This morning’s walk to work took place with a cold wind on my face, and morning light noticeably getting brighter on the eastern horizon. At 11 Street and 10th Avenue SW, facing a red light, quietness descended on me and a few other pedestrians standing at the corner. No cars were going by.
Out of the west, however, was the distinct sound of a lone cyclist making his way to work, tires desperately gripping the snow-covered road; the rider bearing down on the pedals so he can make it through the green light before him. In that instant, as he went by, it felt like an Olympic moment. I sensed I was a spectator to a contestant in a race, a leader or a lone athlete at the back of the pack, who required our encouragement to keep struggling for the goal. I thought what I need now is a cowbell to ring, and a cheer out a shout. However, as I looked at those around me on that cold corner, clearly there was no joined thought, no coupled enthusiasm for the moment. So, I kept my hands in my pockets, and tucked my chin a little deeper into my scarf. When the walk light came on across the street, I proceeded. But not without looking at my “Olympic hero” making his way eastward from me down the road into the rising sun.
Have a good day.