....what a shame we all became so fragile broken things......

One of those rides, the wind seems to be in your face all the time, every gradient makes your legs burn and every old ache and pain makes an appearance throughout the ride. Your head is full of thoughts of others and you start that old habit of looking at your speed, slow, why am I so slow? Then there's another riding towards you, alone, a hand is raised and likewise returned, nothing said, we ride on.