Thoughts on a solo bike-a-thon.

Asking a volunteer to pin my number on to the back of my dress.

Balancing my bike against one leg, using an arm to steady it. The other foot holds down the air pump, which I work one handed.

Leaving my bike on the grass, thinking no one will steal a bike with a number.

Hearing the pollen fall.

The rolling cycle of intense emotions and understandings that come with being alone, alone with nowhere to be except your physical space and inside your head, for hours.

Going home without a photo at the end of ride.

Leaving when I am done.

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