I look over my shoulder, certain I’ll find someone cycling just behind me.
A fellow traveler.
I look left. No one. Right, nothing.
Yet the sensation of warmth is alive and the hint of a shadow tricks my eyes.
Eyebrows furrowed, nose leading the way, I carry on.
“Just shake it off, Jennifer. Illusions, that’s what Dr. M. said those were. Just illusions. Temporary realities that fade into nothingness.”
I'm Coming up to that slow incline. Time to gear down.
"How long have I been riding now?”
My sitting bones dig into my flesh, I think the muscles might tear away from my kneecaps and my ribcage is heavy.
A sudden wave-like rush of air powers me forward. I recoil when it subsides.
Gush. Another swift, strong push launches my bike forward.
A fellow traveler?
It’s as if two strong hands are landing on my shoulder blades and setting my swing in motion.
And then it stops, and I am back in charge.
My senses are again deceived.
There is no one there.
A final flood of momentum rises and thrusts me forward before easing up.
I decide this is indeed my fellow traveler.
The one that nudges me along when I need Her, and reminds me the potency of my own spirit.