I rode my bike to work again today. Its my new thing. I love it.

I start the day with the wind in my face, sweat on my back, and I am proud and peaceful when my ride ends downtown in front of my looming, 47 story building. I like the feeling of walking in in a wife beater and jeans, helmet in hand, while all the saps in suits rush past me. I sneak into the bathroom and change into my slightly crumpled slacks and blouse and become one of them, but only for 7.5 hours until I am free again. And on Friday, no less!

When the clock turns 5pm, I call a friend, and we meet in a bar that is hidden between buildings. There is a small staircase that leads to the underground secret, and we split a pitcher of Miller Light while eating the free buffet of pizza and bad ribs. We laugh about pop culture and life, and then I am off again, the evening open and free. I ride along side the L train, trying to race it, always losing. I stop at a red light and a man walks up to tell me in his thick accent that I am "a good rider. You ride fast! You are good." I blush, say thank you, and "have a nice weekend!" as I dart back into traffic, the taxis wizzing past me in their big hurries.

I have all the time in the world. The air is fresh and cool and the sun is shining and I am riding my bike past bars full of happy people drinking and eating outside, past Second City and Piper's Alley and Oz Park where the statue of the Tin Man grins and tips his hat to me.

All the way down my tree lined street that sometimes feels like a movie and I am riding the wrong way but no one even cares and everyone is smiling and going to wherever they plan to meet their friends and I park my bike and climb my stairs and sit on my porch while the sun fades behind the other buildings and I drink another beer while reading the paper. How lucky I am to have this quality of life. I am blessed and life is perfect today.

And it all starts when I ride my bike to work. It all starts with a morning of feeling alive and free.