winter training has left me in great shape, but I'm only taking half advantage of it, as this Ride mainly Ride recharging Ride . I take in the landscape and breathe in the fresh air. With my legs feeling so good, despite the wind, I make good progress without too much effort and savor every second.

As the snow melts on the asphalt, I reconnect with the blissful solitude that I miss so much in winter. The sun breaks through the clouds and the mercury rises. At Cape Tourmente, a group of horse riders passes me, Palm Bay in hand. We smile at each other. The weather brings us closer together despite the unbridgeable gap between our spring activities. Seagulls screech over the bare plain as I turn at the end of the cape and head back.

I take the road overlooking Sainte-Anne-de-Beaupré. In the distance, Île d'Orléans emerges from the metallic blue river, dotted with micro-ice floes. It looks like a cake. Its surface is unevenly snow-covered, as if covered with vanilla icing spread by a clumsy child. To my right, the cape continues to rise toward the grounds of the Seminary. I pass the road that leads to Sept Crans and cross paths with a car whose stereo is blasting rock music that is initially inaudible. Then I recognize Freebird by Lynyrd Skynyrd. 

The words resonate like an echo of my state of mind. I feel free too. Far away from everything, and happy to return home after savoring these moments of lightheartedness that my sport brings me. I rediscover this feeling that I miss all winter long. It's a part of me that thaws at the same time as the ground.

We all seek those spaces of freedom that make us happy. Mine is on my bike. It is in motion. It is made up of scenery and sensations. Deep in the woods or on the road, thoughts surface, light, then leave me, then return, my breath hot, pain in my thighs, the wind, the burning in my bronchial tubes and lungs, streams, waterfalls, rivers, bridges, the circular rhythm of my knees, the sun on my skin, deer, the crowing of roosters, the pressure of the handlebars in the palms of my hands. 

I am the free bird of song. So many places to see. So much space in a life away from the contingencies of everyday life to reclaim. I have regained the freedom that winter stole from me. I savor every moment, knowing full well that the cycle of seasons will take it back.