Some mornings begin with an alarm clock.
The best mornings begin with the first hint of daylight.
There is something profoundly hopeful about riding a bicycle before much of the world has awakened. The roads are quieter. The air is cooler. Even familiar neighborhoods feel different beneath the soft light of dawn.
Over the past year those rides have become more than exercise.
They have become conversations.
Sometimes with nature.
Sometimes with myself.
Sometimes with no one at all.
Each mile reminds me that meaningful change rarely arrives all at once. It appears one decision at a time. One healthier meal. One earlier bedtime. One more ride than yesterday.
Progress is wonderfully ordinary.
You do not notice it every day.
Then one morning you realize the hills feel easier. Your breathing is steadier. Your thoughts are calmer. The person pedaling today is not quite the same person who started months ago.
Florida has given me many gifts.
Its beaches are beautiful.
Its springs are unforgettable.
But perhaps its greatest gift has been providing countless quiet mornings where I could simply ride, think, and remember how fortunate I am to call this remarkable state home.
Sometimes happiness is nothing more complicated than watching the sun rise while your bicycle rolls toward whatever comes next.
