We rode our bikes through the trails in the spring forest. The sun was peeking through gaps in the canopy above us, and we were surrounded by the green with often and sudden bursts of brilliant color. For this time, we no longer played the part of wives and mothers. Laughter radiated from the imperfect line of six, and it could be heard all over the mountain. Every face smiled as the downhill slide of the wheels created a fierce wind that could be heard in the tick, tick, ticking of the chains in need of shifting. One in the middle of the line took her hands off the handle bars and swung them out beside her…she was flying. On the uphill leg of the trail, the laughter got louder. Each body hoisted up and down to make it over the hill. Each smile broadened as the wheels became more and more unbalanced and the frame of the bike waved side to side. We had absolutely no idea where we were going, we were just on our way. I watched our line with joy. We were all little girls constrained by a cocoon of womanhood. I watched each of us breaking free as each leg, and each wing, and finally our heads emerged to take in that first gulp of air. We were on a retreat, but we were actually recapturing.
Each section this week will be dedicated to some portion of my women’s retreat this weekend. If you have never been on one, I highly recommend it. I have found that, when it comes right down to it, nothing will refresh your soul like someone who has been in your shoes and has the stories to laugh you through the miles you have yet to cover.