A Ride Through the Storm

The tires of my Toyota droned against the frozen pavement, a steady hum beneath the weight of a questionable decision. My bike swayed in the back, lashed down but not exactly secure… much like my reasoning for heading toward Blue Mountain in the dead of winter. Mountain biking in February wasn’t smart. The trails were either buried under a foot of snow or slicked over with ice, the kind that turns every ride into an unsolicited lesson in humility. And yet, there I was, chasing something I couldn’t quite name. Maybe it was defiance. Maybe it was desperation. Maybe I just needed to remind myself that winter hadn’t stolen everything.

The drive stretched long and gray, the world outside my windshield muted and brittle. It wasn’t just the weather. Lately, everything felt like it was breaking apart… jobs disappearing… friends’ lives in turmoil… people convincing themselves that all this unraveling was some kind of necessary sacrifice. It weighed on me, an unshakable heaviness, like stepping onto a frozen lake with no clue where the weak spots were. One wrong step, and everything might give way.

And then, the ride…

Somehow, against all odds, the trail was perfect. The snow had settled in just the right way… packed firm enough for traction, soft enough to carve. Every turn felt effortless, every descent a quiet rebellion against the doubt that had followed me there. The cold bit at my skin, but I wasn’t freezing. I was moving. I was breathing. I was here.

By the time I hoisted my bike back into the truck, something had shifted. The world hadn’t magically fixed itself. The problems were still there… looming and unresolved. But for a little while, I had stepped outside of all that. I had stolen a moment back from the chaos. And in that moment, I realized… no matter how dark the season, no matter how uncertain the road ahead, there will always be trails worth chasing.

Even in winter, joy is out there… You just have to be stubborn enough to find it.