When I finally rolled back under the Randweg tunnel into Haarlem, the sun had dropped behind the dunes and the city was basking in cool, quiet dusk. I coasted through the northern neighborhoods, only pedaling enough to keep my bike moving slowly toward home. My heart rate was dropping, but the endorphins still coursing through my blood gave the streets a hazy, almost purple glow. Simon & Garfunkel’s ‘America’ started playing on my I-pod. Perfect.
It had been a hard ride. A 35 kilometer, balls-out, leg-burning lung-buster through the dunes. In case you haven’t already guessed, that means hard in a good way.
On a day like today, when the sun is shining and the sea is blue, there is no place that I would rather be than on my bike in North Holland.
1 comment:
Sounds like a great ride! Wish I could have joined you.
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