Every time I throw my leg over a bike and twist the key, I think to myself today is going to be fantastic. There’s greatness in the air and it’s easily within reach. Then a second later when I feel the engine turn over for the first time and hear the first burbled exhaust notes exit the pipes, a lightning like sense of life shoots through my body and suddenly the opportunity to go beyond mere optimism seems not only real but also possible. As if something hidden deep within the actual act of riding has the power to instantly take an average day and reshape it into an excellent one. And as I roll off into the unknown the chance for something special seems less of a question and more of a certainty.

But not today.

At least not when you go riding with a cluttered mind and weakened soul. This morning I set out on the open road with the honest intention to leave the workweek demons behind and yet I couldn’t allow myself to escape. To go beyond the confines of the 9 to 5 life. I couldn’t shake the sense that I was neither up for the challenge of the ride nor able to allow myself to simply enjoy the journey. I had so passionately wanted to get lost in the movement and the motion but somehow that just wasn’t in the cards, which is an utterly depressing thing to realize when you’re rolling through scenic canyons on a quiet morning with little to no traffic. Completely open roads don’t come around all that often and when they do it’s a shame to be unable to take advantage of them, even when you’ve got the time.