The dark of winter
I looked out the window at the certainty of the rain. It sent anxiety through my body; my senses were asking why I considered biking in such a torrent. There wasn't any choice, so I strapped on my helmet and let the natural shower come down on me. As I sped down 1st St, drops pelted my face and body like delicate shards of ice. My shoes, my shirt, my pants were immersed in water, as the kind of darkness just beyond the glow of a campfire. I stoked my inner flame with every sense of motion: the sounds of the wind, the spin of my wheels, the splash of fresh puddles. Carrying the theme of the day, I was afraid of nothing.