|Ross equipped for new five mile commute.|
2015 proved to be a year of challenges and changes, starting with a milestone job shift in January to full-time employment after 15 glorious years of freedom as a part-time worker, part time woman with wanderlust.
February's brutal cold kept me off my bike, but not our 13 year old hearty son, who rode to school all winter, amazing his parents. It took all my willpower to let him out the door when it was -15F and he chose sneakers for footwear.
By March, I was back riding in sunshine, learning a new commute, had fun with MG's Errandonnee, made plans to pedal all of my city's 95 miles of public streets, and had an epiphany with Rivendell's Clementine, steering my touring thoughts down the step-through bike line (hey Surly - hop on the bandwagon!).
|Family rides on Acadia National Park's carriage roads.|
My father died in April, knocking the wind from my sails. Over the next few months I relied on what normally heals me: heading outdoors, riding beside Lake Champlain, exploring new places: riding Acadia National Park's carriage trails and the Charles River Trail, and keeping busy, in this instance, sticking with my Burlington Streets Challenge. I've also learned to be kind to myself, allowing the blog writing to ebb and flow.
|My son rides a narrow ramp at Sunny Hollow.|
|Stopping for a break at a Quebec cemetery.|
In September I went on a much needed bike overnight, touring Quebec's vineyards and apple orchards and felt rejuvenated, just in time for fall foliage rides and Coffeeneuring exploits. By November, I'd completed both challenges and celebrated five years of blogging. Then I was ready for a dip into night riding, purchased a powerful headlight and surprised myself by immensely enjoying weeks of commuting in darkness, becoming a full fledged night rider.
|Coffeeneuring #7 on a beach.|
It's the end of December and we have several inches of snow on the ground. Today, I rode the bus to work. The sting of losing someone who's been very inspirational to me is beginning to fade, as happy memories slowly replace sad ones, like a time years ago, when my husband (then boyfriend) and I had left Vermont on our bicycles, touring southward along the East Coast before heading west across the country. My father had promised to "come pick us up if we ever got tired". I know he truly meant it, but those very words assured I would never give Dad the satisfaction of rescuing his daughter. Of course I'll always miss my father, however he lives on inside me. It was, and still is, a good ride.