Slogging through Jell-o. That’s what riding my bike felt like earlier this week. I noticed my speed was reduced. I had to use a lower gear. I couldn’t ride as far. It was hard work.
I had missed a few days of riding. Did it really make that much difference?
It was breezy out. Was I having that much trouble riding into the wind?
I didn’t want to bike if this is going to be my new normal.
Today before riding again I thought, let me check my tires pressure. You guessed it; they were very low. I inflated both tires. Mounting my bike, I turned out of the driveway. I felt like I was flying. The gentle breeze brushing my face was a delight.
Nearing the end of our street, I had to change gears because pedaling was too easy. I rode farther than I have in weeks, and my speed was faster.
Riding, I reflected on this day—the Saturday between Good Friday and Easter. It is a sobering day for me as a Christian, and I know what happens tomorrow! I wonder if the disciples felt a little like I did earlier in the week. The air had gone out of their life.
Their joy was gone. Jesus was gone. Everything was different, harder, and more troubling. Was it really worth going on if the Jesus we followed was dead?
In the first century, this was a dark and hopeless day.
But hold on . . . don’t give up now.
Joy, Hope and Grace await.