Last light. The time for lights and reflectives signals its beginning and we pause to ready for the night miles. Vests and anklebands on bodies, head- and taillights powered up for the coming hours.
The heat of daytime fades as we ride within the snake of night riders. We’re going faster now, I think. Truth radiates out of my little Garmin. No, it’s just the pleasant deception of night rides. Still, the perception of speed animates my pedal strokes.
Stars join the sky one by one, until I look again and see them everywhere. Like glitter thrown across the sky. Life in the city I call home leaves little room for stars, but these rural roads have saved a space, just for them.
The captain’s body obstructs my view so my vantage points are sideways and up. Everywhere stars! Hi stars, do you see us? How long does it take for our little lights to reach you? Surely they must glimpse this gleaming snake parade slithering through the cloudless night.
I take a big gulp of evening air, and the stars intertwine with my thoughts, as if I swallowed some of them too. My thoughts, the stars, and the moment churn.
Riders drift around us and everyone is quiet. On a normal night we’d all be in bed now, missing this midnight rendezvous with the sky.
My thoughts layer with starlight and they turn over and over, like pedal strokes or wheels on the pavement. I’ve never been so far into the epicenter of my mind.
We are one. The stars, Felkerino, these riders, me. It doesn’t makes sense, yet nighttime has its own subset of rules and I embrace them.
This is the pursuit of the midnight rider. The uncharted, enchanted quest for the moment when urges to sleep dissipate, when physical discomfort makes way for wonder.
Open eyes. Open heart. A body filled up with starlight.
I might burst with appreciation for what we’ve pedaled ourselves into. We are worlds apart. Yet after over 50 hours of exertion, boundaries dissolve and we converge with the celestial.
Tiny pops of silver and red from our collective bikes and cyclists glint into space. You see that, stars? We shine like you. We shine with you.
I came to PBP in hopes of this moment, not knowing what it would be or when it might happen. My quest is complete.
Sated by my meal of stars we pedal on, midnight riders distilled down to our essence on the rural roads of Brittany.
Chasing Mailboxes 