Biking

We had a lovely bike ride on Monday, and my knee held up quite well.  We were on a gravel path that once used to be a train track, but was converted several years ago to a bike trail.  We followed a swollen river for a while through farm country — lots of cows grazing in fields around us, and orioles singing in the trees by the water’s edge.  How far did we go?  Well, we passed a sign that said “twenty miles,” so that works for me.  That’s what it felt like, anyway.  But the little computer thing on my husband’s bike that measures distance and speed and temperature and all that information that means so much to him said, “two miles.”  I put my trust in the sign.