:: Yellow Line ::

:: 8:27 am 38 deg f. the overnight downpour has subsided to a drizzle and a heavy fog has descended on the slumbering valley. astride the fixed gear and heading for the mountains, it's time to punish my body and refresh my soul after the lackluster performances of late; heading out of town hoping to escape both the fog and the feeling of disappointment. instead it seems to close in with each mile. the vibrant colors a few weeks ago are all gone save one: the vibrant yellow line i am chasing into the mist. unzipping my jacket, i pause for a moment and steam pours off my chest instantly merging with the other surrounding vapors. the yellow line hangs before me like a cord dangling from the heavens begging to be ascended. the fog continues to thicken with each revolution and quite soon the only definite shapes are the jagged line of dead leaves to the right and the yellow line to the left; and both disappear just paces ahead. for a few moments it feels that this is my yellow line: i don't have to share it with anyone. it's only expectation of me is to continue my quest upwards. following this line with lead me home safely i'm sure, but not before first forcing me to confront apprehensions hiding in the corners of my mind. my yellow line leads me to freedom, but only a few feet at a time. my legs struggle with the resistance of the grade. my mind struggles with the idea of turning back. my eyes struggle with vision of the road ahead, and i must trust that each forward movement will reveal a bit more. my yellow line rounds a corner and disappears into the fog... ... and so do i... ::