The trail follows the power line cut, then curves down the mountain. I stop where the creek pauses in a pool, a green and peaceful place. The day will fill with a thousand busy things soon enough and this trip itself, with my bike loaded for a larger journey, is part of my own practice. Practice isn't always fast or far but the trails only remain trails when we find the time to travel them.
This small loop fits into the tight days, the forty minutes before breakfast or in the evening of a day that almost got away.
The freeway roars a story I ignore: that I must go fast and far and that I have too much to do. The trail remembers and reminds: go when you must, pause when you can. What you do is enough.
I grab my bike, point it down the trail and head for home.