Each moment in life is unique. Some, I want to hold onto and I'll experience them knowing the impact almost as each one happens. Monday's ride brought me one of those moments. Biking home from work that night, we detoured away from the frozen, bumpy streetside path and headed for the Tour of Anchorage route.
Hopped on at the "Ballfield" trailhead. Right away, the conditions were hardpacked and fast as we soared down the hill at around 9:30. The Tour was perfect, with our tires barely leaving a track, just a little kicked-up snow atop the surface. Heading north, just after the Moose Meadow intersection, I started noticing the shadows cast by the moon to the east.
I slowed down. I turned off my headlamp. As my eyes adjusted to riding by moonlight, I began to notice the fine details of the shadows even more. Shadows of branches tricked me into thinking a branch was actually on the trail. The light cast a soft blue on the crust of snow. Jon's light had disappeared ahead of me. I was alone in the moment, slowing my pace so I could just glide through the night and experience the waxing moon.
I had time to relax and just enjoy the simple beauty of winter cycling. I already know I'll miss it.