we lived on a busy road and when I was ten, the only paved place to ride bikes was on the narrow driveway. There was a cracked line in the pavement toward the road we were not allowed to cross. So, one day, I rode my bike down the drive almost to the line. I veered right onto the ground under the cedar tree and circled back onto the drive and up the hill to the car port. Getting over the steepest part was work, but after a while, my body figured out how to do this with greater efficiency. This felt good. Soon, as the days went by, there was a hard, bare arc under the tree where we kids made our turnaround for years to come.

We didn't get anywhere, and yet we did. Riding this limited route over and over, after 20 laps or so, a light peacefulness and sense of well-being would descend.