Cycling to the Castle in the Clouds

Joy here...Back in the 1980s Victor Hugo's classic 19th Century novel, Les Misérables, was adapted into a stage musical, complete with rousing songs, pathos, melodrama, and romance, all the things that my 13-year old self couldn't get enough of.  I bought the tape of the whole musical--back when there were things called cassette tapes--and when it was time for our annual school musical auditions, I signed up with a friend of mine and was all set with my audition piece, Cosette's song, "Castle on a Cloud."

So into an empty auditorium where the drama teacher sat alone in one of the front rows walked my friend and I for our audition.  My friend has a beautiful voice.  She sang in the school choir, and sings like an angel.  I, on the other hand, opened up my mouth to sing and cringed with what came out.

In the end, my friend was cast as the youngest daughter, Gretl, in the school's musical, The Sound of Music.  To the silence that greeted the end of my tone deaf singing (if it can be called "singing"), all the poor drama teacher could say was:  "well, that sure is a lovely song."

I didn't get a part in the school musical.

The castle on a cloud.

A city on a cloud.

But today as I rode out into the early morning fog, that song came back to me.  I could see the Canadian parliament buildings rising out of the early dawn spring mist resulting from the crashing up of cold air against warm air that often happens at this time of the year.  And as I rode, I thought of little Cosette, an exploited and unloved child forced to work as a ward of greedy innkeepers.  I thought of her song about a place in her mind where she can go to escape, to be happy...her Castle on a Cloud.  In my own way, I was cycling to my own castle on a cloud...my own place where I can escape and be happy, for that's what a good morning bike ride is all about.  It's about not just dreaming about being something, but about doing something about those dreams.  It's about not just being mired in the present moment, but about transcending that present.  And most importantly, it's about having your own personal soundtrack running through your brain the whole time!  (Ideally, not singing songs with my tone deaf voice...heck, the songs in my head sure aren't sung in my voice, so the songs in your head sure as heck shouldn't be in my voice!)

I had a work meeting in the late morning, so I had to head out a little earlier than normal for our ride this morning, and luckily for me The Professor was willing to head out into the wet and foggy streets to join me for a ride.

The Professor appearing out of the mist.

As I rode to meet her, other cyclists and runners would appear momentarily out of the mists to pass me in the opposite direction, only to disappear back into the whiteness moments later.  Through it all, I could barely see The Professor, despite her bright, yellow jacket that should have shone like a beacon, but once we found each other through the mists The Professor and the ex-professor (me) headed to the park to do a couple of hill repeats up Pink Lake, just like we did on Wednesday.

We approached the start of the hill together, talking and joking, and then as the hill started to climb upwards--5% incline, 7% incline, 8% incline--and I started my first session of seriously hard pedalling.  My watts went up to 240 and I tried to keep it there, even as the climb kicked up for one, last steep section before the Pink Lake lookout itself.

Pink Lake through the clouds.

And then I turned around and did it all over again.

On the second repeat, we stopped at the top to look at the lake.  But we couldn't see it.  You know how sometimes you can look out the window of an airplane and see an entire landscape of clouds that look so solid that you think you could just step out the window and frolic in an entire white lands of soft cotton?  Well, we had stepped right into it; we were in that world of cotton...and it was moist and wet and white and it hid the world around us.  And as I stood there staring into the whiteness where I knew the lake should be, The Professor and I both heard music playing in the distance.  Making its way through the clouds and mists, we heard music...no lyrics, no strong beat, but just the faintest whisper of music.

So my ride began with a song in my head and ended with one in my ears, and I rode home (50kms in total) with plenty of time to get back down off my cloud to be present and accounted for for my work phone call.

Don't worry...I didn't sing to them.

Over and out,
Joy