Short Stop: Never Any Such Thing

L.C. Hill

Pedal. Pedal. Pedal. Pedal. Pedal.

My head hangs and I focus on the road no more than three feet in front of me. If I just make it three feet at a time, I’ll make it over and over again. I mistakenly look up at the half a mile ahead and discover it’s all uphill. It crosses my mind that I haven’t gone that far. I can turn around.

But there is no such thing as going back.

A few regrets pass through my mind. Why have I put this off for so long? What if I can’t make it? I’m alone, and I don’t know what I’ll do if anything goes wrong.

I’m doing it now, and that’s all that matters, I tell myself. I drop my head again to watch for hazards. At least I can avoid the ones right in front of me.

Pedal, pedal, pedal, pedal, pedal. I hit a few bumps and I really feel them. I’m too far now from where I started and too far from where I’m going—halfway in-between anywhere. There’s no going back.

But there’s never been such a thing as going back, I remind myself.

I take a look around—not too far ahead—just at what’s near me. There are people watering their grass before it gets too hot. Others sit on their front porch with family. Someone walking in the opposite direction passes me, and then they’re gone. I should have said hello. I’ve become so focused on making it, I’ve forgotten to connect.

Pedalpedalpedalpedalpedal. The burn alleviates and my shoulders relax. I’ve finally made it to where I was headed. I feel accomplished, and a welling gratefulness rises that there was never any such thing as going back.