Normally while riding my bike I eventually reach some point where I realize “Okay, here’s where I head back.” But on an island, I don’t need to do that.

When I reached Cordova (technically a separate island, but either way it was on the other side of mactan island) and the sun was setting, I knew I had to make good time. Only then, hours after starting and stopping did the riding really click — I went into high gear and suddenly I was keeping pace with the Jeepneys. When I get going like this I’m physically faster and the thoughts in my head silent. Just peddlepeddlepeddlepeddlebreathebreahtepeddle

Only later did I think about what I read about long distance bike riders or randonneur, and how some of the cognitive functions turn off in order to preserve better body functions.  Maybe I should try that some time.  

On this island I wouldn’t be tested too hard, however.  About half an hour later I had come around to a more familiar landscape and was eating dinner in a mall with a friend.  When he saw me walk in he said I looked like a monster — dirt on my shirt, hands, tops of my feet (mostly from a stop along the way to play a game of basketball). 

Another thirty or so minutes with my lights on and I was home.