Yesterday I rode my bike for many miles in a chilly and gusty wind. It seemed more like October than June. I was bundled up against the blustery weather, but I still felt chilled as I rode along. The wind was a challenging antagonist all the way, whipping down the roads against me, pushing me back, making bike-riding seem like a fairly unintelligent idea. I especially remember noticing the noise of the wind. The sounds would be relatively serene for a few moments, and then a sound like a storm would swirl around me as a squall of wind whipped up. It was a thoroughly raucous ride, as if a constant battle was being fought. It was nice, though, to feel the utter peacefulness that always comes after a long ride, especially after such an arduous one. When I arrived home, I set my bike in its place in the kitchen, took off my cold-weather gear, stretched my tired muscles, and reveled in a feeling of accomplishment. The ride had been a hard one, but now life was utterly easy as I padded through the apartment in my shorts and socks.