I rode my bicycle through Prospect park on Saturday, thinking about my writing, about this blog. I can not tell you how many blog posts I have ‘written’ while I’ve pedalled, how many plot holes I have worked out while gripping my pink handlebars (It’s almost time for new tape, what color do you suggest?)
My ride through Prospect Park did not provide any breakthroughs but I am very, very close to figuring things out.
What I did realize is how cathartic it is to ride this particular loop. I begin on a flat road, then I dip down a long hill where I fly and feel free. At the end, there is a steep slope upwards and I sweat and curse to myself the entire time. While I’m climbing, I think, I’m going home. There is no way I can do this again. But then I come to that flat and I take off for another round.
As I tried to sort through this mess of a character, I thought about what I was doing. I thought about the loop. And it made me feel better. Not just about my book but about life in general. Flat. Down. Up. And how natural it is to start again. I realize it’s cliche, these hills and valleys. But to feel it, really feel it, makes me know it’s true. Because that’s what it’s really like…to move across the earth this way.