Sunday Prayers

It was not the everyday Sunday. Not at all. The roads were full of the true believers. Bright, not quiet Winter blue sky. Chill to the bone, dry and cold. Just a slight wind out of the North. As if to blow us all along our training path. Hard work and smart work. The training never ends. We move along the roads to the next hill to climb. The next freezing down hill after the heater going up the hill. Hours on hour. We are all doing the hours. It is joy to breathe the air and have the air to breathe. Our luck, last another ride. Another prayer along the road. Pure passion is the time over the bike. Luck that we can do our dreams. Live these dreams while we can. Time has a start, and a finish for the body. Never put off what makes you live. The clock is ticking. We ride and live with the Reaper. Our time is a gift. Use it well. We ride with the Reaper.