This is the haunted face of a man who has gone out for a pleasant Saturday morning ride with his wife along the Capital Crescent, as bucolic and meandering a swathe of ex-railway line as you could hope to find in the heart of the Capital of the Free World, and finds himself climbing and twisting and carting and gasping his way through the splintered branches of his tenth upended tree. This would have been last weekend – the morning after the super-derecho which laid waste to the trees along the trail, as well as the grid, and left us all without power for up to seven days in the midst of a heatwave, in that poetically interconnected way in which these events have a habit of occurring. On the right morning, though, it can be a truly lovely ride, a fact the gorgeous cyclist in the image below is celebrating in an oddly martial way.
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