When the sun was standing low over the hills I wondered: Maybe I always start so late, because I know there's no way to bail out?
There's no train after a certain hour and asking someone to pick me up in the middle of the night would come with a high embarrassment factor. So there's only one way: through.
With weak legs. And a mind that could be more optimistic, that once was more used to these distances and the night rides.
Now: A sense of fear when darkness crept from the woods. Especially with a look to the hilly profile on my Wahoo. And the monster climb just ahead. I would have laughed at myself a few months back, or years? I don't remember what it feels like to ride up without feeling gravity in an unsettling way. Or maybe I do and that's why it hurts even more.
I look at the trees, shadows to my side. I wonder what time feels like for them.
Do they ever rush their growth? Spring will come inevitably.
They let the seasons unfold and give themselves to the elements.
When I finally reach the top I'm relieved. It's, for once, sooner than expected. Why is it still a surprise, even with all the technical gadgets, a barometric bike computer which measures every meter of elevation. But still - it's always magic to reach that tip of the iceberg. When the green turns grey on the screen. When gravity let's loose what should be free.
And then: the absurdity of a winter ski town, tourism in the wake of the night. I come from the woods out of the darkness like an animal and there they are: hotels, restaurants, lights, shops with ridiculous window decorations. Just moments before there was only silence, stars, a black sky with tiny dots of light. Within a few pedal strokes I'm back at civilization, unsure how to feel about it.
In the descent I think, gosh, I should have taken my winter hat. My face hurts, I can even feel my eyes getting numb, tunnel view and everything else is darkness. A last rest of snow on the sides of the never ending narrow bike path.
When I reach the closed bike tunnel I curse. To make it better someone had the idea to throw glass bottles on the bike path in front of the closed tunnel. I didn't realise it, had both earphones in, to numb the fear of the night and to keep myself entertained on the right side of panic. There's a moment where it can inevitably flip, you gotta be careful to stay calm.
No puncture, please. It's minus 4 and I would certainly struggle to get this fixed in the dark, without my gloves, with the sealant everywhere. But I stop this nightmarish train of thought. Let's keep moving. I check the tires, looks fine. After a few annoying detours I give up to find my way towards the bike path and instead, hit the Bundestrasse.
Not only the fear of darkness, but also my anxiety related to cars and traffic is higher than it used to be. But it's quiet, not many drivers pass me and the smooth tarmac let's me roll quicker than the often brittle bike path surface. One idiot really dares to overtake despite a car coming from the front. I roll my eyes. The other car blinks it's headlights.
Whatever. At some point you gotta give up fear and let things unfold.
On the last kilometers I finally realise: I made it. The old rush is back. Riding through empty villages, the road is all mine. This feeling, how could I have forgotten about it. Is it worth the fear? The gloomy despair of gravity?
In the end I should say, like the trees;
Let the seasons do their work.
And in my case:
Give myself to the hills.
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