At first my limbs protest and muscles crack
as they awake, and I must push my feet
to drive the pedals down and then pull back.
But soon my legs are pumping like the sweet
repeating action of my heart, and eight
quick minutes later I am in a groove
of motion, music, language from a great
edition I can read in as I move.

At twenty minutes sweat can’t be ignored;
it threatens to intrude and sting my eyes.
It soaks my shirt uncomfortable and toward
my seat it makes a path, but wet and wise
I pedal ten more minutes past those points.
I earn momentum and deserve my joints.