Sometimes i journey on my bike. i journey to far lands. i journey from my home to the end of Lakeshore road. i stroll down Henry Clay over the bridge past the many rifle ranges and down Verplank past power lines and open land. i turn onto Caughdenoy Rd. Then i turn onto Mudmill and go over some railroad tracks. i get to Plank Road Park. i reminisce the time that i broke my wrist playing soccer there. i keep biking past the light and up the hill. i keep going. i looker for Sneller. it's a funny street name. but it means i'm pretty far into my journey. i get to Finish Line Trail. i don't understand why it isn't called Finish Line Drive, but I keep going.
I bike onto Lakeshore to Williams Beach, and I keep going. I keep biking by the water. It's so much calmer compared to the last time I went on this journey. I keep biking until i get to the end of Lakeshore road. By this time, I realize that I have been biking an hour and 6 minutes. I now have to bike an hour and 6 minutes home. On my trek back I stop at Williams Beach. I gaze at the geese pooping on the beach. i eat an apple. I watch in the gazebo. I get back on my bike. An old man smiles at me. I have intense sunglasses on, but i think he sees my friendly eyes underneath. I am still holding my apple core. I hop back on my bike, and I start riding. I throw that apple in a ditch. i didn't want to throw the apple at the geese. They don't deserve an apple core.
I journey back the way I came. i gaze at the house in the Bay Colony neighborhood with the giant playhouse in the backyard. Lucky children. They must play in that house all day. I bike past the Lakeshore Country Club. I recall the days when I would bring children to that country club, and I would swim with them in the pool. I always felt bad for the lifeguards because there was always chaos in that pool. Too many ten year olds getting intense over pool basketball. Anyways, I am biking, and I look out for golf carts, but I see none. But on my journey, I did see many men mowing their lawns. Men just like to mow their lawns on Sundays. I even saw a little boy mowing the lawn. Maybe his father was teaching him to build character. At least he didn't have to dig holes.
I bike past the Lakeshore Marine and back down Mudmill Road. At this point, I only have several stages left in my journey. I look for Sneller. I bike up a hill toward a light that will get me back to Plank road Park. I hate this hill. i adjust my gears so I can handle it. The fatigue is setting in. I keep estimating home many miles I have left to go. I guess about ten. I keep going. I have to keep going. I set out on this Sunday journey. And I plan on completing it. If Magellan can circumnavigate the world, I can certainly circumnavigate through Cicero, Clay, and back to Liverpool,NY.
I get back to Caughdenoy. I could turn right and bike to Central Square. I could bike past rivers and damns and farm animals and hicks. At the end of Caughdenoy Road is an ice cream stand. The ice cream is not worth the extra 10 miles it would add to my journey. Besides. It's October, and I don't think it's open.
I turn left onto Caughdenoy and turn right onto Verplank. I have one ear phone in my ear as allowed by New York State biking laws. Without the music, on this road, all that can be heard is the strange buzzing sound of the powerlines. I keep biking, and towards the end of Verplank, I hear this woman scream SHILOH! I thought this giant dog was going to come after me, but it ran into a different direction. The woman seemed pretty frantic, and I could have stopped to help, but that would require me to dismount from my bicycle and start sprinting after Shiloh. I decided not to be a good samaritan. When you are on a bike journey, you just have to keep trekking. Unless i find a box of kittens on the side of the road, my bike is not stopping for anything at this point in the journey.
I turn back onto Henry Clay, past the cemetery, and to the traffic light. I wait patiently for the light to turn green. At this point, I only have about four miles to go. I bike eagerly down the road, and I gaze at the sign that says Private, no entry. Someone has graffitied over it, but I'm always curious as to what is down that side road. I stay on Henry Clay, and I bike up another Hill. As I descend, I see the Marshland Preserve area. I recall in the summertime when Alyssa and I explored the preserve. It looks much wetter compared to the last time we biked there.
I bike past people purchasing pumpkins at a pumpkin stand. They stare at me as I casually breeze on by. I keep biking, and I turn onto Wetzel road. I bike past the YMCA, the Clay park where I used to play rec soccer, and eventually i get back to my neighborhood. I journeyed around 33ish miles.
I turn onto my driveway, and my dad asks me when the ceremony is. He pretends that I am going to get an award for my accomplishment. In a journey with one competitor, that competitor always gets first place.
On a Fall Day in October, I completed a bike journey. I took in the sights and the scenery. I pedaled to success. I didn't receive a trophy, a plaque, or even a ribbon. I was sore and tired at the end, but I was happy to have completed my journey. Best of all, I got first place.
On my next bike journey, I think maybe I'll bike with an Olympic torch. I'm not sure where I'll purchase one, but craigslist usually has all of the answers. I think there are always morals to stories. Actually, that's not really true. But there is a moral to this story. If you accomplish a journey of any sort, you are always a winner. Anybody can be a winner. You just have to keep pedaling.
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