Time didn’t quite move like I’d thought. I had wanted to slow it down. I wanted to be aware of every moment passing, in reflection and contemplation. I wanted to leave my office life in order to feel time passing in some more holy way, holding it in my fingers and studying each minute like a prayer bead. But that isn’t how we experience life. The first miles in Oregon, I had been self-conscious in the extreme. I had felt my knees and hands and breath. On our bikes, Weston and I rushed through the pungency of sea foam and evergreen, crazy with euphoria, sure the newness of it all would be
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