I’ve said that for quite some time that riding my Trek 820 has been my muse.
It has served as a escape of sorts, often I lose track of time and find myself at a loss on how I’ve gotten from point A to point B.
These pictures serve as template of one of these days.
Making my way through the congestion of Baltimore City is an adventure of sorts.
As I wind my way from the Art Museum campus…
Seeing the contradictions of the Lee and Jackson Monument always gives me pause, but that is a story for another time.
I snake my way around the monument and cruise along the Wyman Park Drive.
As I look over the a bridge at the Jones Falls, I feel the tentacles of the city losing their grasp.
I ride on… My lungs filling with the air that is rushing by.
The burdens that I carried are now a afterthought… I believe I lost them at mile 7.
I pause at the Jones Falls at the behest of my hamstrings screaming out “No Mas”… I stretch gingerly, squat, scarf down torrential amounts of water and continue on.
I’m riding so fast that I can’t see the litter that has intertwined itself into what should be the solace of nature.
I’m compelled to stop as I realize that what I see is a metaphor for the human condition.
In that humanity has at its core an element of beauty, but it is the contrast of ugly that enables us to appreciate the beauty more than if it we saw it untarnished.
The industrial element has faded but it lives on…
I pedal gingerly watching for potholes.
The water continues on unimpeded…
Before I know it I find myself back in the confines of the city… Passing Union station and dodging cars that drive as if they would like me to adorn the hood of their car.
Passing Baltimore’s Shot Tower and I shake my head at the thought of those who would snarl their lips at the tide of history.
The Inner Harbor is one of those areas that scratch at the potential of what Baltimore could be.
A potential that I’m confident that will be reached, but Rome wasn’t built in a day.
I’m still feeling antsy and I continue to ride on… I was expecting to be winded, but I’m not.
I start making my way through the City, riding into the arms of Baltimore’s historic Locust Point.
I’m pedaling like the bike and I are one…
I glance down and I am at mile 23… Still I am not winded, so I dig deeper still.
I find myself at Baltimore’s Fort McHenry, the National Anthem was crafted here by Francis Scott Key during the bombardment of Baltimore Harbor, complements of duress and a little creativity.
I’m down to one bottle of water, so I start heading back…
I make one last circuit around Lake Montebello and I call it this ride a wrap at… Mile 30.24.
I’m hopeful that people will keep their distance once I enter the house, because I’m smelling especially ravishing.