Wind, My Great Nemesis, Returns

Back in the day--and it was way back in the day--I used to seriously curse the wind when I was riding my bike. On bad days, I'd wave my fist up in the air and yell "Goddamnit" as loud as I could, in pure rage. As in 'how dare you stop me cold in my tracks while my legs ache and I try to pedal through your power.' As in, how could you do this to me, the injustice of it all?

The rage has subsided, but not the wind. Yesterday, I left court late to get to a meeting with the minister at my church. No, I'm not getting married, divorced, christened, chastised, or baptised. I just have a pretty cool minister at a very liberal church, one that I started attending about two years ago. Anyway, I left court and was already late, hopping on my bike and hoping for prevailing west to east winds. I was out of luck and had to struggle hard against the wind the whole way. And, yes, I cursed that wind, cursed it hard. Which was fitting in the whole scheme of things, me on my bike, pouring sweat and cursing a power that I could not control, on my way to talk with the minister at my church about things that are peaceful and spiritual and beyond my control. I arrived a mess, with sweat soaking my back and up and over my shoulders where the backpack straps were. Wind, my great nemesis, had returned.